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.