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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 67: Hope, Art Thou True
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Hope, art thou true, or dost thou flatter me? 
Doth Stella now begin with piteous eye 
The ruins of her conquest to espy: 
Will she take time, before all wracked be? 

Her eye`s speech is translated thus by thee. 
But failst thou not in phrase so heav`nly high? 
Look on again, the fair text better try: 
What blushing notes dost thou in margin see? 

What sighs stol`n out, or kill`d before full born? 
Hast thou found such and such like arguments? 
Or art thou else to comfort me foresworn? 

Well, how so thou interpret the contents, 
I am resolv`d thy error to maintain, 
Rather than by more truth to get more pain.
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