Go, ill-sped book, and whisper to her or 
storm out the message for her only ear 
that she is beautiful. 
Mention sunsets, be not silent of her eyes 
and mouth and other prospects, praise her size, 
say her figure is full. 

Say her small figure is heavenly & full, 
so as stunned Henry yatters like a fool 
& maketh little sense. 
Say she is soft in speech, stately in walking, 
modest at gatherings, and in every thing 
declare her excellence. 

Forget not, when the rest is wholly done 
and all of her splendors opened, one by one, 
to add that she likes Henry, 
for reasons unknown, and fate has bound them fast 
one to another in linkages that last 
and that are fair to see.