TO THE WORTHILY Honor'd Knight, Sir Timothy Hutton.
Noblest
of mindes, vnknowne, I would inuite,
Rich Pyrrhus to accept a Codrus mite.
My lame-legd Muse, nere clome Pernassus Mount.
Nor drunke the iuice of Aganippe's Fount:
Yet doth aspire with Dedall's wings, appeale
To you, sole Patron of our common weale.
The foule maskt Lady, night, which blots the skie,
Hath but one Phœbe, feuer-shaking eye.
Olympus azure clime, one golden light,
Which drownes the starry curtaine of the night:
And my rude Muse (which Satyrists would rend)
One generous, graue Patronizing friend.
You this Mæcenas are, peruse my writ,
And vse these Metroes of true meaning wit:
Command; commend them not: such humile Art
Disclaimes applause, demerits no desert.
Ualue my verse according to her worth:
No mercenary hope hath brought her forth.
Times puny, Penny-wits, I loathing hate.
Though poore, Im'e pure, from such a seruile state.
These workes (fram'd on the Anuile of my braine)
My free borne Muse, enfranchise from such shame:
In which large Calender, Timists may view,
I onely writ to please the World, and you.
Your worships friend Nomine & Re: Henry Hutton.
