Sweet swelling lip well maiest thou swell in pride
Since best wittes thinke it witt thee to admire,
Natures praise, vertues stall, Cupids colde fire,
Whence words, not words but heavenly graces slide,
The newe Pernassus where the Muses byde:
Sweeteness of Musicke, Wisomes beautifier,
Breather of life, and fastner of desire,
Where Beauties blush in Honors graine is dyde.
Thus much my hart compeld my mouth to say:
But now, spite of my heart my tongue will stay,
Loathing al lyes, doubting this flatterieis,
And no spurre can this restie race renewe;
Without how farre this praise is short of you,
Sweete lipp you teach my mouth with one sweete kisse.