Sonnet CIV.

Pace non trovo, e non ho da far guerra.     LOVE'S INCONSISTENCY.         I fynde no peace and all my warre is done,     I feare and hope, I bourne and freese lyke yse;     I flye above the wynde, yet cannot ryse;     And nought I have, yet all the worlde I season,     That looseth, nor lacketh, holdes me in pryson,     And holdes me not, yet can I escape no wyse.     Nor lets me leeve, nor die at my devyce,     And yet of death it giveth none occasion.     Without eye I see, and without tongue I playne;     I desyre to perishe, yet aske I health;     I love another, and yet I hate my self;     I feede in sorrow and laughe in all my payne,     Lykewyse pleaseth me both death and lyf,     And my delight is cawser of my greif.     WYATT.[S]     [Footnote S: Harrington's Nug Antiqu.]         Warfare I cannot wage, yet know not peace;     I fear, I hope, I burn, I freeze again;     Mount to the skies, then bow to earth my face;     Grasp the whole world, yet nothing can obtain.     His prisoner Love nor frees, nor will detain;     In toils he holds me not, nor will release;     He slays me not, nor yet will he unchain;     Nor joy allows, nor lets my sorrow cease.     Sightless I see my fair; though mute, I mourn;     I scorn existence, and yet court its stay;     Detest myself, and for another burn;     By grief I'm nurtured; and, though tearful, gay;     Death I despise, and life alike I hate:     Such, lady, dost thou make my wayward state!     NOTT.