Geue Place Ye Louers, Here Before

Geue place ye louers, here before 

That spent your bostes and bragges in vaine: 

My Ladies beawtie passeth more 

The best of yours, I dare well sayen, 

Than doth the sonne, the candle light: 

Or brightest day, the darkest night. 

And thereto hath a trothe as iust, 

As had Penelope the fayre. 

For what she saith, ye may it trust, 

As it by writing sealed were. 

And vertues hath she many moe, 

Than I with pen haue skill to showe. 

I coulde rehearse, if that I wolde, 

The whole effect of natures plaint, 

When she had lost the perfit mold, 

The like to whom she could not paint: 

With wringyng handes howe she dyd cry, 

And what she said, I know it, I. 

I knowe, she swore with ragyng mynd: 

Her kingdom onely set apart, 

There was no losse, by lawe of kind, 

That could haue gone so nere her hart. 

And this was chiefly all her payne: 

She coulde not make the lyke agayne. 

Sith nature thus gaue her the prayse, 

To be the chiefest worke she wrought: 

In faith, me thinke, some better waies 

On your behalfe might well be sought, 

Then to compare (as ye haue done) 

To matche the candle with the sonne.