To find charm’s sum within one single frame

As God hath set in her t’assay and test it.

And I have passed in many a goodly court

To find in hers more charm than rumour thereof ...

In solely hers. Measure and sense to mate,

Youth and beauty learned in all delight,

Gentrice did nurse her up, and so advance

Her fair beyond all reach of evil fame,

To clear her worth, no shadow hath oppresst it.

Her contact flats not out, falls not off short....

Let her, I pray, guess out the sense hereof

For never will it stand in open prate

Until my inner heart stand in daylight,

So that heart pools him when her eyes entrance,

As never doth the Rhone, fulled and untame,

Pool, where the freshest tumult hurl to crest it.

Flimsy another’s joy, false and distort,

No paregale that she springs not above ...

Her love-touch by none other mensurate.

To have it not? Alas! Though the pains bite

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