Vnto the boundles Ocean of thy beautie
Runs this poore riuer, charg’d with streames of zeale:
Returning thee the tribute of my dutie,
Which heere my loue, my youth, my playnts reueale.
Heere I vnclaspe the booke of my charg’d soule,
Where I haue cast th’accounts of all my care:
Heere haue I summ’d my sighes, heere I enroule
Howe they were spent for thee; Looke what they are.
Looke on the deere expences of my youth,
And see how iust I reckon with thyne eyes:
Examine well thy beautie with my trueth,
And crosse my cares ere greater summes arise.
Reade it sweet maide, though it be doone but slightly;
Who can shewe all his loue, doth loue but lightly.