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Times iourney to seeke his Daughter Truth

And Truths Letter to Fame of Englands Excellencie [by Peter Pett]

Pett, Peter

[epigraph]

[section]

[dedication]

TIMES IOVRNEY TO SEEKE HIS DAVGHTER TRVETH.

TRVTHS LETTER TO FAME OF ENGLANDES EXCELLENCIE.

The Conclusion.

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TRVTHS LETTER TO FAME OF ENGLANDES EXCELLENCIE.

Admired Fame, by all men honoured:
Thou due rewarder of all great desarts:
Thou that doest make men liue when they are dead;
Thou cherisher of honour-breathing harts:
Parent of valour: Nurse of sacred Arts;
Take thou a little truce with false surmises,
And marke what Truth thee to report aduises.

Speake thou of England, and her excellence:
Straine thou aloft thy trompets roaring blast:
Tell thou to all her great preheminence;
And (as through euery land thou flyest fast)
Let Englands worth be neuer ouerpast,
That all the VVorld may wonder much at this,
That such a wonder in the VVorld there is.

And first declare in what an high account,
Shee houldeth Truths most sacred deity:
Her kindnesse now to me doth farre surmount,
Her late vnkindnesse shewd to me, when I
Was forced into banishment to fly:
The chiefe efficient of which direfull woe,
Was cruell Enuy my malicious foe.

But now, no Nation since Iove me begat,
(What ere they were in ages out of date,
Amongst whome I in greatest honour sat)
Did euer prize me at a higher rate;
Then England doth, or more increase my state.
No nation euer reuerenc'd me more,
Then glorious England doth me now adore.

Thou sawst how shee did welcome me, when as
Vpon her shore I was agayne arriued:
Thou saw'st how great my interrainment was,
(Though Enuy late had me of right depriued,
And to disgrace me stratagems contriued)
But I haue greater arguments to proue,
The greatnesse of her kindnesse and her loue.

For when my former griefe was quite disperst,
And thought of former wrong farre cha'sd away,
My graces (which with cloudes were hidden erst)
Gan to disclose, and suddenly display
Themselues, and all their beauty to bewray
In great perfection, which when England saw,
Great admiration from her did it draw.

Astonisht with my graces most diuine,
(For Truth, of Truth, may iustly speake the truth)
And rauisht with fayre Truths rare beauties shine;
It grieued her that my so grieuous ruth,
Shee so had suffred: and to me shee suth,
That I no longer would retayne in mind,
My late disgrace which prou'd her too vnkind.

Which easily obtaind, shee promist mee,
And with a solemne oath her selfe shee bound:
That I should presently perceiue and see,
How glad shee was, she had my fauour found.
Immediatly in selfe same minutes stound,
Into my hands shee freely did deliuer
Two elfes that were my vowed en'mies euer.

Enuy the one, and Superstition
The other was: both these two did procure,
Those iniuries poore Truth to fall vpon,
I meane those wrongs which I did late indure:
For so fayre England did me then assure,
They my disastres and distresses bred,
By their sole meanes I so was iniured.

Enuy shee tolde good England that I sought,
To circumuent her by some treachery:
And so to bring her glorious state to nought.
For sure shee sayd (there was no remedy)
If still shee intertayn'd me courteously,
Her glory of necessity must fall,
And all her pompe be perioded withall.

And Superstition shee her selfe inuested,
In a rich habite, which was not her owne:
For well shee knew that shee should be detested,
If what she were indeed it should be knowne,
And so might all her drifts be ouerthrowne.
She deckt her selfe with many a pretious gemme,
And on her head shee set a diademme.

And thus to England came shee, and to hir
Sayd shee was Truth, and Truth did but deceaue hir:
And shee with Enuy kept so foule a stir,
That England fear'd I would of life bereaue hir:
For still they tolde hir, I nere meant to leaue hir,
Till I had made hir state most miserable,
Which only Truth makes truly admirable.

All this did England vnto me declare,
And sayd these twayne hir sutly did beguile,
(For Superstition durst with me compare,
And Enuy robd me of my rightfull stile,
To grace therewith hir mate that wretch so vile.)
Fayre Truth (saith shee) know surely this for truth,
Had not these been, nere should haue been thy ruth.

