University of Virginia Library

To my learned and highly esteemed Friend, Mr. Robert Gomersall.

Had such a Labour in this jugling age
Sought after Greatnesse for its patronage,
Not after Goodnesse, I had then beene free
To love thy worke, though not to fancy thee;
But thou hast wonne me: since I see thy booke
Aymes at a judging eye, no smiling looke.
Greatnesse doth well to shelter errours, thou
Not having any, fear'st no frowning brow,
But wisely crav'st a view of his, that can
Not onely praise, but censure of a man.
Thou needst not doubt severer eyes, if he
Adde but applause unto thy Poety.
His workes such monuments of fame doe raise,
That none will Censure if he once but Praise.
Commend I would, but what? here's nothing knowne
Can be call'd thine, when each hath claim'd his owne.
Jove-bred-Minerva challengeth the wit.
Mercury flyes and sweares he languag'd it.
Thy Artes the Muses claime; the History
Savours of nothing but Divinity,
Transcrib'd from Gods records; then nothing's thine
(But griefe for th'Levites sinne) since th'use is mine.
But now deare friend, though this sufficient be
To raise up Trophees, and eternize thee:
Give leave to him that loves thee to desire
To serve thee friendlike, though in meane attire.
The glittering starre that darts a glorious light
Were lost if not commended by the night?
So stands it with thy verse; I writing set
Their beauty off, as Christall is by Iett.
Nor doth it trouble me; since that my end
Is not to be a Poet, but a friend.
And yet perhaps these looser lines of mine
May prove eternall; cause they usher thine.