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I never saw that you did painting need
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself being extant well might show
How 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 eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise. 我从不觉得你需要涂脂荡粉，
因而从不用脂粉涂你的朱颜；
我发觉，或以为发觉，你的丰韵
远超过诗人献你的无味缱绻：
因此，关于你我的歌只装打盹，
好让你自己生动地现身说法，
证明时下的文笔是多么粗笨，
想把美德，你身上的美德增华。
你把我这沉默认为我的罪行，
其实却应该是我最大的荣光；
因为我不作声于美丝毫无损，
别人想给你生命，反把你埋葬。
你的两位诗人所模拟的赞美，
远不如你一只慧眼所藏的光辉。 | 
