Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind Which of their praises have left you the haire; To you this humble present I prepare, For love of vertue and of Martial praise; In which trew honor yee may fashiond see, E. S. To the right honourable the Lord of Hunsdon, high Chamberlaine to her Majesty. RENOWMED Lord, that, for your worthinesse And noble deeds, have your deserved place High in the favour of that Emperesse, And their disloiall powre defaced clene, Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse, E. S. To the right honourable the Lord of Buckhurst, one of her Majesties privie Counsell. IN vain I thinke, right honourable Lord, By this rude rime to memorize thy name, Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record In loftie numbers and heroicke stile. But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine To the right honourable Sir Fr. Walsingham, knight, principall Secretary to her Majesty, and one of her honourable privy Counsell. THAT Mantuane Poets incompared spirit, Whose girland now is set in highest place, Had not Mecænas, for his worthy merit, It first advaunst to great Augustus grace, Might long perhaps have lien in silence bace, Ne bene so much admir'd of later age. This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace, Flies for like aide unto your Patronage, That are the great Mecenas of this age, As wel to al that civil artes professe, As those that are inspir'd with Martial rage, And craves protection of her feeblenesse : Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse. E. S. To the right noble Lord and most valiaunt Captaine, Sir John Norris, knight, Lord president of Mounster. HO ever gave more honourable prize WHO To the sweet Muse then did the Martiall crew, That their brave deeds she might immortalise In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew? Who then ought more to favour her then you, Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age, Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile; Sith, then, each where thou hast dispredd thy fame, E. S. To the right honourable and most vertuous Lady REMEMBRANCE of that most Heroicke spirit, The hevens pride, the glory of our daies, Which now triumpheth, through immortall merit Of his brave vertues, crown'd with lasting baies Of hevenlie blis and everlasting praies; Who first my Muse did lift out of the flore, His goodly image, living evermore In the divine resemblaunce of your face; For his, and for your owne especial sake, Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth to take. E. S To the most vertuous and beautifull Lady, the Lady Carew. NE may I, without blot of endlesse blame, You, fairest Lady, leave out of this place; But with remembraunce of your gracious name, Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye grace And deck the world, adorne these verses base. For thereunto doth need a golden quill, E. S. To all the gratious and beautifull Ladies in the Court. THE Chian Peincter, when he was requirde To pourtraict Venus in her perfect hew, To make his worke more absolute, desird Of all the fairest Maides to have the vew. Much more me needs, to draw the semblant trew Of beauties Queene, the worlds sole wonderment, To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties vew, And steale from each some part of ornament. If all the world to seeke I overwent, A fairer crew yet no where could I see Then that brave court doth to mine eie present; That the worlds pride seemes gathered there to bee. Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte: Forgive it me, faire Dames, sith lesse ye have not lefte. E. S. As time her taught, in lowly Shephards weeds, Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske, For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds, And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds; Whose praises having slept in silence long, Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds To blazon broade emongst her learned throng: Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song. 2 Helpe then, O holy virgin! chiefe of nyne, O, helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong! |