The sunne my Ladies bewtie representes,
Whose fierie-pointed beames each creature heates
Such force her grace on whom it counterbeates
Doth practise, which the patient still tormentes:
And to her vertues the bright moone assentes,
With whose pure chastitie my loue she threates:
Whose thought it selfe in her coole circle seates,
And as the moone her bright habilimentes
Of her bright brother Phoebus borroweth,
So from her bewtie doth her chast desier
His brightnes draw, for which none dare aspier
To tempt so rare a bewtie, yet forgiue:
He that for thy sake so long sorroweth,
Can not but longer loue, if longer liue.