Song - Dearest if I by my deserving

Dearest if I by my deserving

May maintain in your thoughts my love,

Let me it still enjoy

Nor faith destroy,

But pity love where it doth move.

Let no other new love invite you

To leave me who so long have served,

Nor let your power decline

But purely shine

On, me, who have all truth preserved;

Or had you once found my heart straying

Then would not I accuse your change,

But being constant still

It needs must kill

One, whose soul knows not how to range;

Yet may you love's sweet smiles recover

Since all love is not yet quite lost

But tempt not love too long

Lest so great wrong

Make him think he is too much crossed.

Sonnet 1 - In night yet may we see some kind of light

In night yet may we see some kind of light

When as the moon doth please to show her face,

And in the sun's room yields her sight, and grace

Which otherwise must suffer dullest night;

So are my fortunes, barred from true delight

Cold, and uncertain, like to this strange place,

Decreasing, changing in an instant space,

And even at full of joy turned to despite;

Justly on Fortune was bestowed the wheel

Whose favours, fickle, and unconstant, reel,

Drunk with delight of change, and sudden pain;

Where pleasure hath no settled place of stay

But turning still, for our best hopes decay,

And this (alas) we lovers often gain.

Sonnet 2 - Truly poor Night

Truly poor Night thou welcome art to me:

I love thee better in this sad attire

Than that which raiseth some men's fancies higher

Like painted outsides which foul inward be;

I love thy grave and saddest looks to see,

Which seems my soul, and dying heart entire,

Like to the ashes of some happy fire

That flamed in joy, but quenched in misery;

I love thy countenance, and thy sober pace

Which evenly goes, and as of loving grace

To us, and me among the rest oppressed

Gives quiet, peace to my poor self alone,

And freely grants day leave when thou art gone

To give clear light to see all ill redressed.

Sonnet 3 - Dear, cherish this

Dear, cherish this, and with it my soul's will,

Nor for it ran away do it abuse,

Alas, it left poor me your breast to choose

As the blest shrine where it would harbour still;

Then favour show, and not unkindly kill

The heart which fled to you, but do excuse

That which for better, did the worse refuse,

And pleased I'll be, though heartless my life spill,

But if you will be kind, and just indeed,

Send me your heart which in mine's place shall feed

On faithful love to your devotion bound;

There shall it see the sacrifices made

Of pure, and spotless love which shall not fade

While soul, and body are together found.