University of Virginia Library

II.

[Celmonde.]
Ah! Bertha, why did Nature frame thee fair?
Why art thou all that pencil can bewreene?
Why art thou not as coarse as others are?
But then—thy soul would through thy visage sheene,

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That shimmers on thy comely semlykeene,
Like nutbrown clouds, when by the sun made red,
Or scarlet, with choice linen cloth ywreene;
Such would thy sprite upon thy visage spread.
This day brave Ælla doth thine hand and heart
Claim as his own to be, which ne'er from his must part.