Fidessa: Sonnet 45

Mine eye bewrays the secrets of my heart,
My heart unfolds his grief before her face;
Her face--bewitching pleasure of my smart!--
Deigns not one look of mercy and of grace.
My guilty eye of murder and of treason,--
Friendly conspirator of my decay,
Dumb eloquence, the lover's strongest reason!--
Doth weep itself for anger quite away,
And chooseth rather not to be, than be
Disloyal, by too well discharging duty;
And being out, joys it no more can see
The sugared charms of all deceiving beauty.
But, for the other greedily doth eye it,
I pray you tell me, what do I get by it?