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To Sir H.W. at his going Ambassa-
dor to Venice.
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,
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:
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:
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:
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.

[CW: To]