Admit our magique then by which wee doe
Make you appeere to us, and us to you,
Supplying all the Muses in you twoe.
Wee doe consider noe flower that is sweet,
20But wee your breath in that exhaling meet,
And as true types of you, them humbly greet.
Heere in our Nightingales we heere you singe
Who soe doe make the whole yeare through a springe,
And save us from the feare of Autumns stinge.
25In Anchors calme face wee your smoothnes see,