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John Suckling - Sonnet I
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Dost see how unregarded now
        That piece of beauty passes?
There was a time when I did vow
        To that alone;
    But mark the fate of faces;
The red and white works now no more on me
Than if it could not charm, or I not see.

And yet the face continues good,
        And I have still desires,
Am still the selfsame flesh and blood,
        As apt to melt
    And suffer from those fires;
Oh some kind pow`r unriddle where it lies,
Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes?

She ev`ry day her man does kill,
        And I as often die;
Neither her power then, nor my will
        Can question`d be.
    What is the mystery?
Sure beauty`s empires, like to greater states,
Have certain periods set, and hidden fates.
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