Sonnet C. Pleading for pity to my Mistress’ eyes

Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)

PLEADING for pity to my Mistress’ eyes;

Urging on duty favours as deserts;

Complaining mine hid flames, and secret smarts:

She, with disdainful grace, in jest, replies,

“Her eyes were never made man’s enemies!”

Then me with my conceit she overthwarts,

Urging my Fancy (which vain thoughts imparts)

To be the causer of mine injuries,

Saying, “I am not vexed, as I complained!

How Melancholy bred this light conceit!”

Hard-hearted Mistress! Canst thou think I feigned?

That I, with fancies vain, vain woe repeat?

Ah, no! For though thine eyes none else offend;

Yet by thine Eyes and “Noes!” my woes want end!