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Poem	CLORIS, it is not thy disdaine Can ever cover with dispaire Or in cold ashes hide that care Which I have fedd with soe long paine, I may perhaps myne eyes refraine 5 And fruiteless wordes noe more impart, But yet still serve, still serve thee in my hearte. What though I spend my haplesse dayes In finding entertainements out, Carelesse of what I goe about, 10 Or seeke my peace in skillfull wayes Applying to my Eyes new rays Of Beauty, and another flame Unto my Heart, my heart is still the same. Tis true that I could love noe face 15 Inhabited by cold disdayne, Taking delight in others paine. Thy lookes are full of native grace; Since then by chance scorne there hath place, Tis to be hop't I may remove 20 This scorne one day, one day by Endless Love.
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