1.

If from servile hope or love
I may prove
But so happy to be thought for
Such a one, whose greatest ease
Is to please,
Worthy Sir, I have all I sought for.

2.

For no itch of greater name,
Which some claim
By their verses, do I show it
To the world; nor to protest,
’Tis the best;
These are lean faults in a poet.

3.

Nor to make it serve to feed
At my need;
Nor to gain acquaintance by it;
Nor to ravish kind Atturneys
In their journies;
Nor to read it after diet.

4.

Far from me are all these aims;
Frantic claims,
To build weakness on and pity;
Only to yourself, and such
Whose true touch
Makes all good, let me seem witty.

3rd.

To the perfect gentleman, Sir Robert Townesend.