Their subtilty simplicity abused,
And by their craft they did me ouer reach:
Or else thou nere shouldst haue been so misused:
But now these hellish caitifes I will teach,
What t'is t'wixt thee and mee to make a breach.
For now I know them, and here captiues haue them,
Appoint their doomes, not all the World shall saue them.

The which when I did to hir selfe referre,
And tolde hir Truth doth not delight in blood:
Shee sayd that Enuy shee would quick interre,
And that same other wretch foe to my good,
Should steruing pine, and dy for want of food,
Thus Truth (saith shee) I will reuenge thy wrong,
And for my fault make full amends ere long.

This said, shee pluckt from Superstitions backe,
My glorious ornaments, and gorgeous weeds:
For mine they were, and to supply her lacke,
Shee stole them from me: and such lewd misdeeds
It is by which, hir progeny still speeds.
Thus stript, a foule deformed hagge shee seemd,
I wondred how shee could be so esteemd.

Then straight shee led them both vnto their doome,
And thus shee vsde Truths greatest enemies:
Though Superstitions Sonne still liue at Rome,
Yet (for my many grieuous iniuries,
And for shee wrought me such indignities)
Her selfe was staru'd, and Enuy felt such paine,
As shee deseru'd; though still hir brood remaine.

Thus England dealt for me, and more then so;
Her loue yet further did it selfe extend:
Shee did not onely thus reuenge my woe,
But also gainst my foes my right defend:
Listen good Fame, and with attention lend
Thine eare vnto my tale, whilst I declare,
Her loue to me, her kindnes, and her care.

Proud Superstitions Sonne, soone as he knew,
His mothers death was onely for my sake:
He gathered an host a mighty crew,
With which he ment gainst England warre to make,
And forcibly me from her hands to take.
So great and puissant his forces were,
He thought her hart would be o'rewhelmd with feare.

For with him ioyned was his cursed sister,
That odious and notorious whore of Babel:
Her mothers death shee knew, and likewise mist her
As well as he. And with her such a rable
Of paramours she had, as seemed able
The greatest state on earth to ruinate,
And bring to greatest pompe a tragicke fate.

Thus mand he gan to manage forth his warre,
And proudly sent to England this defiance,
That shee should looke for enemies from farre,
If still with Truth shee kept so great allyance:
Such warre in auntient times did wage those giants,
That gainst the heauenly powers as Poets wright,
Opposd themselues and their presuming might.

Yet (if shee would deliuer to his hand,
Truth that he might on her reuengement take,)
He sent her word he would not hurt her land:
But if shee did this profer made forsake,
Then should his wrath it selfe vp-rouse and wake,
To which he thought shee could make no resistance,
Though God from heauen should giue her his assistance.

These menaces not feared her a whit,
Shee weighd them not but bid him doe his worst,
In spight of him Truth should in safety sit;
(She sayd) nor should a monster so acucrst,
Make her to satiate his bloody thurst.
Truth loue I well (saith shee) and well I know,
Truths champions God will sheild from ouerthrow.

This answer made Truths enemies inraged,
And foming poyson swore that Truth should dye,
Or Englands life should be for hers ingaged:
Not knowing Truth must liue immortally,
And liue to see the cursed progeny
Of Superstition, consumed quite,
Though now against me they are bold to fight.

Towards England straight they hye in furious hast,
Intending to destroy her {vueily},
To leaue her land all desolate and wast,
And bring her selfe into captiuity:
And thus resolu'd, in swarmes they thither fly.
The Diuill lent them wings, and gaue them stings:
But God from daunger England safely brings.

When England heard my foes approached neare,
Together gathred she her strength and force,
To fight for Truth whome shee did hold so deare:
Meaning to shew no pitty, no remorce,
To them that sought me from her to diuorce.
Away with me shee hasts my foes to meet,
In little kindnesse meaning them to greet.

At last they met in a large spatious playne,
Wholy vnlyke in shew: their troupes did passe
For multitude, the drops in showers of rayne;
The other sorte was nothing so alas,
Compar'd to them, like some small ridge of grasse
In field of come: or more for my intent,
As seems least yle, to largest continent.

As those small troupes with which the Macedon
Did braue and dare Darius in the field,
Compar'd to those o're whome he conquest won,
(When proud Darius forced was to yield,
Mauger the force he had himselfe to shield)
Such England had, compared to the power,
That now prepared was her to deuoure.

