Sonet. 10

F A ire eye spill me not,
Be of a better nature:
Sweet woordes kill me not,
But comforte a poore creature.

But if yee needes will spill me,
Let it bee with loue's blindenesse:
And if yee needes will kill me,
Let it bee with loue's kindnesse.

Then shall your worth be prooued
In prayse's high perfection:
And in that prayse beloued
In fancie's deere affection.

And looue in honor's residence,
Shall write but of your excellence.