Marywroth(1587–1651?)

Sonnet 39: "If I were giv'n to mirth, 'twould be more cross"

If I were giv'n to mirth, 'twould 0 be more crossit would

Thus to be robbed of my chiefest joy;

But silently I bear my greatest loss;

Who's used to sorrow, grief will not destroy;

Nor can I as those pleasant wits enjoylike

My own framed words, which I account the dross

Of purer thoughts, or reckon them as moss

While they (wit-sick) themselves to breath employ;

Alas, think I, your plenty shows your want,

For where most feeling is, words are more scant,

Yet pardon me, live, and your pleasure take,

Grudge not, if I, neglected, envy show;

'T'is not to you2 that I dislike do owe,

But crossed myself, wish some like me to make.

SNG