Puttenham, with his versifying pen, has drawn a portrait of Queen Elizabeth; and as she was, in her estimation, as beautiful as her ill-fated rival, Mary Queen of Scots, and as the poet was upon Elizabeth's pension list, he, doubtless, held up a deceitful mirror, and forbore to give the least inuendo whether her charms were natural or artificial. — This specimen will suffice.
Two lips wrought out of rubie rocke,
Like leaves to shut and to unlock,
As portall door in prince's chamber,
A golden tongue in mouth of amber,
Her bosom, sleek as Paris plaster,
Held up two balls of alabaster.