Of the Silke vnortnet 
No fpotte on them, as els on cu’ry fiye, 
Bycaufe in them no follies cuer grew, 
Nocrimfon reddedoth for reuengeraentcrye. 
No waueringwatchet, where ai harts be true:. 
No yellow, where there is no lealouftc: 
No labour loft, and therefore voide of blue: 
No peachy markc to fignifie difdainc. 
No grecnc to (hew a wanton mind and vaine. 
No orengc colour,wherc there wants defpight. 
No tawny laddc,whcrc none forfaken be: 
No murry,where they couet nought but light. 
No mourning black,whereal rcioyce with glee: 
In briefe,within,without,thcy are al white. 
Wearing alone the badge of chaftity: 
Bycaufe they onely keepe themfelues to one. 
Who being dead, another chufethey none. 
True Turtles mine, begotten with the breath. 
Not of a lewd lafciuious mortal I one-. (death, 
Whofe la we was luft, whofe life was worfe then 
Whofe ineefts did defile both wood and groue , 
But with the breath of him who vnderneath 
Rules StigUn king,and heau’nly hofts aboue, 
AfsiftmeifI errein fetting forth 
Your birth dayes ftory,and furpafsing worth . 
Affoone 
