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A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight

Originally written in the Greeke Tongue, by an unknowne Author. Afterwards Translated into Spanish; after that, for the Excellency thereof, into the French Tongue by N. H. next by B. M. into the Thuscan, and now turn'd into English Verse by L. L. [i.e. Leonard Lawrence] a well-wisher to the Muses

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To his respected second-selfe L. L.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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To his respected second-selfe L. L.

How can thy worth be more exprest, than by
The pleasant fruits of th'ingenuity?
The praise whereof shall tend to thy renowne,
Yea, binde thy Temples with a Lawrell Crowne:
Envy may barke, but shall not bite thy name,
Nor yet have force to rob thee of thy Fame.
Heede no aspersions, set thy selfe at rest,
The supprest Palme fructifieth best:
Apollo's Sonnes, Minerva's Darlings will
Applaud thy Genius, and maintaine it still.
Thy private friends (experienc'd) will confesse
There's worth, there's wit, there's learning in thy Verse:
And thy familiars, wishing thee the Bayes,
Have song Encomiums to thy lasting praise.
Shall I now laud thee? no, 'tmust be some other;
My reason's this, because I am thy brother
J. Lawrence.