Sonnet 22

IN highest way of heauen the Sunne did ride,
Progressing from fayre Twynns in golden place,
Hauing no maske of Clowdes before his face,
But streaming forth of his heate in chiefest pride,
When some faire Ladies by hard promise tyde,
On horsebacke met him in his furious race,
Yet each prepar'de with Fannes well shading grace,
From that foes wounds their tender skinnes to hide.
Stella alone, with face vnarmed marcht,
Either to doe like him, as carelesse showne:
Or carelesse of the welth, because her owne.
Yet were their hid and meaner beauties parcht,
Her daintiest bare went free; the cause was this,
The Sunne that others burnt, did her but kisse.