Sonnet 16

ONE day as I unwarily did gaze

On those fayre eyes my loves immortall light:

The whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze,

Through sweet illusion of her lookes delight.

I mote perceive how, in her glauncing sight,

Legions of loves with little wings did fly:

Darting their deadly arrowes, fyry bright,

At every rash beholder passing by.

One of those archers closely I did spy,

Ayming his arrow at my very hart:

When suddenly, with twincle of her eie,

The damzell broke his misintended dart.

Had she not so doon, sure I had bene slayne,

Yet as it was, I hardly scap't with paine.