Ayres and dialogues For One, Two, and Three Voyces. By Henry Lawes ... The First Booke |
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To his much honour'd F. Mr. HENRY LAWES,
on his Book of Ayres.
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To his much honour'd F. Mr. HENRY LAWES, on his Book of Ayres.
Father of Numbers, who hast still thought fitTo tune thy selfe, and then Set others Wit;
Forgive my Zeale, who with my Sprig of Bayes
Do crowd into the Chorus of thy Praise.
For Silence were, when LAWES is nam'd, a wrong,
The Subject and the Master of all Song:
Who ne'r dost dive for Pebbles, undermine
Mountains to make old rusty Iron shine:
But hast made Great things Greater, do'st dispense
Lustre to Wit, by adding Sence to Sence.
For Passions are not Passions, 'till they be
Rais'd to that height, which they expect from Thee;
And all this is thy selfe; Thy Name's not grown
Broader by putting on a Cap or Gown;
Who like those Jockies that do often sell
An old worn Jade, because he's saddled well:
No; Thou can'st humour all that Wit can teach,
Which those that are but Note-men cannot reach:
Thou'rt all so fit, that some have pass'd their Votes,
Thy Notes beget the Words, not Words thy Notes.
T. NORTON
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