Page 2028 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

82 IT

I grant thou wert not married to my muse,

And therefore mayst without attaint o’er-look
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,

Finding thy worth a limit past my praise;
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days.
And do so, love; yet when they have devised

What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend,
Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathised
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend.
And their gross painting might be better used

Where cheeks need blood: in thee it is abused.