Her body matchless! matchless are her thoughts!
Herself but one! but one like her, we find!
Her wealth's her virtue! Such virtue is not bought!
This is a heaven on earth, makes her divine!
This is the sun, obscures where it doth shine!
Urania next. O that I had that Art
Could write her worth! her worth no eye may see!
Or that her tongue (O heaven!) were now my heart,
What silver lines in showers should drop from me!
My heart she keeps! how can I then indite?