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A Letter to the Lady Carey, and Mrs Essex Riche,
From Amyens.
Madame,
Here where by All All Saints invoked are,
'Twere too much schisme to be singular,
And 'gainst a practise generall to warre.
Yet turning to Saincts, should my'humility
To other Sainct then you directed bee,
That were to make my schisme, heresie.
Nor would I be a Convertite so cold,
As not to tell it; If this be too bold,
Pardons are in this market cheaply sold.
Where, because Faith is in too low degree,
I thought it some Apostleship in mee
To speake things which by faith alone I see.
That is, of you, who is a firmament
Of virtues, where no one is growne, or spent,
They'are your materials, not your ornament.
Others whom wee call vertuous, are not so
In their whole substance, but, their vertues grow
But in their humours, and at seasons show.

[CW: For]