Or as those little forces, once opposed
Against great Xerxes nauy) which was thought
Impossible by force to be inclosed:
Or vnto any hazard to be brought)
Such England had, compar'd with theirs that sought
To bring her state to ruin for my sake;
Because she would not Truths defence forsake.

Yet England was no whit discouraged,
Nor terrefide by their great multitude:
Couragiously her force she forward led,
And did her selfe midst thickest throng intrude,
That with their blood her hands might be imbrude.
Straunge that a woman should so valiant be,
And such an ancient matrone as is she.

Backt with such helpe as I to her could yield,
At the first onset, and first furious shocke,
So fiercely she her brandisht blade did wield;
That they who first her little force did mocke,
And thought, they might their harts securely rocke
On sleep, were made from rankes to run, and stray,
Her force, and feircenes did them so dismay.

But lo, a new supply did them renew;
For as they thus were daunted and dismayd,
An host offeends we might approaching vew.
That tow'rds vs came with ensignes all displayd,
Fearing their kingdome should be sore decayd,
If England o're Truths enmyes should preuaile,
They hastned thus, to make her courage quaile.

But God (which alwaies doth Truths cause defend)
Our prayers to him most benignely hard,
And downe from heauen he gratiously did send,
Legions of Angels, that they might me gard.
And England from all daungers safely ward.
So soone as England saw, God help'd her so;
She cared nor for fiend, nor any foe,

Straight Superstitions Sonne she doth dismount,
From of his palfrey where he proudly sate,
Commaunding him to render an account
Of his presumption; and to tell her what
Made him so bolde whilst this I wondred at,
His sister managing a monstrous beast,
With murther and with bloud her hate did feast.

Which (when I saw) to her inrag'd I hide,
But presently she trembling turnd her backe:
In no wise she my presence would abide.
I followed amayne her monsters tracke,
Nor did I meane my swift pursuite to slacke.
Still did she runne, to shunne my fierce incounter,
For well she knew I did in force surmount her.

As flees the sable Night from dayes approach,
Fearing to looke fayre Morning in the face,
(For when Aurora mounts her siluer coach,
Night trips apace, and leaues to her the place)
So fled this strumpet from me in this chace,
Nor durst shee euer turne to look on mee,
But posting from my countenance did flee.

I follow'd her to Romes accursed gates,
Thinking to ouertake her, but in vayne:
Which place (cause it my soule abhorres and hates)
Did make mee presently returne agayne;
Or else this strumpet had not scap'd vnslayne.
Backe I returnd to England, whome I found
Mongst slaughterd foes, her front with laurell bound.

For Superstitions Sonne shee tooke aliue,
Yet wounded so that presently he dyed,
Or seemd to dye: but loe he did reuiue,
And closely got himselfe away vnspied.
Repenting that be Englands force had tryed.
Disrob'd, and naked, was he glad to scape,
That late for Englands life and mine did gape.

His forces also all dispersed were,
And cut in pieces, or else put to flight:
Nothing but bloudy remnants did appeare,
And thus for Trueth did England deigne to fight,
Ayded by God, and by celestiall might,
To whome shee yeelded prayse religiously,
And sayd he onely wrought her victory.

This victory thus happily obtained,
Triumphant backe with England was I led,
Hoping shee now had firmely me regained:
A crowne imperiall plac'd she on my head,
And promist I should not be iniured;
Though with her bloud shee did reuenge my wrong,
For well shee knew that God would make her strong.

And now these forty yeares I haue remayned
With her in honour, and in maiesty:
And as when shee at first mee intertayned,
(I meane first after my great misery)
Shee welcomd me (thou knowest) most louingly;
So still her loue continueth the same,
And still shee doth adore Truths sacred name.

And is not this good Fame an excellence?
Did euer any nation more for me?
Or stand more stoutly to my rightes defence?
And righteous quarrell? Surely if it be
An excellence, to honour Truth: then shee
Fames approbation deserueth well;
For in this excellence shee doth excell.

Of Englands matchlesse Queene make next report,
A matchlesse theame, and onely fitting Fame:
A matter of high moment, great import:
Elizabeth no sooner shalt thou name,
But Enuyes brood will hyde their heads for shame,
Not daring once her worth to fault or blame,
When worthily thou shalt declare the same.

Now could I wish some sacred Muses skill,
In sugred tunes her excellence to tell:
Then should my tale with admiration fill
Thine eares, to heare how much she doth excell:
For Excellence it selfe in her doth dwell.
What should I say? Ah I want words to say,
What one she is, her graces to display.

