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66
To the Countess of S. with the holy Court.
Madam,
Since every place you blesse, the nameThis Book assumes may justlier claim,
(What more a Court then where you shine?
And where your soul, what more divine?)
You may perhaps doubt at first sight,
That it usurps upon your right;
And praising vertues that belong
To you in others, doth yours wrong;
No, 'tis your self you read, in all
Perfections earlier Ages call
Their own; all Glories they e're knew
Were but faint Prophecies of you.
You then have here sole Int'rest whom 'tis meant
As well to entertain, as represent.
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