Astrophil and Stella
What, have I thus betrayed my liberty?
Can those black beams such burning marks engrave
In my free side, or am I born a slave,
Whose neck becomes such yoke of tyranny?
Or want I sense to feel my misery,
Or sprite, disdain of such disdain to have,
Who for long faith, though daily help I crave,
May get no alms, but scorn of beggary.
, awake! Beauty but beauty is;
I may, I must, I can, I will, I do
Leave following that which it is gain to miss.
Let her go! Soft, but here she comes! Goe to,
Unkind, I love you not! O me, that eye
Doth make my heart to give my tongue the lie!
Sir Philip Sidney
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