Fame sayes (great PRINCESSE) that the _Pow’rs-above_, Will soone forgive; which, I desire to prove: For, I am guiltie of a _Venial-sinne_ Against your GRACE; and, have remain’d therein Without an _Absolution_, so long time, That, now, my _Conscience_ checks me for the _Crime_; And, to reprove me for it, will not cease Till I have, someway, sought to make my _Peace_. To palliate my _Fault_, I could produce Enough, perhaps, to stand for an _Excuse_. But, when I mind what _Favours_, and what _Fame_ I might have purchased unto my _Name_, (By taking Courage, to have done my best) I dare not make _Excuses_; but, request Your pardon, rather, and, that some _Oblation_ May game my _Person_, future acceptation. To that intent, this humble _Offring_, here, Within your gracious presence, doth appeare. And, that it may the more content your eye, Well-graven _Figures_, help to beautifie My lowly _Gift_: And, vailed are in these, A _Treasury_ of Golden _Sentences_; By my well-meaning _Muse_, interpreted, That, with your NAME, their Morals may be spread And scattred, _Largesse-like_, (at your commanding) To helpe inrich the _Poore in Vnderstanding_. If YOV accept the _Tender_, I shall know, Your GRACE is pleased with your _Servant_, so, As, that there may be hope, my future Actions, Will give the more contenting Satisfactions: And, your _Encouragements_, my _Pow’rs_ may raise, To make the BEAVTIES of your _Later dayes_, More glorious, far, than your fresh YOVTH’S perfection, Though, knowne to be, the _Load-stone_ of _Affection_. For, like the loving TVRTLE, you have stood So constant, in your vowed _Widdow-hood_; So strictly, kept a solitarie state; So faithfull beene, to your deceased MATE; So firmly true, and truly kinde, to _them_, Which are the _Branches_ of his _Princely-stemme_; And, personated in so high a _Straine_, The parts of HONOVR; that, my rusticke _vaine_, Must raised be, before it can ascend To say, how much, your _Fame_, doth you commend. Yet, if these _Lines_, (or, _that_ they Vsher in) For me, some _Passage_ may, anew, begin To your _Esteeme_; I, may so happily, Illustrate forth, the _Golden-History_ Of those _Affections_, which within your Brest, Have to the world remained unexprest. That, future times, to your applause may reade, The matchlesse _Paterne_ of a _Widdowed-bed_, Which you have drawne, for those to _imitate_ Who can; and, for the rest to wonder at. For, what (thereto) yet wanteth, in my _Muse_, Your GRACE, as my _Minerva_, may infuse. Nor, will it be in vaine, to shew the worth Of those _Perfections_, truly blazed forth, Which you may personate: Nor, shall it be To your _Content_ unusefull, when you see The _Best part of your selfe_, (as in a _Glasse_)