|
| 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.| |