To M. Henry Lawes, The Excellent Composer Of His Lyrics.

Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere; Then if thy voice commingle with the string, I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing; Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three? Three, unto whom the whole world give applause; Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.