Poem by Henry Constable

Of the Prowesse of His Ladie

Sonet 5

Sweete Soueraigne sith so many mynds remayne
Obedient subiects at thy beautyes call
So many thoughts bound in thy hayre as thrall
So many hearts dye with one lookes disdayne.

Goe seeke that glorie which doth thee pertayne
That the fift monarchie may thee befall
Thow hast such meanes to conquer men withall
As all the world must yeeld or else be slayne.

To fight thow needst no weapons but thyne eyes
Thy hayre hath gold enough to pay thy men
And for theyre foode thy beautie will suffice

For men and armoure (Ladie) care haue none
For one will soonest yeeld vnto thee then
When he shall meet thee naked and alone.

1. Of the Nativity of the Lady Rich's Daughter
2. To the Marquess of Piscat's Soul
3. H.C. to the Gentleman Reader
4. To the Blessed Sacrament
5. My Lady’s Presence Makes the Roses Red

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