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Henry King - SONNET. VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire
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VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire, 
Thou wer`t a wonder past compare: 
But frozen Love and fierce disdain 
By their extremes thy graces stain. 
Cold coyness quenches the still fires 
Which glow in Lovers warm desires; 
And scorn, like the quick Lightnings blaze, 
Darts death against affections gaze. 
O Heavens, what prodigy is this 
When Love in Beauty buried is! 
Or that dead pity thus should be 
Tomb`d in a living cruelty.
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