[To His Lady-Love.]

In this sweete booke, y^{e} treasury of witt, All virtues, beautyes, passions, written be: And with such life they are sett forth in it as still methinkes y^{t} which I read I see. But this booke's Mrs. is a liveing booke, Which hath indeed those vertues in her mynde, And in whose face though envey's selfe do looke, Even envye's eye shall all those beautyes fynd. Onely y^{e} passions y are printed here, In her calme thoughts can no impression make: She will not love, nor hate, nor hope, nor feare, Though others seeke theise passions for her sake. So in y^{e} sonne, some say there is no heate though his reflecting beames doe fire begett.