Dedications, I: To His Very Friend, Master Richard Martin -
To whom shall I this dancing poem send,
This sudden, rash, half-capriole of my wit?
To you, first mover and sole cause of it,
Mine-own-selve's better half, my dearest friend.
Oh would you yet my Muse some honey lend
From your mellifluous tongue, whereon doth sit
Suada in majesty, that I may fit
These harsh beginnings with a sweeter end!
You know the modest sun full fifteen times
Blushing did rise and blushing did descend
While I in making of these ill-made rimes
My golden hours unthriftily did spend:
Yet, if in friendship you these numbers praise,
I will mispend another fifteen days.
This sudden, rash, half-capriole of my wit?
To you, first mover and sole cause of it,
Mine-own-selve's better half, my dearest friend.
Oh would you yet my Muse some honey lend
From your mellifluous tongue, whereon doth sit
Suada in majesty, that I may fit
These harsh beginnings with a sweeter end!
You know the modest sun full fifteen times
Blushing did rise and blushing did descend
While I in making of these ill-made rimes
My golden hours unthriftily did spend:
Yet, if in friendship you these numbers praise,
I will mispend another fifteen days.
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