431How much more shall the straines of poets wit,

432Beguild and rauish soft and humane myndes.

433Lor: To whome my Lord shal I direct my stile.

434King: To one that shames the faire and sots the wise,

435Whose bodie is an abstract or a breefe,

436Containes ech generall vertue in the worlde,

437Better then bewtifull thou must begin,

438Deuise for faire a fairer word then faire,

439And euery ornament that thou wouldest praise,

440Fly it a pitch aboue the soare of praise,

441For flattery feare thou not to be conuicted,

442For were thy admiration ten tymes more,

443Ten tymes ten thousand more thy worth exceeds,

444Of that thou art to praise their praises worth,

445Beginne I will to contemplat the while,

446Forget not to set downe how passionat,

447How hart sicke and how full of languishment,

448Her beautie makes mee,

449Lor: Writ I to a woman?

450King: What bewtie els could triumph on me,

451Or who but women doe our loue layes greet,

452What thinekst thou I did bid thee praise a horse.

453Lor, Of what condicion or estate she is,

454Twere requisit that I should know my Lord,

455King: Of such estate, that hers is as a throane,

456And my estate the footstoole where shee treads,

457Then maist thou iudge what her condition is,

458By the proportion of her mightines,

459Write on while I peruse her in my thoughts,

460Her voice to musicke or the nightingale,

461To musicke euery sommer leaping swaine,

462Compares his sunburnt louer when shee speakes,

463And why should I speake of the nightingale,

464The nightingale singes of adulterate wrong,

465And that compared is to satyrical,

466For sinne though synne would not be so esteemd,

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