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And I as giddie trauellours mvst doe, Which straie, or sleepe all daie, and hauing lost Light, and Strength, darke, and tird mvst then ride poste If thou vnto thy Muse bee maried, Embrace her ever, ever Multiplie; Bee farr from mee that strange Adulterie To tempt thee and procure her Widdow-hood My muse (for I had one) because I am cold Diuoucd her selfe; the cause beinge in mee That I can take no new in Bigamee Nott my will only, but power doth with hold, Hence comes itt, that these rimes which neuer had Mother, want matter; and they only haue A little forme, the which there father gaue. They are profane, imperfect, oh, too bad To bee counted children of Poetrye. Except confirmd, and Bishopped by thee.| Like one in her Widdowhood doth professe Her selfe A Nunne, tyrd to a retirednes; So affects my Muse now, a chast fallownes. Since shee to few, yett too many hath showne How loue song Weedes and laterique thornes are growne Where seedes of better Artes were early sowne. [CW: Though.=] |
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