"If Hercules tall stature might bee guest But by his thumbe, wherby to make the rest In due proportion; the best rule that I Would choose to measure Venus’ beauty by Should bee her legg and foot. If husbandmen Measure theyr timber by the foot, why then Not we our wives? Whether wee goe or stride Those native compasses are seldome wide Of telling true: the round and slender foot Is a sure index, and a secrett note Of hidden parts; and well this way may lead Unto the closett of a maydenheade: Here, Emblemes of our youth, we roses tye, And here the garter, love’s deare mystery: For want of beauty here the peacock’s pride Letts fall her trayne, and fearing to bee spide Shutts upp her paynted witnesses to lett Those eyes from view which are but counterfett. Who looks not if this part be good or evill May meet with cloven feet and match the divell, For this doth make the difference betweene The more unhallowed creatures and the cleane, Well may you judge her other stepps are lighte, Her thoughts awry that doth not tread aright: But then there’s true perfection when wee see Those parts more absolute that hidden bee: Nature nere layd a fayre foundation For an unworthy frame to rest upon. Lett others view the topp and limbes throughout, The deeper knowledge is to know the roote: And reading of the face the weakest know, What beauty is; the learned looke below; Who, looking there, doe all the rest, descrie As in a poole the moon we use to spie: Pardon (sweetehart) the pride of my desire If but to kisse your toe it should aspire."