Xlv

Mine eye bewrays the secrets of my heart, My heart unfolds his grief before her face; Her face--bewitching pleasure of my smart!-- Deigns not one look of mercy and of grace. My guilty eye of murder and of treason,-- Friendly conspirator of my decay, Dumb eloquence, the lover's strongest reason!-- Doth weep itself for anger quite away, And chooseth rather not to be, than be Disloyal, by too well discharging duty; And being out, joys it no more can see The sugared charms of all deceiving beauty. But, for the other greedily doth eye it, I pray you tell me, what do I get by it?