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17. To his Endeared Tutor, Mr. Will. Naylour, Senior Fellow,
of Gon. and Cai. Colledge in Cambridge.
To your Protection Sir! my Muse doth flie;
As conscious of her Imbecilitie.
It were Impiety, to question now;
The Residence of Candour, on your Brow.
Frequent Experiments made Manifest;
She as Queen Regent, triumphs in your Breast.
I that am Flint, to whatsoever Threat;
And can't be Anvil'd, to a base Regret:
From things displeasing to you, did refrain:
Nor were your Moral Lectures read in vain.
The Curb of Tutor, did not chafe my will:
This made Me Obey then; and Honour still.
On Pain of Death, I durst not too much Rove:
Lest I should seem a Rebel, against Love.
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