7 If all the world were sought so far,
Who could find such a wight?
Her beauty twinkleth like a star
Within the frosty night.
8 Her rosial colour comes and goes
"With such a comely grace,
More ruddier, too, than doth the rose,
Within her lively face."
9 At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,
Nor at no wanton play,
Nor gazing in an open street,
Nor gadding, as astray.
10 The modest mirth that she doth use,
Is mix'd with shamefastness;
All vice she doth wholly refuse,
And hateth idleness.
11 O Lord, it is a world to see
How virtue can repair,
And deck in her such honesty,
Whom Nature made so fair.
12 Truly she doth as far exceed
Our women now-a-days,
As doth the gilliflower a wreed,
And more a thousand ways.
13 How might I do to get a graff
Of this unspotted tree?
For all the rest are plain but chaff
Which seem good corn to be.
14 This gift alone I shall her give,
When death doth what he can:
Her honest fame shall ever live
Within the mouth of man.
THAT ALL THINGS SOMETIME FIND EASE OF THEIR PAIN, SAVE ONLY THE LOVER.
1 I see there is no sort
Of things that live in grief,
Which at sometime may not resort
Where as they have relief.