A Sonnet to the Noble Lady, the Lady Mary Wroth

I that have been a lover, and could show it,

Though not in these, in rithmes not wholly dumb,

Since I exscribe your sonnets, am become

A better lover, and much better poet.

Nor is my Muse or I ashamed to owe it

To those true numerous graces, whereof some

But charm the senses, others overcome

Both brains and hearts; and mine now best do know it:

For in your verse all Cupid’s armory,

His flames, his shafts, his quiver, and his bow,

His very eyes are yours to overthrow.

But then his mother’s sweets you so apply,

Her joys, her smiles, her loves, as readers take

For Venus’ ceston every line you make.