Sonnet. III.

YEE dainty Damsels of Dianes Traine,
That long to dally, with your loued Lords:
And you braue Gallant, high resolued Lords.
That loue to gaze, vpon your stately Starrs.
He he is dead, that kild you with disdaine:
And often fedde your friendy hopes againe.


He he is dead, that wrote of your delights:
That wrote of Ladies, and of Parramours:
Of budding beautie, and hir branched leaues,
Of sweet content in royall Nuptialls.
He he is dead, that kild you with disdaine:
And often fed your friendly hopes againe.


His gadding Muse, although it ran of loue,
Yet did hee sweetly morralize, his songs:
Ne euer gaue the looser cause to laugh,
Ne men of Iudgment, for to be offended.
But as he often kild them with disdaine:
So did he often feede their hopes againe.


And though he often told of things to come,
In loue more like a Prophet than a Poet:
Yet did he wisely interlace the one,
With Sages sayings, euer mixt among.
And though he often fedde their pleasing paine:
Yet did he often kill them with disdaine.


Wherefore yee dainty Damsels of renowne,
That long to dallie, with your loued Lords.
And you braue Gallant, worthy noble Lords,
That loue to dandle in your Ladies lapps.
Come hither come, and lend your mouths to Fame:
That meanes to sound, his neuer dying name.
  to the Trinitie by R.S