189
SONNET I.
To his friend Maister R. L. In praise of Musique and Poetrie.
If Musique and sweet Poetrie agree,
As they must needes (the Sister and the Brother)
Then must the Loue be great, twixt thee and mee,
Because thou lou'st the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is deare; whose heauenly tuch
Vpon the Lute, doeth rauish humaine sense:
Spenser to mee; whose deepe Conceit is such,
As passing all Conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lou'st to heare the sweete melodious sound,
That Phœbus Lute (the Queene of Musique) makes:
And I in deepe Delight am chiefly drownd.
When as himselfe to singing he betakes.
One God is God of Both (as Poets faigne)
One Knight loues Both, and Both in thee remaine.
SONNET II.
Against the Dispraysers of Poetrie.
Chaucer is dead; and Gower lyes in graue;
The Earle of Surrey, long agoe is gone;
Sir Philip Sidneis soule, the Heauens haue;
George Gascoigne him beforne, was tomb'd in stone.
Yet, tho their Bodies lye full low in ground,
(As euery thing must dye, that earst was borne)
Their liuing fame, no Fortune can confound;
Nor euer shall their Labours be forlorne.
And you, that discommend sweete Poetrie,
(So that the Subiect of the same be good)
Here may you see, your fond simplicitie;
Sith Kings haue fauord it, of royall Blood.
The King of Scots (now liuing) is a Poet,
As his Lepatno, and his Furies shoe it.
