To the Right Honourable, Charles, Viscount Moore, of Drogheda

Closetted up have you within your brest
Heroickly, what ever grace did rest
Amongst the Decy or the Consuls earst,
Regarded by the Poets when they verst:
Live doe againe Romes Emperours in you,
Each of their virtues seeing you ensue;
Soule being deck't with graces so divine,

Many may thinke that Rome in her doth shine,
On which reflecting, we their vertues see,
O, and their vices you avoiding flee:
Rome , rightly cal her so , sith shee affects,
Expressing vertue, by the fruit selects.
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