Sola Bella che piace

'Tis but a folly to be nice
Sithence Liking sets on bewty price
And what we doe affect alone
Becomes to Each his Paragon
All Couler, shape and form we know
Improves to best to those think soe
And wher Esteem its Anker wetts
Ther grows true Pearle noe Counterfetts
Were she as crooked as a pin
And yet could Love it were noe sin
To love again for writers tel
That Love hath in't the Loadstons spell
Were she proportiand Like the Sphere
Noe limm or Joynt Irreguler
Yet to my fancy if she Jarr
I shall not sayle by such a Starr
Did she out vie the newborn day
Or th'richest Treasury of May
Soe that what Skies and Flowers put on
Guive place to her Complexion
I'le sooner deem a Black wench white
That's suting to my Appetite
Well in Conclusion hath she fayer
Or brown or Black or Goulden hayer
If one be Cupit struck — Venus is ther.