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| O! how I faint when I of you do write, | 1 |
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| Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, |
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| And in the praise thereof spends all his might, |
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| To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame! |
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| But since your worth—wide as the ocean is,— | 5 |
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| The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, |
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| My saucy bark, inferior far to his, |
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| On your broad main doth wilfully appear. |
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| Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, |
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| Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; | 10 |
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| Or, being wrack'd, I am a worthless boat, |
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| He of tall building, and of goodly pride: |
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 Then if he thrive and I be cast away, |
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| The worst was this,—my love was my decay. |
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