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Hauing from these suckd, all, they had of worthe
And brought home that Faythe, wch you caryed forthe
I throughly Love. But if my selfe I'haue wonne
To know my Rules, I haue, & you haue
To M.r R. W.|
Like one who'in her third widowhed doth profes [f. 26v]
Her selfe a Nun, tir'd to a retirednes
So affects my Muse now a chast fallownes.
Since She to few, yet to to many hath showne
How Love song Weedes, & Satirique thornes are growne
where seedes of better arts weare early sowne.
Though to vse & Love poetry, to mee
Betroth'd to no one art be no adulteree,
Omissions of good, ill, as ill deedes bee.
for though to vs it seeme, & be light & thin,
Yet in those faythfull Scales wher God throwes in
Mens workes, Vanity ways as much as Sin.
If or Soules haue Staind their first whight, yet wee
May clothe them wt faythe & deare honestee,
Wch God imputes as native puritee.
Ther is no Vertue but Religione.
Wise, valiant, sober, iust, are names, wch none
Want, wch want not Vice-covring discretione.
Seeke we then or selues in or selues; for as
Men force ye Sun wth much more force to pas
By gathring his beams wth a Christall glas,