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A Letter to the Lady Carey, & Mris Essex Riche,
From Amyens.
MADAME,
Here where by All All Saints invoked are,
'Twere too much schisme to be singular,
And 'gainst a practice generall to warre.
Yet turning to Saincts, should my'humilitie
To other Sainct than 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 to 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 are a firmament
Of virtues, where no one is growne, or spent,
They'are your materials, not your ornament.
Others whom we call vertuous, are not so
In their whole substance, but, their vertues grow
But in their humours, and at seasons show.

[CW: For]