Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,

Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other.

Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch

Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;

Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such,

As passing all conceit, needs no defence.

Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound,

That Phœbus' lute, the queen of music, makes;

And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd,

Whenas himself to singing he betakes.