Xviii

My love, I cannot thy rare beauties place Under those forms which many writers use: Some like to stones compare their mistress' face; Some in the name of flowers do love abuse; Some makes their love a goldsmith's shop to be, Where orient pearls and precious stones abound; In my conceit these far do disagree The perfect praise of beauty forth to sound. O Chloris, thou dost imitate thyself, Self's imitating passeth precious stones, Or all the eastern Indian golden pelf; Thy red and white with purest fair atones; Matchless for beauty nature hath thee framed, Only unkind and cruel thou art named!