Sonnet 85

ALas whence comes this change of lookes? If I
haue chang'd deserts, let mine owne conscience be
a still felt plague to selfe condemning mee.
Let woe grype on my heart, shame load mine eyes:
But if all faith like spotles Ermine lye
Safe in my soule (which onely doth to thee
As his sole obiect to felicitie
VVith wings of Loue in aire of wonder flie.)
Cease your hard hand, threat not so hard your slaue,
In Iustice, paines come not till faults do call:
Or if I needes (sweet Iudge) must torments haue,
Seeke some thing else to chasten mee withall,
Than those blest eyes where all my hopes do dwell,
No doome shall make ones Heauen become his Hell.