Thamis _nere heard a Song equall to this, Although the Swan that ow'd this present quill Sung to that Eccho, her owne Epitaph As proude to die, and render up her wing To Venus Swan, who doth more pleasing sing, Produce thy worke & tell the powerfull tale. Of naked Cupid, and his mothers will My selfe I doe confine from_ Helicon, _As loath to see the other Muses nine, So imodestlie eye shoot, and gaze uppon Their new borne enuie: this tenth Muse of thine, Which in my selfe I doe in thee admire, As_ Aesops _Satire the refulgent fire, Which may me burn, (I mean with amorous flame In reading, as the kissing that did him_. _And happie Mirrha that he rips thy shame, Since he so queintly doth expresse thy sin, Many would write, but see mens workes so rare, That of their owne they instantly dispaire._ Robert Glouer. _To his esteemed friend._ W.B. _Not for our friendship, or for hope of gaine Doth my pen run so swiftly in thy praise: Court-seruile flatterie I doe disdaine, "Enuie like Treason, stil it selfe betraies. This worke Detractions sting, doth disinherit: He that giues thee all praise, giues but thy merrit._ Lewes Machin. To his respected friend. W.B. _Poet, nor art thou without due desert, stil'd by that name: Though folly smile, and enuy frowne, to heare the same. Yet those who read thy worke with due respect, Will place thee with the worthiest of that sect. Then let not ignorance, nor enuie mooue thee Thou hast done well, they do not that reproue thee: Yet some (true worth nere wants an opposite) will Carpers be: Grieue not at this, not vertues selfe can scape their obloquie, But giue the raynes vnto these baser spirits, Whose Iudgements cannot paralell thy merrits, Such fooles (to seeme iudicious) take in hand, To censure what they doe not vnderstand._ _Yet cannot they detract, or wrong thy worth, maugre their spight: For thou doost chaunt incestuous_ Myrrha _forth, with such delight, And with such gould[=e] phrase gild'st ore her crime That what's moste diabolicall, seemes deuine. and who so but begins the same to reade Each powerfull line, attracts him to proceede. Then since he best deserues the Palme to weare, Who wins the same: Doe thou alone injoy those sweets, which beare thy Mirrhas name. And euer weare in memorie of her, an anademe of odoriferous_ Mirrhe, _and let_ Apollo, _thinke it no dispraise, To weare thy_ Mirrhe, _& ioyne it with his bayes._ William Bagnall. Mirrha, _The Mother of A_- donis.