Sonnet 77 -

Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne,
A goodly table of pure yvory:
All spred with juncats, fit to entertayne,
The greatest Prince with pompous roialty.
Mongst which there in a silver dish did ly,
Twoo golden apples of unvalewd price:
Far passing those which Hercules came by,
Or those which Atalanta did entice.
Exceeding sweet, yet voyd of sinfull vice,
That many sought yet none could ever taste,
Sweet fruit of pleasure brought from paradice
By love himselfe and in his garden plaste.
Her brest that table was so richly spredd,
My thoughts the guests, which would thereon have fedd.
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