| O! HOW I faint when I of you do write | |
| Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, | |
| And in the praise thereof spends all his might, | |
| To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! | |
| But since your worth—wide as the ocean is,— | 5 |
| The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, | |
| My saucy bark, inferior far to his, | |
| On your broad main doth wilfully appear. | |
| Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, | |
| Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; | 10 |
| Or, being wrack’d, I am a worthless boat, | |
| He of tall building and of goodly pride: | |
| Then if he thrive and I be cast away, | |
| The worst was this;—my love was my decay. |