Astrophel and Stella: 70

My Muse may well grudge at my heau'nly joy,If still I force her in sad rimes to creepe:She oft hath drunke my teares, now hopes to enjoyNectar of mirth, since I Ioues cup do keepe.Sonnets be not bound prentise to annoy:Trebles sing high, as well as bases deepe:Griefe but Loues winter liuerie is, the BoyHath cheekes to smile, as well as eyes to weepe,Come then my Muse, shew thou height of delightIn well rais'd notes, my pen the best it mayShall paint out joy, though but in black and white.Cease eager Muse, peace pen, for my sake stay,I giue you here my hand for truth of this,Wise silence is best musick vnto blisse.