Religion hath in her such interest,
For her sake Truth intirely doth she loue,
And such possession in her sacred brest
Hath Pietie, that vnto God aboue,
Her thoughts and her affections soaring moue:
As if she did terrestriall things despise,
And scornd the world and worldly things to prise.

Strange in a Monarch of such maiesty:
For humane nature is so fraile by kinde;
That being once aduanced, by and by
God we forget, nor will retayne in minde
Those benefits from him we still doe finde.
But she of honour and of dignitie,
Maketh a step therewith to mount on hie.

As towres a loftie Eagle, still aloft,
And doth to take a lower flight disdaine,
When as to pierce the cloudes she seemeth oft,
As if she sought some sacred seate to gaine,
Amongst the Starres in glory to remaine:
Euen so Eliza striues aloft to mount,
And of these baser things makes none account.

True, prince-ennobling, faire celestiall grace:
Infusde by God himselfe into the minde:
Inforcing nature to resigne her place,
That otherwise is of her selfe inclinde:
Happy are they from God such fauour finde;
Ah happie, yea thrice happie sure are those,
Whose minds thus graciously God doth dispose.

And happie England, to whome God hath graunted
A Princesse so religiously deuoted:
For else might Truth still haue remayned daunted,
And England still on Superstition doted.
And happely so soone had not been noted
Her slie deceit, had not Eliza beene,
Whom God made chiefest meanes to make it seene.

But ah I faint, I finde my selfe too weake,
To beare so great a burthen, or to treat
Of such a rare excellence: though Truth can speake
Nothing but truth, her taske is ouer great,
To tell Elizaes worth, or shew the seat,
That euery speciall grace hath in her hart,
In minde, in body, and in euery part.

Poets of Pallas oft reported much,
And would Fame know what they did meane thereby?
In auncient times ne're liued any such,
But they of Englands Queene did prophecy.
Compare their writings with her worth, to try
The trueth hereof, then shalt thou plainely see,
Neuer was any Pallas, if not shee.

Pallas from Ioue himselfe drew her dissent,
And is not Englands Queene Lehanah's child?
Else sure shee could not be so excellent,
So vertuous, religious, and mild,
T'were hard if Truth should be herein beguild.
Immortall Pallas they declar'd to be,
This Queenes immortall fame they did foresee.

Pallas, those auncient writers did commend,
For depth of wisedome, and for learnings skill:
And doe not these Elizabeth attend,
Wayting vpon her as her handmaydes still,
To execute her pleasure and her will?
Eliza they could not haue nam'd more playn,
VVisedome and Learning both support her trayn.

Her Wisedome, is as farre beyond compare,
With most of weaker sexe, or femall kynd:
As brightest starres, that in the heauens are,
Comparde with dimmest lamps that euer shinde:
Or smallest glo-wormes men by night doe finde.
What talke I of her sexe? such Wisedome can,
Be very hardly found in any man.

Witnesse her gouerment this forty yeares,
So wonderfull, diuine, and rarely wise.
Wise is the Pylot that his ship then steeres
In safety, when as greatest stormes arise,
And euery billow mounteth to the Skies,
And wise Eliza, that the sterne so guydes,
In spite of sternest foes, no harme betydes.

Millions of billowes menace the decay
Of Englands common wealth; yet not preuayle,
Nor can they make her giue them any way,
Or any whit to beare the lesser sayle;
They can not hurt her, for their force doth fayle:
God teacheth her, to rule the helme so well,
Her barke doth breake them, when they proudest swell.

And as for Learnings admirable graces,
Let Learnings selfe her learning testifie:
That pen which in this Subiect largely traces,
At full herein her worth to amplifie,
In many volumes need historifie.
Her excellence in excellentest Artes,
Requires more skill, then Arte to me imparts.

In sacred letters she so skilfull is,
So expert, and so well experienced:
Her match to find't is difficult (I wis)
(I meane a prince that is so deeply red,
In holy writ) for nere was registred,
By auntient Time in any monument,
One prince in sacred skill more excellent.

List her, but speake, or write what tongue she will,
Of sacred languages, or other wise;
Her talke, her stile, appeare so full of skill,
As all the Muses did the same deuise.
But how alas can lines such worth comprise?
Her talke, her stile, are both celestiall,
Her wisedome, and her skill angelicall.

