From a Crowne of Sonnets dedicated to LOVE
He that shuns Love, doth love himselfe the lesse,
And cursed he whose spirit, not admires
The worth of Love, where endlesse blessednes
Raignes, & commands, maintain’d by heav’nly fires.
Made of Vertue, joyn’d by Truth, blown by Desires,
Strengthened by Worth, renew’d by carefulnesse,
Flaming in never-changing thoughts: bryers
Of Jealousie shall here miss welcomnesse.
Nor coldly passe in the pursutes of Love
Like one long frozen in a Sea of yce:
And yet but chastely let your passions moone,
No thought from vertuous Love your minds intice.
Never to other ends you Phant’sies place,
But where they may returne with honor’s grace.
Line 3. belssedness: blessedness.
