An Apologie For The Length Of The Following Panegyrick.[85]

When you are mistresse of the song, Mighty queen, to thinke it long, Were treason 'gainst that majesty Your Vertue wears. Your modesty Yet thinks it so. But ev'n that too --Infinite, since part of you-- New matter for our Muse supplies, And so allowes what it denies. Say then dread queen, how may we doe To mediate 'twixt your self and you? That so our sweetly temper'd song Nor be too sort, nor seeme to[o] long. Needs must your noble prayses' strength That made it long excuse the length.

TO THE QUEEN,