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To L. of D.|
See, Sr, how as the suns hott masculine flame [f. 28v]
Begetts strange creatures on Niles durty slime
In me your fatherly yet Lusty rime
(for these Songs are the fruit) haue wrought the same.
But though th'engendring force frō whence they came
Be strong inough, and nature do admit
Seauen to be borne at one, I send as yet
But six, they say the seventh hath still some maime.
I chose your iudgment, wch the same degree
Doth wth her Sister your invention hold
As fyer these drossy rimes to purifee
Or as Elixar to change them to gold.
You are that Alchimist wch allways had
Witt, whose one sparke could make good things of bad.
To Mr T. W.|
Pregnant agayne wt th'old twins Hope & Feare
Ofte haue I askt for thee, both how & where
Thou wert, and what my hopes of Letters were.
As in ye Streets sly beggers narrowly
Marke motions of the giuers hand & ey
and euer more conceaue some hope therby.
And now thyne alms is giuen, thy Letters red
the body risen agayne, the wch was dead
and thy poore sterveling bountifully fed.
After this banquet my Soule doth say Grace
and prayse thee for'it, & zealously embrace
thy Love, though I thincke thy Love in this case
To be as gluttons wch say midst ther meate
They Love yt best of wch they most do eate.|