There is none, O none but you,
    That from mee estrange your sight,
Whom mine eyes affect to view
    Or chained eares heare with delight.

Other beauties others moue,
    In you I all graces find ;
Such is the effect of loue,
    To make them happy that are kinde.

Women in fraile beauty trust,
    Onely seeme you faire to mee ;
Yet proue truely kinde and iust,
    For that may not dissembled be.

Sweet, afford me then your sight,
    That, suruaying all your lookes,
Endlesse volumes I may write
    And fill the world with enuyed bookes :

Which when after ages view,
    All shall wonder and despaire,
Woman to finde man so true,
    Or man a woman halfe so faire.