351To finde where your true Image pictur'd lies,

352Which in my bosomes shop is hanging stil,

353That hath his windowes glazed with thine eyes:

354Now see what good-turnes eyes for eies haue done,

355Mine eyes haue drawne thy shape, and thine for me

356Are windowes to my brest, where-through the Sun

357Delights to peepe, to gaze therein on thee

358 Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art

359They draw but what they see, know not the hart.

361LEt those who are in fauor with their stars,

362Of publike honour and proud titles bost,

363Whilst I whome fortune of such tryumph bars

364Vnlookt for ioy in that I honour most;

365Great Princes fauorites their faire leaues spread,

366But as the Marygold at the suns eye,

367And in them-selues their pride lies buried,

368For at a frowne they in their glory die.

369The painefull warrier famosed for worth,

370After a thousand victories once foild,

371Is from the booke of honour rased quite,

372And all the rest forgot for which he toild:

373 Then happy I that loue and am beloued

374Where I may not remoue, nor be remoued.

376LOrd of my loue, to whome in vassalage

377Thy merrit hath my dutie strongly knit;

378To thee I send this written ambassage

379To witnesse duty, not to shew my wit.

380Duty so great, which wit so poore as mine

381May make seeme bare, in wanting words to shew it;

382But that I hope some good conceipt of thine

383In thy soules thought(all naked) will bestow it:

384Til whatsoeuer star that guides my mouing,

385Points on me gratiously with faire aspect,

386And puts apparrell on my tottered louing,