XII. Drawn, cunning Painter, hast thou with great art

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

DRAWN, cunning Painter, hast thou with great art,

The Shadow [Image] of my lovely LAURA fair;

Which object sweet not smally joys my heart:

But little didst thou think, nor wast thou ’ware,

That where thou thought’st my fancy for to please,

Effect contrary sorts to my desire:

So that it breeds, in body mine, unease;

And, senseless, burns my heart with feeling fire.

O strange success! What made was for content

Doth most displease; and, lifeless, doth torment.