 | Nothing for a New-yeares gift |  |
TO THE RIGHT Worshipfull his dearely respected Patron, Syr VVilliam Hide Knight.
To you that daine my ditties to peruse,And gild the temper of my brazen quill,
You that giue strength vnto my weakned Muse,
To clamber vp the height of learned skill.
You that for nothing shewe this generous minde,
(A perfect token of true Noblenes)
You that to bountie haue your soules inclinde,
(VVhich shewes the world your world of worthines)
Nothing I send you for a Newyeares gift,
The faint endeuours of my sickly spirit,
My loue, zeale, dutie, and your owne demerit.
You lookt for Nothing, Nothing I impart,
VVith the poore remnant of my broken hart.
Your worthy vertues euer vowed: VV. L.
| Nothing for a New-yeares gift | |