Sonnet 97

AH bed the feeld where ioyes peace some do see:
The feeld where al my thoughts to war be traind,
How is thy grace by my strange fortune staind?
How thy low shrowdes by my sighs stormed be?
With sweet soft shades thou oft inuitest mee
To steale some rest, but wretch I am constrained,
Spurd with Loues spurr, this held & shortly rained
With Cares hard hand, to turne and tosse in thee,
VVhile the black horrors of the silent night,
Paint VVoes black face so liuely in my sight,
That tedious leasure markes eche wrinckled line:
But when Aurora leades out Phoebus daunce,
Mine eyes then onely winke for spite perchaunce,
That wormes should haue their Sunne & I want mine.