To the right honourable the Lord of Buckhurst

In vain I thinke right honourable Lord, By this rude rime to memorize thy name; Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record, In golden verse, worthy immortal fame: Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same) Thy gracious Souerain praises to compile. And her imperiall Maiestie to frame, In loftie numbers and heroicke stile. But sith thou maist not so, giue leaue a while To baser wit his power therein to spend, Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file, And vnaduised ouersights amend. But euermore vouchsafe it to maintaine Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.