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Sonnet X 
Edmund Spenser 
Amoretti and Epithalamium (1595, 43)

Unrighteous Lord of love what law is this, 
That me thou makest thus tormented be: 
The whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse 
Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me. 
See how the Tyrannesse doth joy to see 
The huge massacres which her eyes do make: 
And humbled hearts brings captives unto thee, 
That thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take. 
But her proud heart doe thou a little shake 
And that high look, with which she doth comptroll 
All this world’s pride bow to a baser make, 
And all her faults in thy black booke enroll. 
That I may laugh at her in equal sort, 
As she doth laugh at me and makes my pain her sport