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Poem	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] 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;[Pg 133]Death I despise, and life alike I hate:Such, lady, dost thou make my wayward state! Nott.
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