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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 despis'd,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give

That I in thy abundance am suffic'd,
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!