SONNET. XVIII.
Ot Megabætes nor Cleonymus,
(Of whom great Plutarch makes such mention,
Praysing their faire with rare inuention)
As Ganymede were halfe so beauteous.
They onely pleas'd the eies of two great Kings,
But all the worlde at my loue stands amazed,
Nor one that on his Angels face hath gazed,
But (rauisht with delight) him Presents brings.
Some weaning Lambs, and some a suckling Kyd,
Some Nuts, and fil-beards, others Peares and Plums,
Another with a milk-white Heyfar comes;
As lately Ægons man (Damætas) did:
But neither he, nor all the Nymphs beside,
Can win my Ganymede, with them t'abide.
SONNET. XIX.
H no; nor I my selfe: though my pure loue
(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still beene pure,
And euen till my last gaspe shall aie endure,
Could euer thy obdurate beuty moue:
Then cease oh Goddesse sonne (for sure thou art,
A Goddesse sonne that canst resist desire)
Cease thy hard heart, and entertaine loues fire,
Within thy sacred breast: by Natures art.
And as I loue thee more then any Creature,
(Loue thee, because thy beautie is diuine;
Loue thee, because my selfe, my soule is thine:
Wholie deuoted to thy louelie feature),
Euen so of all the vowels, I and V,
Are dearest vnto me, as doth ensue.
