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LETTERS
TO SEVERALL
Personages.
THE STORME.
To Mr Christopher Brooke, from the Island voy-
age with the Earle of Essex.
Thou which art I, ('tis nothing to be so)
Thou which art still thy selfe, by this shalt know
Part of our passage; And, a hand, or eye
By Hilliard drawne, is worth a Historie,
By a worse painter made; and (without pride)
When by thy judgement they are dignifi'd,
My Lines are such. 'Tis the preheminence
Of friendship onely to'impute excellence.
England, to whom we'owe, what we be, and have,
Sad that her sonnes did seeke a forraine grave
(For, Fates, or Fortunes drifts none can southsay,
Honour and misery have one face one* way.
From out her pregnant intrailes sigh'd a winde
Which at th'ayres middle marble roome did finde
Such stronge resistance, that it selfe it threw
Downward againe; and so when it did view

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