Astrophil and Stella
Sonnet 78
O how the pleasant airs of true love be
Infected by those vapours which arise
From out that noisome gulf, which gaping lies
Between the jaws of hellish jealousy!
A monster, others' harm, self-misery,
beauty's plague, virtue's scourge, succour of lies;
Who his own joy to his own hurt applies,
And only cherish doth with injury:
Who since he hath, by nature's special grace,
So piercing paws as spoil when they embrace;
So nimble feet as stir still, though on thorns;
So many eyes, aye seeking their own woe;
So ample ears as never good news know:
Is it not ill that such a devil wants horns?
Sir Philip Sidney
Back to Sonnet 77
Forward to Sonnet 79