When I beeheld the Image of my deere
With greedy lookes mine eyes would that way bend,
fear, and desire did inwardly contend;
Feare to bee mark’d, desire to drawe still neere,
And in my soule a speritt wowld apeer,
Which boldnes waranted, and did pretend
To bee my genius, yett I durst nott lend
My eyes in trust wher others seemed soe cleere,
Then did I search from whence this danger ’rose,
If such unworthynes in mee did rest
As my sterv’d eyes must nott with sight bee blest;
When jealousie her poyson did disclose;
Yett in my hart unseense of jealous eye
The truer Image shall in triumph lye.
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