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!