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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;
To which though nobly ye inclined are,
As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaies,
Yet brave ensample of long passed daies,

In which trew honor yee may fashiond see,
To like desire of honor may ye raise,
And fill your mind with magnanimitee.
Receive it, Lord, therefore, as it was ment,
For honor of your name and high descent.

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,
The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace;
Here eke of right have you a worthie place,
Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,
And for your owne high merit in like cace:
Of which, apparaunt proofe was to be seene,
When that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene
Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify,

And their disloiall powre defaced clene,
The record of enduring memory.

Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse,
That all posteritie thy honor may reherse.

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 golden verse, worthy immortal fame:
Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same)
Thy gracious Soverain praises to compile,
And her imperiall Majestie to frame

In loftie numbers and heroicke stile.
But, sith thou maist not so, give leave a while
To baser wit his power therein to spend,
Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file,
And unadvised oversights amend.

But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine
Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.

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


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,
And Precedent of all that armes ensue ?
Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,
Tempred with reason and advizement sage,

Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious spoile;
In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous gage;
And lately shakt the Lusitanian soile.

Sith, then, each where thou hast dispredd thy fame,
Love him that hath eternized your name.

E. S.

To the right honourable and most vertuous Lady
the Countesse of Penbroke.

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,
To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies;
Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore

His goodly image, living evermore

In the divine resemblaunce of your face;
Which with your vertues ye embellish more,
And native beauty deck with heavenlie grace:

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.
Not that these few lines can in them comprise
Those glorious ornaments of hevenly grace,
Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes,
And in subdued harts do tyranyse;

For thereunto doth need a golden quill,
And silver leaves, them rightly to devise;
But to make humble present of good will:
Which, whenas timely meanes it purchase may,
In ampler wise it selfe will forth display.

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.

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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.


Helpe then, O holy virgin! chiefe of nyne,
Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will;
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights, and fayrest Tanaquill,
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his undeserved wrong:

O, helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong!

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