What Say You To A Piece Of

There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings.

Not Stepping Over The Bounds Of Modesty.

Take No Repulse, Whatever She Doth Say; For 'get You Gone,' She Doth Not Mean 'away.' Flatter And Praise, Commend, Extol Their Graces; Though Ne'er So Black, Say They Have Angels' Faces

Some Glory In Their Birth , Some In Their Skill , Some In Their Wealth , Some In Their Bodies' Force , Some In Their Garments, Though New-fangled Ill; Some In Their Hawks And Hounds , Some In Their Horse ; And Every Humor Hath His Adjunct Pleasure , Wherein It Finds A Joy Above The Rest .

What Power Is It Which Mounts My Love So High, That Makes Me See, And Cannot Feed Mine Eye