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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 4: Virtue, Alas
Work rating: Medium

Virtue, alas, now let me take some rest. 
Thou set`st a bate between my soul and wit. 
If vain love have my simple soul oppress`d, 
Leave what thou likest not, deal not thou with it. 

The scepter use in some old Cato`s breast; 
Churches or schools are for thy seat more fit. 
I do confess, pardon a fault confess`d, 
My mouth too tender is for thy hard bit. 

But if that needs thou wilt usurping be, 
The little reason that is left in me, 
And still th`effect of thy persuasions prove: 

I swear, my heart such one shall show to thee 
That shrines in flesh so true a deity, 
That Virtue, thou thyself shalt be in love.
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