Sonnet 143

Loe, as carefull huswife runnes to catch,

One of her feathered creatures broake away,

Sets downe her babe and makes all swift dispatch

In pursuit of the thing she would have stay:

Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace,

Cries to catch her whose busie care is bent,

To follow that which flies before her face:

Not prizing her poore infants discontent;

So runst thou after that which flies from thee,

Whilst thy babe chace thee afarre behind,

But if thou catch thy hope, turne back to me:

And play the mothers part, kisse me, be kind.

So will I pray that thou maist have thy Will,

If thou turne back and my loude crying still.