Sonnet I. Mistress! Behold, in this true speaking Glass

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

MISTRESS! Behold, in this true speaking Glass,

Thy Beauty’s graces! of all women rarest!

Where thou may’st find how largely they surpass

And stain in glorious loveliness, the fairest.

But read, sweet Mistress! and behold it nearer!

Pond’ring my sorrow’s outrage with some pity.

Then shalt thou find no worldly creature dearer,

Than thou to me, thyself, in each Love Ditty!

But, in this Mirror, equally compare

Thy matchless beauty, with mine endless grief!

There, like thyself none can be found so fair;

Of chiefest pains, there, are my pains the chief.

Betwixt these both, this one doubt shalt thou find!

Whether are, here, extremest, in their kind?