Sonnet 21

WAS it the worke of Nature or of Art,

Which tempred so the feature of her face:

That pride and meeknesse, mixt by equall part,

Doe both appeare t'adorne her beauties grace.

For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace,

She to her loue doth lookers eies allure:

And with sterne countenaunce back again doth chace

Their looser lookes that stir vp lustes impure,

With such strange termes her eies she doth imnure,

That with one looke she doth my life dismay:

And with another doth it streight recure,

Her smile me drawes, her frowne me driues away.

Thus doth she traine and teach me with her lookes,

Such art of eies I neuer read in bookes.