Sonnet 27

I heare some say, this man is not in loue,

Who, can he loue? a likely thing they say:

Reade but his verse, and it will easily proue;

O iudge not rashly (gentle Sir) I pray,

Because I loosely tryfle in this sort,

As one that faine his sorrowes would beguile:

You now suppose me, all this time in sport,

And please your selfe with this conceit the while.

You shallow censures; sometime see you not

In greatest perills some men pleasant be,

Where fame by death is onely to be got,

They resolute, so stands the case with me;

Where other men, in depth of passion cry,

I laugh at fortune, as in iest to die.

Minor Poems of Michael Drayton · 第 108 / 239 题