 | Chrestoleros |  |
Epigr. 28.
So harde it was for Poets to reiect,The once conceiued issue of their braine,
As for a mother her babe to neglect,
For whom in trauayling she tooke such paine.
Then if we loue our faultes for our owne sake.
Loue doth but loue the child, which loue did make.
| Chrestoleros | |