 | The Rebellion |  |
To his worthy Esteemed Mr. Thomas Rawlins on his Rebellion.
I may not wonder, for the world does know,What Poets can, and oft times reach unto.
They oft worke myracles: No marvaile than
Thou mak'st thy Tailer here a Nobleman:
Would all the Trade were honest too but he
Hath learn't the utmost of the Mystery,
Filching with cunning industery, the heart
Of such a beauty, which did prove the smart
Of many worthy Lovers, and doth gaine
That prize which others labour'd for in vaine.
Thou mak'st him valiant too, and such a spirit,
As every Noble mind approves his merit.
But what Renowne th'ast given his worth, tis fit
The world should render to thy hopefull wit,
And with a welcome Plaudit entertaine
This lovely issue of thy teeming braine.
May winne so much upon thee for each line
Thou hast bequeath'd the World thou'lt give her tenne
And raise more high the glory of thy Penne,
Accomplish these our wishes, and then see,
How all that love the Arts will honour thee.
C. G.
| The Rebellion | |