Motto.
COme frolick it a while my lustie swayne,
Let's see if time haue yet reuiu'd in thee,
Or if there be remayning but a grayne,
Of the olde stocke of famous poesie,
Or but one slip yet left of this same sacred tree.
Or if reseru'd from elds deuouring rage,
Recordes of vertue, Aye memoriall,
Left to the world as learnings lasting gage,
Or if the prayse of worthy pastorall,
May tempt thee now, or mooue thee once at all.
To Fortunes Orphanes Nature hath bequeath'd,
That mighty Monarchs seldome haue possest,
From highest Heauen, this influence is breath'd,
A most diuine impression in the breast, (feast.
And those whom Fortune pines doth Nature often