Sonnet XX.
“A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted”
| A WOMAN’S face with Nature’s own hand painted | |
| Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; | |
| A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted | |
| With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion: | |
| An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, | 5 |
| Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; | |
| A man in hue all hues in his controlling, | |
| Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth. | |
| And for a woman wert thou first created; | |
| Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, | 10 |
| And by addition me of thee defeated, | |
| By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. | |
| But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure, | |
| Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure. |
