| Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904. | | | | Diella | | Sonnet XVI. But thou, my dear sweet-sounding lute, be still! | | Richard Linche (fl. 1596–1601) |
| | | BUT thou, my dear sweet-sounding lute, be still! | |
| repose thy troubled strings upon this moss! | |
| Thou hast full often eased me ’gainst my will: | |
| lie down in peace, thy spoil were my great loss! | |
| I’ll speak enough of her too cruel heart, | 5 |
| enough to move the stony rocks to ruth! | |
| And cause these trees weep tears to hear my smart, | |
| though cruel She will not once weigh my truth. | |
| Her face is of the purest white and red, | |
| her eyes are crystal, and her hair is gold. | 10 |
| The World, for shape with garlands crown her head, | |
| and yet a tigress’ heart dwells in this mould. | |
| But I must love her, Tigress! too too much! | |
| Forced; must I love! because I find none such. | | | | |
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