Astrophel and Stella: 35

What may words say, or what may words not say,Where trueth itselfe must speake like flatterie?Within what bounds can one his liking stay,Where Nature doth with infinite agree?What Nestors counsell can my flames alay,Since Reason selfe doth blow the cole in me?And ah what hope, that hope should once see day,Where Cupid is sworne page to Chastity?Honour is honour'd, that thou doest possesseHim as thy slaue, and how long needy FameDoth euen grow rich, naming my Stellas name.Wit learnes in thee perfection to expresse,Not thou by praise, but praise in thee is rais'de:It is a praise to praise, when thou art prais'de.