1A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted,
2Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
3A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
4With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion:
5An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
6Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
7A man in hue all hues in his controlling,
8Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.
9And for a woman wert thou first created;
10Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
11And by addition me of thee defeated,
12By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
13But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,
14Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.