As they that worke in mines, rich vaines beray, By some few garaines[255] of ore whereon the[y] hit: And as one letter found is oft a kay To many lines that ar in cipher writt; So I by your few loveing lines descry Of your long hiden love the golden mine; And reade therein with a true lover's eye Of the hart's volume, every secrett line. But what availes it now, alas to know That once a blessed man I might haue beene? Since I haue lett, by lookeing downe too low My highest fortunes sore away vnseene: And yett if I had raisd my humble eyes As high as heauen I could not haue discer[n]d Of invisible thoughts which in your hart did rise, Unles of you I had my lesson learnd. But all was darke and folden vp to me; As soon might I my selfe, my selfe haue taught To read y^{ e} blacke records of destiny, As read the ridles of the silent thought: But whereto may I best resemble this? Your loue was like the springing of a tree: We cannot see the growing when it is, But that it hath sprunge up and growne, we see. Or it is like to wealth by fairyes brought, Which they bring still while they invisible goe; But all doth vanish and doth turne to nought, If once a man enricht, those fairyes know: But now your loue (say you) is dead and gone: But my strong faith shall giue it life againe. By strength of fancy miricles are done, And true beleefe doth seldom hope in vaine. Your Ph[oe]nix loue is vnto ashes turnd, But now the fier of my affection true, Which long within my hart hath kyndly burnd, Shall spreade such heate as it shall liue anew. Or if the fyer of your celestiall loue, Be mounted vp to heauen and cannot dye: Another slye Prometheus will I prove, and play the theife to steale it from the skye. When you vouchsaft to love vnworthy me, Your loue discended like a shower of raine; Which on the earth, euen senceles though she bee, when once it falls, returneth not againe. Then why should you withdraw the heauenly dew Which fell sometymes on your despairing lover? Though then his earthly spirit full little knew How good an Angel did about him houer. O you the glory of your sex and race! You that all tymes and places hapie make! You that in beeing vertuous vertue grace, and make men love it better for your sake: One sunbeame yet of favour cast on mee, Let one kinde thought in your cleare fancy rise: Loue but a thought, or if that may not be Be pleasd that I may love, it shall suffise.