Pallas moreouer they declar'd to be
Victorious dauntlesse neuer conquered:
And may not one meere blind perceiue and see,
They prophecide of Englands princely head?
All whose deseignes so prosp'rously haue sped,
She neuer went without the Victorie,
Since she obtaind the English monarchie.

Thus Fame (thou seest) that Englands gouernesse
Is Pallas selfe, for Wisedome, learning, and
For faire victorious fortunate successe,
In euery action which she takes in hand.
Oh happy common wealth, oh happy land.
Pallas she is, and Vertues Pallace eke,
What theme more glorious needeth Fame to seeke?

Her Fortitude, her neuer daunted mind,
Contemning troubles of aduersity,
(Which all that liue sometime of force must find)
Her worthy princely Magnanimity;
Her Temperance in calme prosperity;
Are such that no pen can sufficiently
Expresse the same, or praise them worthily.

And yet two vertues she's iumbled by,
More then by all these that haue yet been named.
And as those two great lights adorne the {sky},
Which for the worlds two eyes at first were framed,
Whose presence makes all lesser lights ashamed:
Euen so Eliza is adorned by
Her Chastity, and righteous equity.

Should I her Chastity striue to declare?
So pure? so matchlesse so immaculate?
So spotlesse? and so admirably rare?
Nere should I satisfie, or satiate
My thirsty pen herein; nor moderate
My wandring Muse, that would too tedious be,
And so perhaps too troublesome to thee.

This gemme of price, this ornament of worth,
This precious pearle, this iewell of esteeme,
I leaue to thee at full to set it forth:
That to the World Elizabeth may seeme,
Dianaes selfe; and all the World may deeme,
The paragon of Chastity she is,
Whome neuer any could excell in this.

And yet her Equity it equalleth,
And is as excellent and rare as that:
Hon'ring asmuch diuine Elizabeth:
For this makes also her admired at,
Asmuch as any prince that euer sat
On Regall throne, and hard it is to name,
One liuing now her equall in the same.

Iustice and mercy she in ballance layeth,
There equally to counterpoyse each other,
And with them all her actions wisely wayeth,
Not suffring one to ouerpoise another:
So deales with dearest children tender mother.
Her iustice great, her mercy is as great,
Iustice, and Mercye, both wait on her seat.

There wait they, and when she determines ought,
Both of them plead: and both their sentences
She wisely makes together to be brought,
And by them both deemes what most fitting is:
Taking away from them all diffrences;
And so in one she both of them combines,
And both together in one band conioynes.

When Iustice strikes then Mercie tells her how,
And shewes her whome she with her sword should smite;
Eliza made to Equity a vow.
By heauens, by earth, and by her scepters right,
Iustice and mercy she would counite:
Sacred and mild is that seuerity,
When Iustice linked is with clemency.

Canst thou this Excellence Fame too much prise?
For England such a worthy prince to haue?
So learned? and so admirably wise?
So vertuous? religious? and graue?
So chast? so iust? so mercifull to saue?
Speake what thou canst, for this, Truth dares auer,
Thou canst not speake too worthily of her.

And next adioyne her worthy Senatours:
Declare their Wisedome, and their grauity:
I meane Elizabeth's wise Counsallours,
Supporting stayes to Englands pollicy,
Vpholding it as Atlas doth the sky.
A speciall Excellence thou shouldst omit,
If mention of their worth thou shouldst forget.

For their graue wisedome, and wise grauity,
Tell thou the world that they fage Catoes are:
Nestors in Counsell, when they prudently
What best doth fit for Englands good declare.
For loue vnto their Countrey, them compare
To Parents in their childrens tender loue,
Which neuer from them will the same remoue.

And well thou maist to Parents loue compare
Their tender loue vnto their nation:
So fatherly it is, so great their care;
It seemeth greater then th'affection,
That Parents beare their best indeared Sonne,
A happie blessed Aristocratie,
In such a farre-excelling Monarchie.

I tell thee Fame their worthie names will grace
Thy tale, and thy discourse in euery eare:
And therefore in thy swift continuall race,
Forget thou not the same: but let all heare,
And let it to succeeding times appeare,
(As thou through euery land shalt swiftly passe)
How farre herein faire England doth surpasse.

