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To Sir H.W. at his going Ambassa- |
dor to Venice. |
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After those reverend papers, whose soule is |
Our good and great Kings lov'd hand and fear'd name, |
By which to you he derives much of his, |
And (how he may) makes you almost the same, |
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A Taper of his Torch, a copie writ |
From his Originall, and a faire beame |
Of the same warme, and dazeling Sun, though it |
Must in another Sphere his vertue streame: |
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After those learned papers which your hand |
Hath stor'd with notes of use and pleasures too, |
From which rich treasury you may command |
Fit matter whether you will write or doe: |
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After those loving papers, where friends send |
With glad griefe, to your Sea-ward steps, farewel, |
Which thicken on you now, as prayers ascend |
To heaven in troupes at'a good mans passing bell: |
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Admit this honest paper, and allow |
It such an audience as your selfe would aske; |
What you must say at Venice this meanes now, |
And hath for nature, what you have for taske.
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[CW: To] |