Sonnet 2. [Love like a Jugler comes to play his prize]
Love like a Jugler comes to play his prize,
And all mindes draw his wonders to admire,
To see how cunningly he (wanting eyes)
Can yet deceive the best sight of desire.
The wanton Childe, how he can faine his fire
So prettily, as none sees his disguise,
How finely doe his trickes; while we fooles hire
The badge, and office of his tyrannies.
For in the ende such Jugling he doth make,
As he our hearts instead of eyes doth take;
For men can onely by their slights abuse.
The sight with nimble, and delightful skill,
But if he play, his gaine is our lost will.
Yet Childe-like we cannot his sports refuse.
