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To his Friend the Authour.

Sometimes (deare friend) I make thy Booke my meat,
And then I iudge 'tis Hony that I eat.
Sometimes my drinke it is, and then I thinke
It is Apollo's Nectar, and no drinke.
And being hurt in minde, I keepe in store
Thy Booke, a precious Balsame for the sore.
'Tis Hony, Nectar, Balsame most diuine:
Or one word for them all; my Friend, 'tis thine.
Tho. Heygate, è Societate Inter. Templi.