Epistle XV. To his Friend I. B. Upon his Tragedy

Thou may'st well wonder, and my self should be
Dumb, if I should be dumb in praising thee:
Since I've occasion now to exercise
Sublimest thoughts, yet not hyperbolize.

But since we two are Brothers, and subscribe,
Both Voluntiers to the Poetick Tribe,
I dare not do't, lest any Dulman sayes,
We, by consent, do one another praise:
Yet dare applaud thy work, and thee in it,
So good in language, plot, and strength of wit,
That none but thou can equall't. Not a line,
But's thine, 'cause good, and good because 'tis thine.
So that my duller sight, can hardly see
Whether thou mak'st it exc'lent, or it thee.
Let those, whose anvil-heads, beat all delight,
Into a toil, at every line they write.
Now, vail to thee, and fairly yield the bayes;
Since all their works compar'd with thine are playes.
So far I like thy worth, that I should be
Intic'd if possible to flatter thee.

In 1652.