The Earl of Surrey, that renowned Lord,
  Th’old English Glory bravely that restor’d,
  That Prince and Poet (a Name more divine)
  Falling in Love with Beauteous Geraldine,
  Of the Geraldi, which derive their Name
  From Florence; whether to advance her Fame,
  He travels, and in publick Justs maintain’d
  Her Beauty peerless, which by Arms he gain’d.

In his way to Florence, he touch’d at the Emperor’s Court; where he fell in acquaintance with the great Learned Cornelius Agrippa, so famous for Magick, who shewed him the Image of his Geraldine in a Glass, sick, weeping on her Bed, and resolved all into devout Religion for the absence of her Lord; upon sight of which, he made this Sonnet.

  All Soul, no earthly Flesh, why dost thou fade? 
  All Gold, no earthly Dross, why look’st thou pale? 
  Sickness, how dar’st thou one so fair invade? 
  Too base Infirmity to work her Bale. 
    Heaven be distempered since she grieved pines,
    Never be dry these my sad plantive Lines.

  Pearch thou my Spirit on her Silver Breasts,
  And with their pains redoubled Musick beatings,
  Let them toss thee to world where all toil rests,
  Where Bliss is subject to no Fear’s defeatings;
    Her Praise I tune whose Tongue doth tune the Sphears,
    And gets new Muses in her Hearers Ears.

  Stars fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes,
  Her bright Brow drives the Sun to Clouds beneath. 
  Her Hairs reflex with red strakes paints the Skies,
  Sweet Morn and Evening dew flows from her breath: 
    Phoebe rules Tides, she my Tears tides forth draws,
    In her sick-Bed Love sits, and maketh Laws.

  Her dainty Limbs tinsel her Silk soft Sheets,
  Her Rose-crown’d Cheeks eclipse my dazled sight. 
  O Glass! with too much joy my thoughts thou greets,
  And yet thou shew’st me day but by twilight. 
    Ile kiss thee for the kindness I have felt,
    Her Lips one Kiss would unto Nectar melt.

From the Emperor’s Court he went to the City of Florence, the Pride and Glory of Italy, in which City his Geraldine was born, never ceasing till he came to the House of her Nativity; and being shewn the Chamber her clear Sun-beams first thrust themselves in this cloud of Flesh, he was transported with an Extasie of Joy, his Mouth overflow’d with Magnificats, his Tongue thrust the Stars out of Heaven, and eclipsed the Sun and Moon with Comparisons of his Geraldine, and in praise of the Chamber that was so illuminatively honoured with her Radiant Conception, he penned this Sonnet: