A Poem.
LOoke not too long vpō those looks, y• blinds the ouerlooker sore,
& if you speak, speak not to much, lest speaking once y• speak no more▪
think not but what it is to think, to reach beyōd the reach of thought▪
And if you do, do what you can, when you haue don you can do nought.
But if you see against your will, looke but away and be not slaine,
And if a worde go vnawares, with care it may be calde againe.
And for a thought it is not hurt, except it grow vnto a thing,
But to vndo that hath bene done, is onely conquest of a king.
But since in thee O silly wretch, both sight, & speach, & thought and deed
By reason of a wrong conceit, do but thine owne confusion breed.
Shut vp thy eies, seale vp thy tongue, lock vp thy thought, lay downe thy head
And let thy mistres see by this, how loue hath strock her seruant dead.
And that but in her heauenly eye, her worde, her thought, and onely will
Doth rest the dead, to kill the quite, or else to cure thee of this ill,