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To the C. of D.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


55

To the C. of D.

1

Since in your face, as in a beauteous sphere,
Delight and state so sweetly mix'd appear,
That Love's not light, nor Gravity severe,
All your attractive Graces seem to draw.
A modest rigor keepeth so in aw,
That in their turns each of them gives the law.

2

Therefore though chast and vertuous desire
Through that your native mildness may aspire,
Untill a just regard it doth acquire;
Yet if Love thence a forward hope project,
You can, by vertue of a sweet neglect,
Convert it streight to reverend respect.

3

Thus, as in your rare temper, we may find
An excellence so perfect in each kind,
That a fair body hath a fairer mind;
So all the beams you diversly do dart,
As well on th' understanding as the heart,
Of love and honour equal cause impart.