1 I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
2 And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
3 The dedicated words which writers use
4 Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
5 Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
6 Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
7 And therefore art enforced to seek anew
8 Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days
9 And do so, love; yet when they have devis'd
10 What strained touches rhetoric can lend,
11 Thou truly fair wert truly sympathiz'd
12 In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
13 And their gross painting might be better us'd
14 Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abus'd.