[MOTTO.] "This beauty, in the blossom of my youth, When my first fire knew no adulterate incense, Nor I no way to flatter but my fondness, In the best language my true tongue could tell me, And all the broken sighs my sick heart lend me, I sued and served.

Reader, I've done, nor longer will withhold Thy greedy eyes; looking on this pure gold Thou'lt know adulterate copper, which, like this, Will only serve to be a foil to his.

But the name And soule of friendship twixt us I had thought Would have retain'd this most unmanly rage Gainst me, for declaration of a truth By which you might be ransomed from the armes Of her adulterate honor.