To paint her outward shape and gifts of mind,
It doth exceed my wit and cunning far.
She hath no fault, but that she is unkind.
All other parts in her so complete are,
That who, to view them throughly would devise,
Must have his body nothing else but eyes.
XII.
Fair is my Love! whose parts are so well framed,
By Nature's special order and direction;
That She herself is more than half ashamed,