A
woman's face with nature's own hand painted
Is thou the master, mistress of my passion?
A woman's gentle heart but not acquainted
With shifting change as is false woman's fashion
There's a light more bright
than there's less false enrolling
Gilding the object whereupon it gazes
A man in hue,
all youth in his controlling
What steals men's eyes and women's souls amazes
And for a woman wert thou first created Till
nature as she wrought thee fell adored
And by addition me have thee defeated
By adding one thing
to my purple
But
since she pricked thee out for woman's pleasure
Mine be thy love,
though thy love use
their treasure