1216I Grant thou wert not married to my Muse,

1217And therefore maiest without attaint ore-looke

1218The dedicated words which writers vse

1219Of their faire subiect, blessing euery booke.

1220Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew,

1221Finding thy worth a limmit past my praise,

1222And therefore art inforc'd to seeke anew,

1223Some fresher stampe of the time bettering dayes.

1224And do so loue, yet when they haue deuisde,

1225What strained touches Rhethorick can lend,

1226Thou truly faire, wert truly simpathizde,

1227In true plaine words, by thy true telling friend.

1228 And their grosse painting might be better vs'd,

1229Where cheekes need blood, in thee it is abus'd.

1231I Neuer saw that you did painting need,

1232And therefore to your faire no painting set,

1233I found( or thought I found) you did exceed,

1234The barren tender of a Poets debt:

1235And therefore haue I slept in your report,

1236That you your selfe being extant well might show,

1237How farre a moderne quill doth come to short,

1238Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow,

1239This silence for my sinne you did impute,

1240Which shall be most my glory being dombe,

1241For I impaire not beautie being mute,

1242When others would giue life, and bring a tombe.

1243 There liues more life in one of your faire eyes,

1244Then both your Poets can in praise deuise.

1246WHo is it that sayes most, which can say more,

1247Then this rich praise, that you alone, are you,

1248In whose confine immured is the store,

1249Which should example where your equall grew,

1250Leane penurie within that Pen doth dwell,