Sonnet 83
I never saw that you did painting need,And therefore to your fair no painting set;I found, or thought I found, you did exceedThe barren tender of a poet's debt:
And therefore have I slept in your report,That you yourself, being extant, well might showHow far a modern quill doth come too short,Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,Which shall be most my glory being dumb;For I impair not beauty being mute,When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyesThan both your poets can in praise devise.