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.