Sonnet 11

IN truth oh Loue: with what a boyish kinde
Thou doost proceede, in thy most serious waies;
That when thy heauen to thee his best displaies,
Yet of that best thou leau'st the best behinde.
That like a Childe that some faire booke doth finde
With gilden leaues of colloured Velom, playes
Or at the most on some faire picture staies,
But neuer heedes the fruite of Writers minde.
So when thou sawest in Natures cabinet,
Stella, thou straight lokest babies in her eyes:
In her chekes pit, thou didst thy pitfall set,
And in her brest to peepe, a lowting lyes.
Playing and shining in each outward part:
But foole seekst not to get into her hart.