Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Astrophel and StellaXXXIV. Come, let me write. “And to what end?” To ease
Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)C
A burthened heart. “How can words ease, which are
The glasses of thy daily vexing care?”
Oft, cruel fights well pictured forth do please.
“Art not ashamed to publish thy disease?”
Nay that may breed my fame. It is so rare.
“But will not wise men think thy words fond ware?”
Then be they close, and so none shall displease.
“What idler thing, than speak and not be heard?”
What harder thing, than smart and not to speak?
“Peace! foolish wit!” With wit, my wit is marred.
Thus write I, while I doubt to write; and wreak
My harms on ink’s poor loss. Perhaps some find
S