Sonnet 7 - Love leave to urge

Love leave to urge, thou know'st thou hast the hand;

'T'is cowardice to strive where none resist:

Pray thee leave of, I yield unto thy band;

Do not thus, still, in thine own power persist,

Behold I yield: let forces be dismissed;

I am your subject conquered, bound do stand,

Never your foe, but did your claim assist

Seeking your due of those who did withstand;

But now, it seems, you would I should you love;

I do confess, 'twas you, made me first choose;

And your faire shows made me a lover prove

when I my freedom did, for pain refuse

Yet this Sir God, your boyship I despise;

Your charms I obey, but love not want of eyes.