Florimel. _How in my thoughts should I contriue The Image I am framing, 300 Which is so farre superlatiue, As tis beyond all naming; I would _Ioue_ of my counsell make, And haue his judgement in it, But that I doubt he would mistake How rightly to begin it, It must be builded in the Ayre, And tis my thoughts must doo it, And onely they must be the stayre From earth to mount me to it, 310 For of my Sex I frame my Lay, Each houre, our selues forsaking, How should I then finde out the way To this my vndertaking, When our weake Fancies working still, Yet changing every minnit, Will shew that it requires some skill, Such difficulty's in it. We would things, yet we know not what, And let our will be granted, 320 Yet instantly we finde in that Something vnthought of wanted: Our ioyes and hopes such shadowes are, As with our motions varry, Which when we oft haue fetcht from farre, With us they neuer tarry: Some worldly crosse doth still attend, What long we haue in spinning, And e'r we fully get the end We lose of our beginning. 330 Our pollicies so peevish are, That with themselues they wrangle, And many times become the snare That soonest vs intangle; For that the Loue we beare our Friends Though nere so strongly grounded, Hath in it certaine oblique ends If to the bottome sounded: Our owne well wishing making it, A pardonable Treason; 340 For that is deriud from witt, And vnderpropt with reason. For our Deare selues beloued sake (Euen in the depth of passion) Our Center though our selues we make, Yet is not that our station; For whilst our Browes ambitious be And youth at hand awayts vs, It is a pretty thing to see How finely Beautie cheats vs, 350 And whilst with tyme we tryfling stand To practise Antique graces Age with a pale and withered hand Drawes Furowes in our faces._