Astrophil and Stella

Sonnet 47

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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