The Sonnets

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,

How to divide the conquest of thy sight;

Mine eye my heart thy pictureʼs sight would bar,

My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.

My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,—

A closet never piercʼd with crystal eyes—

But the defendant doth that plea deny,

And says in him thy fair appearance lies.

To side this title is impannelled

A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart;

And by their verdict is determined

The clear eyeʼs moiety, and the dear heartʼs part:

As thus; mine eyeʼs due is thy outward part,

And my heartʼs right, thy inward love of heart.