home | index | concordance | composite list of variants | help |
To Mr C. B.|
Thou, wch art I, (tis nothing to be so), [f. 24]
Thou wch art still thy selfe, by these shalt know
Part of or passage; and a hand or ey
By Hilliard drawne, is worth a history
By a worse painter made; And wthout pryde
When by thy iudgment they are dignifyde
My Lines are such; tis the preheminence
Of frindship only to'impute excellence.
England, to'whom we owe, what we be & haue
Sad, yt her Sonnes did seeke a forreigne graue
(for Fates or Fortunes drifts none can soothsay
Honor & Misery haue one face & way)
From out her pregnant intralls sigh'd a wind
wch at th'aires middle marble roome did find
Such Strong resistance, yt it selfe it threw
Downward agayne; & so when it did view
How in ye Port or fleete deare time did lese
Withering Like prisoners wch ly but for fees,
Mildly it kist or Sayles; & fresh & sweete
As to a Stomack stervd, whose insides meete
Meat comes, is come; & swole or Sayles, when wee
So ioyd, as Sara her swelling ioy'd to see.
But t'was but so kind as or Cuntrymen
wch bring frinds one days way, & leaue thē then.
Then, Like two mighty kings, wch dwelling farr
asunder, meete against a third to warr
The South, & West winds ioyn'd; & as they blew
Waues like a rolling trench before them threw.
Sooner then you read this Line, did ye gale
Like Shott, not feard till felt, or Sayles assayle.
And what at first was call'd a Gust, ye same
Hath now a Stormes, anon a Tempests name.
Ionas I pitty thee, & curse those men
Who when the Storme rag'd most, did wake thee then.
Sleepe is paynes easiest salue, and doth fullfill
All Offices of death, except to kill.