Next speake of Englands dauntlesse Warriours,
(T'will grace thy trumpe to grace them with her sound)
Braue Martialists, victorious Conquerours,
Worthy eternally to be renound,
And with immortall glorie to be cround.
Tell their deserts, and fame-deseruing laude,
That all the world may to their worth applaude.

Vpon their plumed crests doth Honour sit
In glorious weeds, as great commaunderesse:
Instructing them as pupils what is fit,
Whilst they to her obedience professe:
In all their actions she is gouernesse,
Nor will they once from Honours precepts swerue,
Whome whilst they serue, all honour they deserue.

On Honour still attendeth Victory,
To grace their deeds with prosperous euent:
Directing them to wield couragiously,
Their conqu'ring blades to foes astonishment,
(Who thinke Reuenge her selfe mongst them is sent,
Whilst Englands worthies fury they doe see,
And feele their force from which they would be free.)

Their looks, as lightning dazell foemens eyes,
Their hands forge thunder to their warlike looke,
Their swordes from hands send foes their destinyes,
Writ by the Fates in neuer fayling booke:
And Victory their swords ne're yet forsooke.
Their lookes, their swords, make enemies to wonder,
Their looks are swords, their swords out them in sunder.

How many times Truths battailes haue they fought,
To tame my haughty aduersaryes pride?
How many times (their drifts to period brought)
Haue I triumphant them returning spide,
Charged with en'mies spoyles on euery side?
Erect thou Fame due trophees to their prayse,
That meriteth to match thy selfe in dayes.

Great Rome in pride and prime of her estate,
Whome many histories doe honour so,
(Though now she is become degenerate)
Was ne're so glorious for her Scipio,
For Cæsar Pompey and for others moe:
As England is for her braue warriours,
That are to these farre farre superiours.

Fame-hon'red Anniaball, that could commaund
Coy Fortune, and could haue her at his becke.
(When as it seemed shee vpon him faund,
And humbled at his feet her scornfull necke,
As if she feared him to counterchecke)
Made ne're so glorious Carthage lofty walls,
As England is for many Anniballs.

Leaue then to talke of famous Scipio,
Report no more the worthy facts at all
Of Cæsar, Pompey, that excelled so,
And once grac'd auntient Rome before her fall:
Talke not of Carthaginian Anniball.
At least (Fame) if thou needs their worth wilt praise,
See that aboue them, thou these worthies rayse.

As when the radiant Sun shines in the sky,
The lesser starres giue place that grac'd the night:
Euen so (Fame) when as thou shalt worthily
Declare their worths, that Englands battails fight,
Their splendour will obscure the others light.
Eos may shine a time, but when the Sunne
Guilds the Horison, then his light is donne.

Sawst thou their valour shew it selfe but once,
Against the enemies of Englands good,
How many of them they destroy at once,
And how they bathe their brandisht blades in blood,
Wading in gore, as in some watry flood:
Then wouldst thou say, and boldly wouldst auerre.
Iustly before all, Truth doth them preferre.

Mounted vpon Bellonaes chariot,
(Honor their guide, their handmayd Victory,
Like to fierce Lions all inrag'd, and hot
With anger, they amongst their foes doe flie,
Dispersing all their force immediately:
As oft the Sun dissolues some sullen cloude,
That dares presume his beautie to inshroude.

Their feete, they still vpon the necks aduaunce
Of Englands proudest foes, and tread them downe,
Inforcing them their glory to inhaunce,
And knowledge dutie to Elizaes Crowne:
Thus Englands Worthies spread her great renowne,
Now tell me Fame, if in this excellence
England hath not the sole preheminence.

A greater Excellence doth still remaine;
Englands faire daughters, (yet vnmentioned)
Whose beautie no deformitie doth staine:
Once Learning with her nursing milke them fed,
But now by them is Learning nourished.
Their excellence makes England excellent,
For that she hath so great an ornament.

But of their worth, now to make worthy mention
And euery other Excellence to tuch
Of matchles England; is not my intention.
Already I haue prou'd there is none such,
Hereafter I (perhaps) will shew, how much
For euery other thing she doth surmount,
And all her Excellence I will recount.

In meane time, Fame (now meane I to be short)
Say bouldly, that no nation doth excell
Great England: for thou bouldly mayst report,
What faultlesse Truth desireth thee to tell:
So doing Fame thou canst not doe but well.
If Enuies brood affirme thy tale not true,
Tell them Truth saith all this is Englands due.

FINIS.