Whose works oft printed, set on euery post,
To publique censure subiect haue bin most;
For such whose poems, be they nere so rare,
In priuate chambers, that incloistered are,
And by transcription daintyly must goe;
As though the world vnworthy were to know, 190
Their rich composures, let those men that keepe
These wonderous reliques in their iudgement deepe;
And cry them vp so, let such Peeces bee
Spoke of by those that shall come after me,
I passe not for them:  nor doe meane to run,
In quest of these, that them applause haue wonne,
Vpon our Stages in these latter dayes,
That are so many, let them haue their bayes
That doe deserue it; let those wits that haunt
Those publique circuits, let them freely chaunt 200
Their fine Composures, and their praise pursue
And so my deare friend, for this time adue.

Vpon the death of his incomparable friend Sir HENRY RAYNSFORD of CLIFFORD

      Could there be words found to expresse my losse,
    There were some hope, that this my heauy crosse
    Might be sustained, and that wretched I
    Might once finde comfort:  but to haue him die
    Past all degrees that was so deare to me;
    As but comparing him with others, hee
    Was such a thing, as if some Power should say
    I’le take Man on me, to shew men the way
    What a friend should be.  But words come so short
    Of him, that when I thus would him report, 10
    I am vndone, and hauing nought to say,
    Mad at my selfe, I throwe my penne away,
    And beate my breast, that there should be a woe
    So high, that words cannot attaine thereto. 
    T’is strange that I from my abundant breast,
    Who others sorrowes haue so well exprest: 
    Yet I by this in little time am growne
    So poore, that I want to expresse mine owne. 
    I thinke the Fates perceiuing me to beare
    My worldly crosses without wit or feare:  20
    Nay, with what scorne I euer haue derided,
    Those plagues that for me they haue oft prouided,
    Drew them to counsaile; nay, conspired rather,
    And in this businesse laid their heads together
    To finde some one plague, that might me subuert,
    And at an instant breake my stubborne heart;
    They did indeede, and onely to this end
    They tooke from me this more then man, or friend. 
      Hard-hearted Fates, your worst thus haue you done,
    Then let vs see what lastly you haue wonne 30
    By this your rigour, in a course so strict,
    Why see, I beare all that you can inflict: 
    And hee from heauen your poore reuenge to view;
    Laments my losse of him, but laughes at you,
    Whilst I against you execrations