To my friend the Author of this Book cui Titulus est
Κοσμοβρεφια
Non sat erat legisse semel, bis terque libellum,
Ipse quater legi, lectus & usque iuvat.
Dull
Panigericks are not worth a rush,
Good wine will sell without an Ivy bush;
A well compacted Poem will invite
Each Readers pallate, whet the appetite:
A comely feature needs no paint, and where
Bright Sol doth shine, we need no Tapers there.
Then take this Nothing naked as it is,
A Metaphisick, Hymne, or Genesis:
Du Bartus first, (let Bartas have his due)
Imparted to us what Sylvester knew.
My learned friend well mounted, ergo bolder,
Vpon Du Bartas and Sylvester's shoulder,
Did (Janus like) look backward and before
And saw as much as all the rest, or more:
Nay pregnant he, before his glass had run
Full fifteen winters, was the Muses Son;
Of nothing, he could something then indite,
To non-plus him that was the Stagyrite.
O cursed Heriticks! who dare to tell
A race of men, before the first man fell:
Read but this Book thou wilt beleeve as soon,
Phantastick world's created in the Moon.
Edvardus Browne Cantuar. Reg. Scho. Archi-didasc.
Januar. 1 5656.
