A person of so rare a frame,
Her body might be lined with' same.
Beauty's chiefest maid of honour,
10You may break Lent with looking on her.
Not the fair Abbess of the skies,
With all her nunnery of eyes,
Can show me such a glorious prize!
And yet, because 'tis more renown
To make a shadow shine, she's brown;
A brown for which Heaven would disband