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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 6: Some Lovers Speak
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Some lovers speak when they their Muses entertain, 
Of hopes begot by fear, of wot not what desires: 
Of force of heav`nly beams, infusing hellish pain: 
Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing fires.

Some one his song in Jove, and Jove`s strange tales attires, 
Broidered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden rain; 
Another humbler wit to shepherd`s pipe retires, 
Yet hiding royal blood full oft in rural vein. 

To some a sweetest plaint a sweetest style affords, 
While tears pour out his ink, and sighs breathe out his words: 
His paper pale despair, and pain his pen doth move. 

I can speak what I feel, and feel as much as they, 
But think that all the map of my state I display, 
When trembling voice brings forth that I do Stella love.
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