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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 1907.

For Pity, Pretty Eyes, Surcease

Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)

FOR pity, pretty eyes, surcease

To give me war, and grant me peace.

Triumphant eyes, why bear you arms

Against a heart that thinks no harms?

A heart already quite appalled,

A heart that yields and is enthralled?

Kill rebels, proudly that resist;

Not those that in true faith persist,

And conquered serve your deity.

Will you, alas! command me die?

Then die I yours, and death my cross;

But unto you pertains the loss.