Sonnet 54

FIE schoole of Patience, fie, your Lesson is
Far far too long, to learne it without booke:
What, a whole weeke, and get not halfe a looke?
And thinke I should not your large precepts misse,
VVhen I might reade these Letters fayre of blisse,
VVithin her face each vertue I could brooke,
From what the leaden counsels that I tooke:
As of a freende which meant not much amisse.
But now alas, that I doe want her sight,
What doost thou thinke that I can euertake,
In thy colde strife, a phlegmatick delight?
No Patience, if thou wilt my good, then make
Her come, and heere with patience my desire:
And then with patience bid me beare my fire.