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| A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, | 1 |
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| Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; |
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| A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted |
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| With shifting change, as is false women's fashion: |
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| An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, | 5 |
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| Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; |
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| A man in hue all 'hues' in his controlling, |
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| Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. |
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| And for a woman wert thou first created; |
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| Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, | 10 |
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| And by addition me of thee defeated, |
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| By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. |
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 But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, |
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| Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. |
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