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- # SONNETS.
## 83
I Grant thou wert not married to my Miffe,
And therefore maiel without attained ore-looke
The dedicated words which writers vfe
Of their faire subiect, bleffing euery booke,
Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew,
Finding thy worh a limmit paft my praiffe,
And therefore art inforc’d to fecke anew,
Some fresher ftampe of the time bettering dayes,
And do fo loue, yet when they haue deufde,
What ftrained touches Rhethorick can lend,
Thou truly faire, wert truly fmpathizde,
In true plaine words, by thy true telling friend,
And their groffe painting might be better vi’d,
Where checkes need blood, in thee it is abu’f’d.
## 84
I Neuer faw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your faire no painting fet,
I found (or thought I found) you did exceed,
The barren tender of a Poets debt:
And therefore haue I flept in your report,
That you your felfe being extant well might fhow,
How farre a moderne quill doth come to fhort,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow,
This fllence for my finne you did impute,
Which fhall be moft my glory being dombe,
For I impaire not beautie being mute,
When others would giue life, and bring a tombe,
There liues more life in one of your faire eyes,
Then both your Poets can in praiffe deuife.
## 85
Who is it that foyes moft, which can fay more,
Then this rich praiffe, that you alone, are you,
In whofe confine immured is the ftore,
Which fhould example where your equall grew,
Leane penurie within that Pen doth dwell,
F a
That
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