Why did rich nature graces graunt to thee,
Since thou art such a niggard of thy grace?
Or how can graces in thy body bee
Where neither they, nor pittie finde a place?
Ah they bene handmaydes to thy bewties furie,
Making thy face to tyrannise on men.
Condemn'd before thy bewtie by loues Iurie,
And by thy frownes adiudg'd to sorrowes den.
Graunt me some grace, for thou with grace art wealthie
And kindely mayst afforde some gratious thing,
Mine hopes all as my minde weake and vnhealthie,
All her lookes gratious, yet no grace do bring
To me poore wretche, yet be the graces theare:
But I the furies in my brest doe beare.