Sonet 27

I gaue my faith to Loue, Loue his to mee,
That hee and I, sworne brothers should remaine,
Thus fayth receiu'd, fayth giuen back againe,
Who would imagine bond more sure could be?
Loue flies to her, yet holds he my fayth taken,
Thus from my vertue raiseth my offence,
Making me guilty by mine innocence;
And surer bond by beeing so forsaken,
He makes her aske what I before had vow'd,
Giuing her that, which he had giuen me,
I bound by him, and he by her made free,
Who euer so hard breach of fayth alow'd?
    Speake you that should of right and wrong discusse,
    Was right ere wrong'd, or wrong ere righted thus?

Michael Drayton

Michael Drayton was an English poet who produced a variety of work, including historical poems, sonnets, and a vast poem on the geography of England. His most significant contribution to poetry is the long historical epic "Poly-Olbion" which describes the topography and history of England and Wales. Drayton's poetry often reflects his staunch patriotism and deep scholarly interest in English history.

Michael Drayton

Sonnets: Idea L

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

To The Deere Chyld Of The Muses, And His Euer Kind MecæNas, Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

Amour 10

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

Sonnets: Idea LX

Michael Drayton, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonet 29 To The Sences

When conquering loue did first my hart assaile,
Vnto mine ayde I summond euery sence,
Doubting if that proude tyrant should preuaile,
My hart should suffer for mine eyes offence;
But he with beauty, first corrupted sight,
My hearing bryb'd with her tongues harmony,
My taste, by her sweet lips drawne with delight,
My smelling wonne with her breaths spicerie;
But when my touching came to play his part,
(The King of sences, greater than the rest)
That yeelds loue up the keyes vnto my hart,
And tells the other how they should be blest;
    And thus by those of whom I hop'd for ayde,
    To cruell Loue my soule was first betrayd.

Michael Drayton

Sonnet 27

Is not Loue here, as 'tis in other Clymes,
And diff'reth it, as doe the seu'rall Nations?
Or hath it lost the Vertue, with the Times,
Or in this land alt'reth with the Fashions?
Or haue our Passions lesser pow'r then theirs,
Who had lesse Art them liuely to expresse?
Is Nature growne lesse pow'rfull in their Heires,
Or in our Fathers did the more transgresse?
I am sure my Sighes come from a Heart as true,
As any Mans, that Memory can boast,
And my Respects and Seruices to you
Equall with his, that loues his Mistris most:
    Or Nature must be partiall in my Cause,
    Or onely you doe violate her Lawes.

Michael Drayton

Sonet 21

You cannot loue my pretty hart, and why?
There was a time, you told me that you would,
But now againe you will the same deny,
If it might please you, would to God you could;
What will you hate? nay, that you will not neither,
Nor loue, nor hate, how then? what will you do,
What will you keepe a meane then betwixt eyther?
Or will you loue me, and yet hate me to?
Yet serues not this, what next, what other shift?
You will, and will not, what a coyle is heere,
I see your craft, now I perceaue your drift,
And all this while, I was mistaken there.
    Your loue and hate is this, I now doe proue you,
    You loue in hate, by hate to make me loue you.

Michael Drayton

Sonet 12

To nothing fitter can I thee compare,
Then to the sonne of some rich penyfather,
Who hauing now brought on his end with care,
Leaues to his son all he had heap'd together;
This newe rich nouice, lauish of his chest,
To one man giues, and on another spends,
Then here he ryots, yet amongst the rest,
Haps to lend some to one true honest friend.
Thy gifts thou in obscuritie doost wast,
False friends thy kindnes, borne but to deceiue thee,
Thy loue, that is on the unworthy plac'd,
Time hath thy beauty, which with age will leaue thee;
    Onely that little which to me was lent,
    I giue thee back, when all the rest is spent.

Michael Drayton

Sonnet 58 To Prouerbe

As Loue and I, late harbour'd in one Inne,
With Prouerbs thus each other intertaine;
In loue there is no lacke, thus I beginne?
Faire words makes fooles, replieth he againe?
That spares to speake, doth spare to speed (quoth I)
As well (saith he) too forward as too slow.
Fortune assists the boldest, I replie?
A hasty man (quoth he) nere wanted woe.
Labour is light, where loue (quoth I) doth pay,
(Saith he) light burthens heauy, if farre borne?
(Quoth I) the maine lost, cast the by away:
You haue spunne a faire thred, he replies in scorne.
    And hauing thus a while each other thwarted,
    Fooles as we met, so fooles againe we parted.

Michael Drayton

To His Rivall

    Her lou'd I most,
    By thee that 's lost,
Though she were wonne with leasure;
    She was my gaine,
    But to my paine,
Thou spoyl'st me of my Treasure.

    The Ship full fraught
    With Gold, farre sought,
Though ne'r so wisely helmed,
    May suffer wracke
    In sayling backe,
By Tempest ouer-whelmed.

    But shee, good Sir,
    Did not preferre
You, for that I was ranging;
    But for that shee
    Found faith in mee,
And she lou'd to be changing.

    Therefore boast not
    Your happy Lot,
Be silent now you haue her;
    The time I knew
    She slighted you,
When I was in her fauour.

    None stands so fast,
    But may be cast
By Fortune, and disgraced:
    Once did I ...

Michael Drayton