To the most renowmed and valiant Lord, the Lord Grey of Wilton

Most Noble Lord the pillor of my life, And Patrone of my Muses pupillage, Through whose large bountie poured on me rife, In the first season of my feeble age, I now doe liue, bound yours by vassalage: Sith nothing euer may redeeme, nor reaue Out of your endlesse debt so sure a gage, Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to receaue, Which in your noble hands for pledge I leaue, Of all the rest, that I am tyde t'account: Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weaue In fauadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount, And roughly wrought in an vnlearned Loome: The which vouchsafe dear Lord your fauorable doome