Sonnet 70

WHo will in fayrest booke of nature knowe,
How Vertue may best lodgde in Beautie bee,
Let him but learne of loue to read in thee
Stella those faire lines which true Beautie showe.
There shall he finde all vices ouerthrowe;
Not by rude force, but sweetest soueraigntie
Of reason, from whose light, the night birdes flie;
That inward Sunne in thine eyes shineth so.
And not content to be perfections heir,
Thy selfe dost striue all mindes that way to moue:
Who marking thee, which art indeede most faire,
See while thy beautie driues my hart to loue,
As fast thy vertue bends that loue to good:
But ah, Desire still cries, giue me some food.