That thou art faire exceeding all compare,
Witnes thy eyes that gaze vpon thy beautie,
Witnes the hearts thou daily dost insnare,
And draw to honour thee with louers dutie:
That thou art wise witnes the worlds report,
Witnes the thoughts that do so much admire thee,
Witnes the heauen-borne Muses that resort,
And for their mistris meekly do desire thee:
That thou art both exceeding faire and wise,
Witnes the anguish of my sillie hart:
Thy heauenly shape hath caught me by my eyes,
Thy secret wisedome that giues art to art,
So circumuents me and procures my paine,
That I must dye, vnles thou true remaine.