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His Mistress.

As Phœbus doth excell the Moons dim light,
Or as the Moon excells the dullest Star,
Her Beauty, and Complexion in my sight
Excells all others I have seen, so far:
Her Sun-like beams of beauty shine so bright,
That others in her sight Eclipsed are
The fairest faces are but foiles, each one
Weares but a borrow'd lustre from her Sun.
Her Shape in Wax it were most hard to frame,
Nor Painters to expresse their rarest Skill
Could ever counterfeit so neer the same,
But blemish their's her better Beauty will;
Though Venus who for Beauty had the Name
Compare with her should, she'd be fairest still;
Paris gave her the Ball as beauties Queen,
But she had mist it had he mine but Seen.
Her Aubourn Hair in Crisped Curles doe dangle
Upon her Ivory shoulders, where it spreads
Sly nets, where Hearts themselves doe soon intangle,

And captive lye, enchain'd by those bright threads,
Spreading soft chaines, and snares in every angle,
It takes all Hearts, whose eye those mazes treads:
Hearts here imprison'd (never can get out)
Those soft Meandres wander must about.
Her Ivory-pollish'd Front with seemly cheere,
Grac'd at the bottom with a double bow,
Where all the Graces in their Throne appeare,
Where Love, and awfull Majesty doe grow,
Expands it self, and shews a feild more clear,
Than Candid Lillys, or the virgin snow;
Her Eyes like Suns shoot rayes more sharp than Darts,
Which wound all Flinty, Love-despising Hearts.
Those twinkling Stars, those sparkling Diamond stones,
Those glorious Suns, where dwells the Eastern Light,
Peirce with the vigor of their Charmes the bones
Of daring Him, who gains of them a sight;
Beholding Kills, yet he their losse bemones,
And 'd rather dye, than they shut live in Night.
Her Nose a comly Prominence, doth part
Her Cheeks, the mirrour of Dame Natures Art.
Her cheeks are damask Roses blown in June,
B'ing equally with Virgin Lillies mix't;
Or snowy milk with blushing Strawb'ries strewn,
Where equall strife the red, and white's betwixt;
Or pure ver million on white Sattin shewn,
By Painters rarest Skill, and pencil fix't:
Those cheeks no Colours livelest dye can paint,
Scarlet, and snow seem to their true ones faint.
Her lipps are snips of Scarlet, Juliflowers,

Spread with the tincture of Vermilion hew,
Bless'd in Self-kisses; past our humane powers
To touch; so high a bliss what Mortal knew?
Between those rubie Gates slide spicy showers,
Which, those slain by her eyes, with life imbue:
Angellick sounds, and charming smiles, so nice,
Thence flow which make her presence Paradice.
Within the portal of her Mouth's lock'd fast,
(Which when she sings she is enforc'd to show)
The Orient's Treasure in due order plac'd,
Of more than precious pearles a double row;
Which stand in Sea-born Coral borders chac'd,
Like Crimson Sattin purl'd with silver snow.
Her smooth, and dimpled Chin doth under lye,
Where envies self cannot a fault espie.
Her Neck's a gracefull Tower of spotlesse snow,
An Alablaster prop to that fair head,
Where Witt, Arts, Wisdome in perfection grow,
Its Basis where are beauties also spread;
For azure streams through milky feilds do flow,
Where blew, with white like Heav'n is married:
Her Breasts like lilly'd Globes, or Mounts appear,
VVhose summetts Crown'd with Crimson cheries are.
Her Arms due measure of proportion have,
Her hands the types of snowy Excellence
VVith Onyx tip'd; her leggs, and feet enslave
Our eyes, and Captive hold from falling thence:
Her whole frames equall Symetry is brave,
And to spectators payes a recompence:
Argus himself cannot discerne the rest,
But I presume the hidden beauties best.
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