Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 74

THy Beauties blush, like fairest Morne in Maie,
(FaireHonied Sweet) doth so intrance mine Eies
That while thou dost those Roses rich display
They see Heau'ns hue through thy skins Christal skies,
And did my fault nor thine enforce the same
I stil could wish to see that Heau'nly Blush:
Yea, I would see that glory to my shame,
So that my faces shame would cause that flush.
Then blame me not if (when thy Cheeks I see
Died in a Tincture that is so diuine)
My Cheeks in elfsame Colour Dyed be
To make thine spread their Dy, by dying mine:
Then, blush thou not, for blushing in this wise
Sith that Hue from, and for thy grace doth rise.