Mr Thomas Coriat to his friends in England sendeth greeting from Agra the capitall city of the dominion of the great Mogoll in the Easterne India, the last of October, 1616. Thy trauels and thy glory to ennamell, with fame we mount thee on the lofty cammell; ... .

THE AVTHOR OF the Verse, takes leaue of the Author of the Prose, desiring rather to see him, then to heare from him.

THose Rimes before thy meaning doth vnclose, Which men perhaps haue blundred ore in Prose: And 'tis a doubt to me, whose paines is more, Thou that didst write, or they that read them o're: My Scullers muse without or Art or skill, In humble seruice (with a Gooses quill) Hath tane this needles, fruitles paines for thee, Not knowing when thoul't doe as much for me. But this is not the first, nor shall not be The last (I hope) that I shall write for thee.

For when newes thou wast drown'd did hither come, I wrote a mournefull Epicedium. And after when I heard it was a lye, I wrote of thy suruiuing presently. Laugh and be fat, the Scullers booke, and this Shewes how my minde to thee addicted is; My Loue to thee hath euer more been such, That in thy praise I nere can write too much: And much I long to see thee heere againe, That I may welcome thee in such a straine That shall euen cracke my pulsiue pi••mater, In warbling thy renowne by land and water: Then shall the Fame which thou hast won on foot (Mongst Hethens, Iews, Turks, Negroes (black as soot) Ride on my best Inuention like an Asse, To the amazement of each Owliglasse.