A conceited fancy

PVRE colours can abide no staine:
The sunne can neuer lose his light:
And vertue hath a heauenly vaine,
That well may claime a queenely right:
So, giue my mistresse but her due,
Who tolde mee all these tales of you.

From heauen on earth, the Sunne doth shine,
From vertue comes discretions loue:
They both are in themselues diuine;
Yet worke for weaker hearts behoue▪
So, would my mistresse had her due,
To tell mee still these tales of you.

But, oh, the Sunne is in a clowde,
And vertue liues in sweetes vnseene:
The earth with heauen is not allow'd,
A begger must not loue a Queene:
So must my mistresse haue her due,
To tell mee still these tales of you.

Then shine faire Sunne, when clouds are gon:
Liue vertue in thy queenely loue:
Choose some such place to shine vpon,
As may thy Paradise approue;
That, when my mistresse hath her due,
I may heare all this heauen in you.