Right diamonds are of a russet hieu, The brightsome carbuncles are red to see too; The saphyre stone is of a watchet blue, To this thou canst not chuse but soone agree to: Pearles are not white but gray, rubies are red: In praise of blacke what can be better sed? For if we doo consider of each mortall thing That flyes in welkin, or in water swims, How everie thing increaseth with the spring, And how the blacker still the brighter dims: We cannot chuse, but needs we must confesse, Sable excels milk-white in more or lesse. As for example, in the christall cleare Of a sweete streame, or pleasant running river, Where thousand formes of fishes will appeare, Whose names to thee I cannot now deliver; The blacker still the brighter have disgrac'd, For pleasant profit and delicious taste. Salmon and trout are of a ruddie colour, Whiting and dare is of a milk-white hiew; Nature by them perhaps is made the fuller, Little they nowrish, be they old or new: Carp, loach, tench, eeles, though black and bred in mud, Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blud. Innumerable be the kindes, if I could name them, But I a shepheard and no fisher am: Little it skils whether I praise or blame them, I onely meddle with my ew and lamb: Yet this I say that blacke the better is, In birds, beasts, frute, stones, flowres, herbs, mettals, fish. And last of all, in blacke there doth appeare Such qualities as not in yvorie; Black cannot blush for shame, looke pale for feare, Scorning to weare another livorie. Blacke is the badge of sober modestie, The wonted weare of ancient gravetie. The learned sisters sute themselves in blacke, Learning abandons white and lighter hues; Pleasure and pride light colours never lacke, But true religion doth such toyes refuse: Vertue and gravity are sisters growne, Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne. White is the colour of each paltry miller, White is the ensigne of each common woman; White is white vertues for blacke vyces piller, White makes proud fooles inferiour unto no man: White is the white of body, blacke of minde, Vertue we seldome in white habit finde. Oh, then be not so proud because th' art fayre, Vertue is onely the ritch gift of God: Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre, Beate not greene youth with sharpe repentance rod: A fiend, a monster, a mishapen divel; Vertues foe, vyces friend, the roote of evill. Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man; Avoyd ill company, the spoyle of youth; To follow vertues lore doo what thou can, Whereby great profit unto the ensuth: Reade bookes, hate ignorance, the foe to art, The damme of errour, envy of the hart.