Galatea

Nor is he foul or shapeless as you say, Or worse; for that he clownish seems to be, Rough, satyr-like, the better he will play, And manly looks the fitter are for me. His frowning smiles are graced by his beard, His eye-light, sun-like, shrouded is in one. This me contents, and others make afeard. He sees enough, and therefore wanteth none.