Sonnet 1

LOuing in trueth, and fayne my loue in verse to show,
That the deere Shee, might take some pleasure of my paine:
Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pittie winne, and pittie grace obtaine.
I sought fit wordes, to paint the blackest face of woe,
Studying inuentions fine, her wittes to entertaine,
Oft turning others leaues, to see if thence would flowe,
Some fresh and fruitfull showre, vpon my Sunne-burnt braine.
But wordes came halting out, wanting inuentions stay,
Inuention Natures childe, fledde Stepdames studies blowes:
And others feete, still seem'de but straungers in my way,
Thus great with Childe to speake, and helplesse in my throwes,
Byting my tongue and penne, beating my selfe for spite:
Foole saide My muse to mee, looke in thy heart and write.