An Apology

To finish what's begun, was my intent, My thoughts and my endeavours thereto bent; Essays I many made but still gave out, The more I mus'd, the more I was in doubt: The subject large my mind and body weak, With many moe discouragements did speak. All thoughts of further progress laid aside, Though oft perswaded, I as oft deny'd, At length resolv'd, when many years had past, To prosecute my story to the last; And for the same, I hours not few did spend, And weary lines (though lanke) I many pen'd: But 'fore I could accomplish my desire, My papers fell a prey to th' raging fire. And thus my pains (with better things) I lost, Which none had cause to wail, nor I to boast. No more I'le do, sith I have suffer'd wrack, Although my Monarchies their legs do lack: Nor matter is't this last, the world now sees, Hath many Ages been upon his knees.