Goe you, my lynes, Embassadours of loue,
With my harts tribute to her conquering eyes,
From whence, if you one tear of pitty moue
For all my woes, that onely shall suffise.
When you Minerua in the sunne behold,
At her perfections stand you then and gaze,
Where in the compasse of a Marygold,
Meridianis sits within a maze.
And let Inuention of her beauty vaunt
When Dorus sings his sweet Pamelas loue,
And tell the Gods, Mars is predominant,
Seated with Sol, and weares Mineruas gloue:
And tell the world, that in the world there is
A heauen on earth, on earth no heauen but this.