Sonnet: Rhymes first, poem second: Shakespearean

Title: The Spear Not Shaken

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I know your voice; your words are passing Sweet.

They cloy the throat and summon hordes of Flies

The courtiers consider you a Treat;

They cannot tell veracity from Lies.

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Oh, Laura! I'd not interrupt your Course,

Nor dissuade others who would hear you Speak!

Go on, my dear! Spread gossip 'til you're Hoarse

Connive away in strength! Let me seem Weak.

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But caution, lady! Fangs hide 'neath my Smile;

So as you from your downfall draw your Loans,

Remember I can see you all the While

And in the end, I'll tread upon your Bones...

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And you'll deserve your dying gasp of Fear

For you thought wrongly! Ne'er disdain my Spear.