Sonnet 45

I Curst thee oft, I pittie now thy case,
Blinde hitting Boy, since shee that thee and me
Rules with a becke, so tyranniseth thee,
That thou must want or foode or dwelling place;
For she protests to bannish thee her face.
Her face (ô Loue) a roge then should'st thou bee,
If Loue learne not alone to loue and see,
Without desire to feede of further grace.
Alas poore wagge, that now a Scholler art
To such a Schoole-mistris, whose lessons new
Thou needes must misse, and so thou needes must smart;
Yet deere, let me this pardon get of you,
That he so long may sport him with desire,
Till without Fuell, thou can make hote fire.