Sonnet X. Unrighteous lord of love, what law is this

Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)

UNRIGHTEOUS lord of love, what law is this,

That me thou makest thus tormented be,

The whiles she lordeth in licentious bliss

Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me?

See! how the tyranness doth joy to see

The huge massácres which her eyes do make;

And humbled hearts brings captive unto thee,

That thou of them mayst mighty vengeance take,

But her proud heart do thou a little shake,

And that high look, with which she doth control

All this world’s pride, bow to a baser make,

And all her faults in thy black book enroll:

That I may laugh at her in equal sort,

As she doth laugh at me, and makes my pain her sport.