Sonnet 104

VNhappie sight and hath shee vanisht by,
So neere, in so good time so free a place,
Dead glasse dost thou thine obiect so imbrace,
As what my heart still sees thou canst not spie,
I sweare by hir Loue and my lacke, that I
Was not in fault that bent my dazling race
Onely vnto the heauen of Stellaes face,
Counting but dust that in hir way did lie:
But cease mine eies, your teares doe witnes well,
That you guiltles therefore your necklace mist,
Curst be the Page from whom the bad torch fell,
Curst be the night which did your will resist,
Curst be the Cochman that did driue so fast,
With no lesse curse then absence makes me tast.