Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Laura—Part IIII. Marvel I do not, though thou dost not see
Robert Tofte (1561–1620)M
My griefs and martyrs; which I still sustain.
For thou, the Mole of Love dost seem to me;
But if a Mole, th’ art only to my pain.
How comes it then that, seeing thou art blind,
Thou me consum’st, as if thou had’st thy sight?
Why, as thy nature by instinct doth bind,
Stayest not below? Pack hence, and leave this light!
Either those eyes still shut, not me to grieve;
Or under ground, in darkness, always live!