Sonnet 8.

OFt and in vaine my rebels thoughts haue ventred,
to stop the passage of my vanquisht hart,
And close the way, my friendly foe first entred,
Striuing thereby to free my better part.

VVhilest garding thus the windowes of my thought,
Where my harts-thiefe to vex me made her choice,
And thether all my forces to transport,
Another passage opens at hir voice.

Her voice betraies me to hir hand and eie,
My freedomes-tyrant glorying in hir art:
But (ah) sweete foe, small is the victorie
With three such powers to plague one silly hart.
Yet my soules souereigne, since I must resigne,
Raigne in my thoughts, my loue and life are thine.