I never saw that you did painting need

I never saw that you did painting need
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt:
And therefore have I slept in your report
That you yourself, being extant, well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow
This silence for my sin you did impute
Which shall be most my glory being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute
When others would give life, and bring a tomb
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise