Ay me! hath heaven's strait fingers no more graces
For such as Hero[68] than for homeliest faces?
Yet she hoped well, and in her sweet conceit
Weighing her arguments, she thought them weight,
And that the logic of Leander's beauty,
And them together, would bring proofs of duty;390
And if her soul, that was a skilful glance
Of heaven's great essence, found such imperance[69]
In her love's beauties, she had confidence
Jove loved him too, and pardoned her offence: