Loving in truth, and faine in verse my love to show,
That she, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe;
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Inventions stay;
Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Studies blows;
And others feet still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throwes,
Biting my trewand pen, beating myself for spite,
Fool, said my Muse to me, looke in thy heart, and write.
.........................Philip Sidney (Sonnet 1: Astrophil and Stella)
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