Sonnet 7

FAYRE eies, the myrrour of my mazéd hart,

What wondrous vertue is contaynd in you

The which both lyfe and death forth from you dart

Into the obiect of your mighty view?

For when ye mildly looke with lovely hew,

Then is my soule with life and love inspired:

But when ye lowre, or looke on me askew

Then doe I die, as one with lightning fyred.

But since that lyfe is more then death desyred,

Looke ever lovely, as becomes you best,

That your bright beams, of my weak eyes admyred,

May kindle living fire within my brest.

Such life should be the honor of your light,

Such death the sad ensample of your might