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Lenvoye.
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137

Lenvoye.

Syr Salamanke to thee this tale is tolde,
Peruse it well and call unto thy minde,
The pleasaunt place where thou dydst first behold
The rewfull rymes: remember how the Winde
Dyd calmelye blowe: and made me leave behinde,
Some leaves thereof: whiles I sate reading styll,
And thou then seemdst to hearken with good wyll.
Beleeve me nowe, hadst thou not seemd to lyke
The wofull wordes of Bartholmews discourse,
They should have lyen styll drowned in the dyke,
Lyke Sybylls leaves which flye with lytle force,
But for thou seemdst to take therein remorce,
I sought againe in corners of my brest,
To finde them out and place them with the rest.
Such skyll thou hast to make me (foole) beleeve,
My bables are as brave as any bee,
Well since it is so, let it never greeve
Thy friendly minde this worthlesse verse to see
In print at last: for trust thou unto mee,
Thine onely prayse dyd make me venture forth,
To set in shewe a thing so litle worth.
Thus unto thee these leaves I recommend,
To reade, to raze, to view, and to correct,
Vouchsafe (my friend) therein for to amend
That is amisse, remember that our sect,
Is sure to bee with floutes alwayes infect.
And since most mockes wyll light uppon my muse,
Vouchsafe (my friend) hir faultes for to peruse.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio.