I must complain, yet do enjoy, enjoy my love,
She is too fair, too rich in beauty`s parts
Thence is my grief for nature while she strove
With all her graces and divinest arts,
To form her too,...Read more

I must complain, yet do enjoy, enjoy my love,
She is too fair, too rich in beauty`s parts
Thence is my grief for nature while she strove
With all her graces and divinest arts,
To form her too, too beautiful of hue
She had no leisure, she had no leisure,
no leisure left to make her true.

Should I agrieved wish she were less, she were less fair,
that were repugnant to my own desires,
She is admired, new suitors still repair,
That kindles daily love`s forgetful fires,
Rest jealous thoughts, and thus resolve at last,
She hath more beauty, she hath more beauty,
more beauty than becomes the chaste.

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