Classic Poem

To my al to beloued friend, Thomas Butler Esquire

CANNOT leaue thee out, sith I am in
The lists of thine affection; nor can I
So put thee out with coulors masculine
But Truth may say I do the life bely
To me so faire's the face of thy desart
That if my lines should reach but to thy right
I should bee thought to flatter by mine arte;
And shadowes would but wrong what is so bright
Then in a line thee to deliniate,
Thou art the antitype of what I hate.