 | Englands Helicon |  |
To his very louing friends, M. Nicholas VVanton, and M. George Faucet.
TO HIS LOVING KINDE FRIEND, Maister Iohn Bodenham.
Wits Common-wealth, the first fruites of thy paines,Drew on Wits Theater, thy second Sonne:
By both of which, I cannot count the gaines,
And wondrous profit that the world hath wonne.
Next, in the Muses Garden, gathering flowres,
Thou mad'st a Nosegay, as was neuer sweeter:
Whose sent will sauour to Times latest howres,
And for the greatest Prince no Poesie meeter.
Now comes thy Helicon, to make compleate
And furnish vp thy last impos'd designe:
My paines heerein, I cannot terme it great,
But what-so-ere, my loue (and all) is thine.
Take loue, take paines, take all remaines in me:
And where thou art, my hart still liues with thee.
A. B.
| Englands Helicon | |