Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Parthenophil and ParthenopheMadrigal 20. My Love, alas, is sick! Fie, envious Sickness!
Barnabe Barnes (1569?–1609)M
That, at her breast (where rest all joys and ease),
Thou shouldst take such despite, her to displease,
In whom, all virtue’s health hath quickness!
Thou durst not come in living likeness!
For hadst thou come, thou couldst not her disease!
Her beauty would not let thee press!
Sweet graces, which continually attend her,
At her short breath, breathe short! and sigh so deep!
Which Sickness’s sharp furies might appease:
Both Loves and Graces strive to mend her.
O never let me rest; but sigh and weep!
Never but weep and sigh! “Sick is my Love;
And I love-sick! Yet physic may befriend her!
But what shall my disease remove?”