In former times, such as had store of coyne, In warres at home, or when for conquests bound, For feare that some their treasures should purloyne, Gaue it to keepe to spirites within the ground; And to attend it, them so strongly tide, Till they return'd, home when they neuer came, Such as by art to get the same haue tride, From the strong spirits by no means get the same, Neerer you come, that further flies away, Striuing to holde it strongly in the deepe: Euen as this spirit, so she alone doth play, With those rich Beauties heauen giues her to keepe: Pitty so left, to coldenes of her blood, Not to auaile her, nor do others good. _To Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the honourable order of the Bath, and my most worthy Patron_ I will not striue m' inuention to inforce, With needlesse words your eyes to entertaine, T' obserue the formall ordinarie course That euerie one so vulgarly doth faine: Our interchanged and deliberate choise, Is with more firme and true election sorted, Then stands in censure of the common voice. That with light humor fondly is transported: Nor take I patterne of another's praise, Then what my pen may constantly avow. Nor walke more publique nor obscurer waies Then vertue bids, and iudgement will allow; So shall my tone, and best endeuours serue you, And still shall studie, still so to deserue you. _Michaell Drayton._ [from the Edition of 1619] 1 Like an aduenturous Sea-farer am I, Who hath some long and dang'rous Voyage beene, And call'd to tell of his Discouerie, How farre he sayl'd, what Countries he had seene, Proceeding from the Port whence he put forth, Shewes by his Compasse, how his Course he steer'd, When East, when West, when South, and when by North, As how the Pole to eu'ry place was rear'd, What Capes he doubled, of what Continent, The Gulphes and Straits, that strangely he had past, Where most becalm'd, wherewith foule Weather spent, And on what Rocks in perill to be cast? Thus in my Loue, Time calls me to relate My tedious Trauels, and oft-varying Fate. 6 How many paltry, foolish, painted things, That now in Coaches trouble eu'ry Street, Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings, Ere they be well wrap'd in their winding Sheet? Where I to thee Eternitie shall giue, When nothing else remayneth of these dayes, And Queenes hereafter shall be glad to liue Vpon the Almes of thy superfluous prayse; Virgins and Matrons reading these my Rimes, Shall be so much delighted with thy story, That they shall grieve, they liu'd not in these Times, To haue seene thee, their Sexes onely glory: So shalt thou flye aboue the vulgar Throng, Still to suruiue in my immortall Song. 8