GOOD FAVOUR

YEt let me plead, my cause before my Queen As thou hast done, and sentence after crave, Then shall the truth, of our two be seen, I crave no spoil, but wish the thing I have. Why should my beauty, purchase my Why should my praise, become Why should Dame Nature's gifts be thought so bass, Which heretofore have been in greater name? Who ever could, enforce the Gods with might, To yield themselves, as conqured with his strength? Yet Beauty hath, subdued them with his sighed, And made them end, and bow to him at length. Whom force subdues, with sad unwilling heart, Submittes themselves, and grieve at every strok : Who beauty wins, and gains unto his partly, They gladly grant, to take the pleasant yoke. Thy strength thou mayest, full many a Winter idem, Till time does serve, to show the same in place, Sweet Beauty can, no moment be unspied, But does delight, each one with gladsome grace. Dame Nature's show, and Riches Beauty is, A Heavenly gift, to ravish every eye, A perfect Pear e, wherein is nought but bliss, Delight of men, delight of Gods on high. Apollo pleased, himself with Golden hear, H a e delights, the Gods with comely we, God Venus oft, his tender breast did tear, When she Ado I death was fain to . P bus did mourn, when his delight was slain, With great mishap, and error of his hand, But Gannimed, above with Jove does reign. And waiting on, his Nectars cup does stand. What should I speak, of him who at the brook, The wanton Nymph's, in love supprisd away, Or him whom Ph eb, in to his Chariot took, Or him, whose beauty di worser the morning gray, The Gods in beauty, pass each mortal wight, And men surmount, in form the fairest beast, And yet of them, some are more brave in sighed, Whose nature's are, more fined than the rest. The ugly Toad, swell out his poison cold, A crabbed corpse, comes of a churlish kind, No ragged mould, the virtue rare can hold, A seemly face, declares a modest mind. The fairest Horse will swiftest run his raze, The gallantest Hound, will soonest wind his game, What need I more, to treat upon this case, The hearers shall, be judgers of the same, If Beauty's gifts, and favour you exile, Then Manhood must, be here preferred the while. THough I speak last, that first found special grace, In foremost ight, look you for tender years, And judge him not, a Milkesoppe by his face, That stoutly Like a Man at need appears. Great scorn I think, good Fortune should have all, And reap the right, that labour long hath sown, Yea, Favour hath perhaps more friends at call, Than you would think, or to the world is known.