Go e Drake of England, Doue of Italie
Vnfolde what ever Neptune's armes infolde
Travell the Earth (as Phaebus doth the skie)
Till you begette newe Worlds vpon this olde.

Would any wonders see, yet liue at rest,
Nor hazard life vpon a dangerous shelfe?
Behold, thou bear'st a World within thy brest,
Take ship at-home, and sayle about thy selfe.

This Paper-Bark may be thy Golden-Hinde,
Davies the Drake and true discou'rer is,
The end, that thou-thy-selfe thy-selfe maist finde;
The prize and pleasure thine, the trauell his:
See here display'd, as plaine as knowledge can
This litle World, this wondrous Ile of Man.

B E yond the reach of vulgar intellect,
Inbred by Nature, but refin'd by Art,
Doth wisdome's Heyre this monument erect,
Grace't with what ere the Graces can impart.
Here, Wit's not soild with looser blandishment.
The Subiect pure, abstruse, and worthy paine,
Annatomizing civill goverment,
And, of the Soule what Reason can attaine.
The many sweetes herein contained be,
Epitomiz'd, would aske too large Narration
To be compris'd within this narrow station
Reade then the Worke: when, if thou canst not see
Th' infolded flame; be rapt with admiration,
But censure not: for, Owles haue bleared eies,
Dazled with every Starre that doth arise.