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The opinion of the aucthor himself after all these commendations.
  
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33

The opinion of the aucthor himself after all these commendations.

What neede I speake my self, since other say so much?
Who seme to praise these poesies so, as if ther wer none such?
But sure my silly self, do find therein no smell,
Which may deserve such passing prayse, or seeme to taste so well.
This boone I onely crave, that Readers yet will deigne
(If any weede herein do seeme, his fellow flowres to stayne)
Then reade but others workes, and marke if that they finde,
No toyes therein which may dislike, some modest readers minde?
Reade Virgills Pryapus, or Ovids wanton verse,
Which he about Corinnaes couche, so clerkly can rehearse.
Reade Faustoes filthy tale, in Ariostoes ryme,
And let not Marots Alyx passe, without impeach of crime.
These things considred well, I trust they will excuse
This muze of mine, although she seem, such toyes somtimes to use.
Beleeve me Lordings all, it is a Poetes parte,
To handle eche thing in his kinde, for therein lieth his arte:
Lucillius ledde the daunce, and Horace made the lawe,
That poetes by Aucthoritie, may call (A dawe) A Dawe,
And eke (a hore) A Hore, but yet in cleanly wordes,
So that the vice may be rebukt, as though it were in bourdes:
This phrase sometimes I use, which (if it be a faute)
Condempne not all the rest therfore, that here in verse is taught,
Smell every poesie right, and you therein shall finde,
Fresh flowres, good hearbes, & holsome weedes, to please a skilfull minde.
Tam Marti, quàm Mercurio.
FINIS.