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XXXVII.
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active
child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's
dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and
truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy
parts do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to
this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor
despised,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance
give
That I in thy abundance am sufficed
And by a
part of all thy glory live.
Look, what is best, that
best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times
happy me!
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