Epistle XVIII. To his School-Master Mr. W. H. upon his Poem call'd Conscientiae accusatricis Hypotyposis

Sir,

When I read your work, and thought upon,
How lively you had made description,
Of an accusing conscience, and did see,
How well each limn did with th' Archtipe agree.
I wonder'd how you could lim't out so well,
Since you b'experience can't it's horrour tell.

Trust me, I'ld praise it, but that I suppose,
My praise would make it more inglorious;
In love to th' work and work-man, I thought meet,
To make your verses stand on English feet.
But whe'r well done, or ill, I here submit
Unto your censure, both my self and it.

I'm man, I'm young, unlearn'd, and thereupon
I know, I cannot boast perfection.
In fetter'd tasks, wherein the fancy's tide,
Do what one can, the lustre won't abide:
No Ideoms kiss so well, but that there is
Between some phrases some Antithesis.

What e'r is good, in each unpolish'd line,
I count as yours, the faults alone are mine.
I wish each foot and line, as strong, and true;
As my desire to love, and honour you.

In 1644.