1.
Do nothing muse at my deformed face,
For nature it in perfect moulde dyd make:
And when your wits haue wayed well the case,
You wyll commende me much for vertue’s sake:
With these my handes which from my face dyd take
Mine ouer-lippe, and eke my seemely nose,
So to auoyde the rage of all my foes.
2.
For I by byrth a prince’s daughter borne,