Rudely thous wrongest my deare harts desire,
     In finding fault with her too portly pride:
     the thing which I doo most in her admire
     is of the world unworthy most envide.
For in those lofty lookes is close implide,
     scorn of base things, and sdeigne of foule dishonor:
     thretning rash eies which gaze on her so wide,
     that loosely they ne dare to looke upon her.
Such pride is praise, such portlinesse is honor,
     that boldned innocence beares in hir eies:
     and her faire countenance like a goodly banner,
     spreads in defiaunce of all enemies.
Was never in this world ought worthy tride
     without some spark of such self-pleasing pride.