Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 63. Truce, Gentle Love, a Parley Now I Crave

Truce, gentle Love, a parley now I crave;
Methinks 'tis long since first these wars begun;
Nor thou nor I the better yet can have;
Bad is the match where neither party won.
I offer free conditions of fair peace,
My heart for hostage that it shall remain;
Discharge our forces, here let malice cease,
So for my pledge thou give me pledge again.
Or if no thing but death will serve thy turn,
Still thirsting for subversion of my state,
Do what thou canst, rase, massacre, and burn;
Let the world see the utmost of thy hate;
    I send defiance, since, if overthrown, 
    Thou vanquishing, the conquest is my own.

1. Sonnet 47. In Pride of Wit
2. Sonnet 23. Love, Banish'd Heav'n
3. Roc
4. Sonnet 14. If He From Heav'n
5. Sonnet 27. Is not Love

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