SONNET XII

Thou hold'st the shameless lease of all of me,

The tenant of my lovesick heart beside.

Impotent thus to sign the oust of thee,

To sweet and fix'ed terms I will abide

Domestic pettifog will not be smoothed

Until thy niggle-needs art martial law.

By rais'ed brow my huff and pluck art mewed

Precised by she who holds the matrix straw.

As strapp'ed geldings tow the virgin sleigh,

Chafe not the queen'ed hand nor silken glove.

By this sweet tethered creed I'll trot and neigh,

For men thus spanned by love will gladly love.

As captors willing captive caught alive

Thy touch art all I need for to survive