1 Why presumes thy pride on that that must so priuate be ? Scarce that it can good be cal'd, though it seemes best to thee. Best of all that Nature fram'd, or curious eye can see. 2 Tis thy beauty, foolish Maid, that like a blossome growes, Which who viewes no more enioyes then on a bush a Rose, That by manies handling fades; and thou art one of those. 3 If to one thou shalt proue true, and all beside reiect, Then art thou but one mans good, which yeelds a poore effect ; For the common'st good by farre deserues the best respect. 4 But if for this goodnesse thou thy selfe wilt common make, Thou art then not good at all; so thou canst no way take But to proue the meanst good, or else all good forsake. 5 Be not then of beauty proud, but so her colours beare, That they proue not staines to her that them for grace should weare ; So shalt thou to all more fayre then thou were borne appeare.
Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer