Those haires of Angels gold, thy natures treasure
(For thou by nature Angellike art framed)
Those louely browes, broade bridges of sweet pleasure,
Arche two cleare springs of graces gratious named,
There graces infinite do bathe, and sporte:
Vnder on both sides, those two pretious hilles
Where Phoeb'e, and Venus haue a seuerall forte:
Her couche with snowie lillyes Phoebe filles,
But Venus with redde Roses her's adorneth,
There they with silent tokens doe dispute:
Whilst Phoebe Venus, Venus Phoebe scorneth,
And all the graces Iudgers there sit mute
To giue their verdict, till great Ioue said this,
Dianaes arrowes wounde not like thy kisse.