Sonet 1.

When murdring hands, to quench the thirst of tyrannie,
The worlds most worthye, thy spouse, and father slew:
Wounding thy heart through theyres, a double well they drew
A well of bloud from them, a well of teares from thee.

So in thyne eyes at once, we fire and water see,
Fire doth of beautie spring, water of griefe ensue.
Whoe fire and water yet together euer knew,
And neyther water dry'd nor fire quencht to be?

But wonder it is not thy water and thy fyre
Vnlike to others be, thy water fire hath bred,
And thy fire water makes, for thyne eyes fire hath shed
Teares from a thousand hearts, melted with loues desire:
And griefe to see such eyes bathed in teares of woes,
A fire of revenge inflames against thy foes.