Sonnet. I.

DO'st see how unregarded now
that piece of beauty passes?
There was a time when I did vow
to that alone;
but mark the fate of faces;
That red and white works now no more on me
Then if it could not charm or I not see.

And yet the face continues good,
and I have still desires,
Am still the self same flesh and blood,
as apt to melt
and suffer from those fires;
Oh! some kind power unriddle where it lies,
Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes?

She every day her Man does kill,
and I as often die;
Neither her power then, nor my will
can question'd be,
what is the mystery?
Sure Beauties Empires, like to greater States
Have certain periods set, and hidden fates.