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WHen I behold
that beauties wonderment,
And rare perfection of
each goodly part;
of natures skill the only
complement,
I honor and admire the makers art.
But when I feele the bitter balefull smart,
which
her fayre eyes vnwares doe worke in mee:
that death
out of theyr shiny beames doe dart,
I thinke that I
a new Pandora see.
Whom all the Gods in councell did
agree,
into this sinfull world from heauen to send:
that she to wicked men a scourge should bee,
for
all their faults with which they did offend,
But
since ye are my scourge I will intreat,
that for my
faults ye will me gently beat.
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