Classic Poem

Fauorer of Vertue, Master

Fulke Greuill.

I Doe not here vpon this hum'rous Stage,
Bring my transformed Verse, apparelled
With others passions, or with others rage;
With loues, with wounds, with factions furnished:
But here present thee, onely modelled
In this poore frame, the forme of mine owne heart:
Where, to reuiue my selfe, my Muse is led
With motions of her owne, t'act her owne part;
Striuing to make her now contemned Art,
As faire t'her selfe as possibly she can;
Lest, seeming of no force, of no desert,
She might repent the course that she began;
And, with these times of dissolution, fall
From Goodnesse, Vertue, Glory, Fame and all.