(Sonnet XII)
One day I sought with her heart-thrilling eyes,
to make a truce and terms to entertain:
all fearless then of so false enemies,
which sought me to entrap in treason's train.
So as I then disarmed did remain,
a wicked ambush which lay hidden long
in the close covert of her guilefull eyen,
thence breaking forth did thick about me throng,
Too feeble I t'abide the brunt so strong,
was forst to yield my self into their hands:
who me captiving straight with rigorous wrong,
have ever since me kept in cruel bands.
So Lady now to you I do complain,
against your eyes that justice I may gain.