"Love, the delight of all well-thinking minds; Delight, the fruit of vertue dearely lov'd; Vertue, the highest good, that reason finds; Reason, the fire wherein mens thoughts bee prov'd; Are from the world by Natures power bereft, And in one creature, for her glory, left.Beautie, her cover is, the eyes true pleasure; In honours fame she lives, the eares sweet musicke, Excesse of wonder growes from her true measure; Her worth is passions wound, and passions physicke, From her true heart, cleare springs of wisdome flow, Which imag'd in her words and deeds, men know.Time faine would stay, that she might never leave her, Place doth rejoyce, that she must needs containe her, Death craves of Heaven, that she may not bereave her, The Heavens know their owne, and doe maintaine her, Delight, Love, Reason, Vertue let it be, To set all women light, but only she."