SONNET. XII. One day I sought with her hart‐thrilling eies, to make a truce and termes to entertaine: all fearelesse then of so false enimies, which sought me to entrap in treasons traine. So as I then disarmed did remaine, a wicked ambush which lay hidden long in the close couert of her guilefull eyen, thence breaking forth did thick about me throng. Too feeble I t'abide the brunt so strong, was forst to yeeld my selfe into their hands: who me captiuing streight with rigorous wrong, haue euer since me kept in cruell bands. So Ladie now to you I doo complaine, against your eies that iustice I may gaine.