To the learned, and accomplisht Gentleman,
Maister Nicholas Blackleech,
of Grayes Inne.
O you, that know the tuch of true Conceat;
(Whose many gifts I neede not to repeat)
I vvrite these Lines; fruits of vnriper yeares;
Wherein my Muse no harder censure feares:
Hoping in gentle Worth, you will them take;
Not for the gift, but for the giuers sake.
