Hath cheekes to smile, so well as eyes weepe.
Come then my Muse, shew the height of delight
In well raisde noates my pen the best it may
Shall paint out joy, though but in blacke and white.
Cease eager Muse, peace pen for my sake stay.
I give you heere my hand for truth of this:
Wise silence is best Musique unto blisse.
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