The arbor of amitie wherin is comprised pleasant poëms and pretie poesies, set foorth by Thomas Howell Gentleman. Anno. 1568.

Another to the same his hono∣rable and very good Ladie.

SOme blase in chosen wordes, and filed phrase so fine: The passing praise of Ladies great, extolde of wyt deuine. And howe the Gods aboue, haue giuen their giftes of grace: To plant in them the vertues chiefe, in bodie head and face. But I will this omit, my Muse in vaine to waste: For néedlesse tis into the seas, a water drop to caste. You neede no trumpe to sounde, to spread your noblenesse, For why your wyt, your wordes, your workes, doe well the same expresse: Your worthinesse eche where, your curtesie at home: Your friendly face, your bountie blest: your grace in great renowme. Your vertues excellent, that spring in noble Well: Shall neuer die, no skill I haue, one part thereof to tell.

And God hath giuen his giftes, to you so large and kinde: That euerie man may it conceiue, onelesse he will be blinde. Penelope in fayth, vnto the Talbot hie: Pandoras péere for qualities, that shine as sunne in skie. The Flower of fame you are, for euer freshe to spring: As fame will blow hir restlesse trumpe, your lasting name to ring. If I had Tullies tongue, and thousand wittes thereto: If Chaucers vaine, if Homers skill, if thousande helpers mo: Yet tongue, nor wyt nor vaine, nor skill nor helpe at all Can well descrie your due desarte, in praise perpetuall. Therefore my skillesse Muse, doth ende his tale to tell: As one that wanteth might to will, O Noble Fem farewell.

Your Honors T. Howell.