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In eche of her two cristall eyes, (10) Smileth a naked boye: It would you all in hart suffice To see that lampe of ioye. I thinke nature hath lost the moulde, +Where she her shape did take: (15) Or els I doubt if nature could, So faire a creature make. She may be well comparde Unto the Phenix kinde: Whose like was neuer sene nor heard, (20) That any man can finde. In life she is Diana chast, In trouth Penelopey : In word and eke in dede stedfast, What wil you more we sey. (25) If all the world were sought so farre, Who could finde such a wight: Her beuty twinkleth like a starre, Within the frosty night. Her rosiall colour comes and goes, (30) With such a comely grace: More redier to then doth the rose, Within her liuely face. At Bacchus feast none shall her mete, Ne at no wanton play: (35) Nor gasyng in an open strete, Nor gadding as a stray. The modest mirth that she doth vse, Is mixt with shamefastnesse: All vice she doth wholy refuse, (40) And hateth ydlenesse. O lord it is a world to see, How vertue can repaire: And decke in her such honestie, Whom nature made so faire. (45) Truely she doth as farre excede, Our women now adayes: As doth the Ielifloure, a wede, And more a thousand waies. How might I do to get a graffe: (50) Of this vnspotted tree.