Classic Poem

That which so much the doating world doth prise,
Fond ladies' only care and sole delight,
Soone-fading beautie, which of hues doth rise,
Is but an abject let of nature's might:
Most woefull wretch, whom shining haire and eyes
Leade to loue's dungeon, traitor'd by a sight
Most woefull; for hee might with greater ease
Hell's portalls enter, and pale death appease.

As in delicious meads beneath the flowres,
And the most wholsome herbes that May can show,
In christall curles the speckled serpent lowres;
As in the apple, which most faire doth grow,
The rotten worme is clos'd, which it deuoures;
As in gilt cups with Gnossian wine which flow,
Oft poyson pompously doth hide its sowres;
So lewdnesse, falshood, mischiefe them aduance,
Clad with the pleasant rayes of beautie's glance.

Good thence is chas'd, where beautie doth appeare,
Milde lowlinesse with pittie from it flie;
Where beautie raignes as in their proper spheare,
Ingratitude, disdaine, pride, all descrie
The flowre and fruit which vertue's tree should beare,
With her bad shadowe beautie maketh die:
Beautie a monster is, a monster hurld
From angrie heauen, to scourge this lower world.

As fruits which are vnripe, and sowre of taste,
To bee confect'd more fit than sweet wee proue,
For sweet in spight of care themselues will waste,
When they, long kept, the appetite doe moue;
So in the sweetnesse of his nectare, loue
The foule confects, and seasons for his feaste:
Sowre is farre better which wee sweet may make,
Than sweet which sweeter sweetnesse will not take.

Foule may my ladie bee, and may her nose,
A Tanarife, giue vmbrage to her chinne;
May her gay mouth, which shee no time may close,
So wide be, that the moone may turne therein;
May eyes and teeth bee made conforme to those,
Eyes set by chance, and white, teeth blacke and thinne:
May all what seene is, and is hidde from sight,
Like vnto these rare parts bee framed right.

I shall not feare thus though shee straye alone,
That others her pursue, entice, admire,
And though shee sometime counterfaite a grone,
I shall not thinke her heart feeles vncouth fire,
I shall not stile her ruethlesse to my mone,
Nor prowde, disdainfull, wayward to desire:
Her thoughts with mine will hold an equall line,
I shall bee hers, and shee shall all bee mine.