By reason good, good reason her to love.
In truth oh Love: with what a boyish kinde
Thou doost proceede, in thy most serious waies;
That when the heaven to thee his best displaies,
Yet of that best thou leav’st the best behinde.
That like a Childe that some faire booke doth finde
With gilden leaves of colloured Velom, playes
Or at the most on some faire picture stares,
But never heedes the fruite of Writers minde.
So when thou sawest in Natures cabinet,