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 tp8. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TO HIS FRIEND Captaine John Smith, and his Worke.
  
  
  
  
  
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49

TO HIS FRIEND
Captaine John Smith,
and his Worke.

I Know not how Desert more great can rise,
Then out of Danger t' ane for good mens Good;
Nor who doth better winne th' Olympian prize,
Than he whose Countryes Honor stirres his bloud;
Private respects have private expectation,
Publicke designes, should publish reputation.
This Gentleman whose Volumne heere is stoard
With strange discoverie of GODS strangest Creatures,
Gives us full view, how he hath Sayl'd, and Oar'd,
And Marcht, full many myles, whose rough defeatures,
Hath beene as bold, as puissant, up to binde
Their barbarous strength's, to follow him dog-linde.
But wit, nor valour, now adayes payes scores
For estimation; all goes now by wealth,
Or friends; tush! thrust the beggar out of dores
That is not Purse-lyn'd; those which live by stealth
Shall have their haunts; no matter what's the guest
In many places; monies well come best.
But those who well discerne, esteeme not so:
Nor I of thee brave Smith, that hast beat out
Thy Iron thus; though I but little know
To what t'hast seene; yet I in this am stout:
My thoughts, maps to my minde some accidents,
That makes mee see thy greater presidents.
Jo: Done.
[_]
1
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1. John Done, an obscure author and translator, fl. 1624-1633; not to be confused
with John Donne, the famous poet and divine. See the Biographical Directory.