IX. No sooner Laura mine appears to me

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

NO sooner LAURA mine appears to me;

But that a dainty dye, or blushing red,

In both our faces showeth for to be.

But who, alas, doth mine so overspread?

O’er-fervent LOVE doth draw this shadow pure;

Like cunning’st Painter, long for to endure.

Who painteth hers? Disdain, with pencil hard;

Which turneth all my sweetness into sour.

So that all my designs are quickly marred;

Except LOVE bind Love, by his awful power,

In Faith’s firm bands. Too high th’ exchange will grow,

When love, for hate; and not for like, shall go.