Who will in fayrest booke of nature know,
How Vertue may best lodgde in Beautie bee,
Let him but learne of love to read in thee
Stella those faire lines which true goodnes showe.
There shall he finde all vices overthrowe:
Not by rude force, but sweetest soveraigntie
Of reason, from whose light, the night birdes flie,
That inward Sunne in thine eyes shineth so.
And not content to be perfections heir,
Thy selfe doth strive all mindes that way to move:
Who marke in thee what is in deede most faire,
So while thy beautie drives my hart to love,
As fast thy vertue bends that love to good:
But ah, Desire still cryes, give me some food.