To the Queene

What Musicke shall we make to you?
To whome the strings of all men's harts
Make musicke of ten thousand parts:
In tune and measure true,
With straines and changes new.

How shall wee fraime a harmony
Worthie your eares, whose princely hands
Keepe harmony in sundry lands:
Whose people divers be,
In station and degree?
Heauen's tunes may onely please,
and not such aires as theise.

For you which downe from heauen are sent
Such peace vpon the earth to bring,
Haue heard ye quire of Angells sing:
and all the sphæres consent,
like a sweete instrument.

How then should theise harsh tunes you heare
Created of ye trubled ayer,
breed but distast--when you repaire--
to your celestiall eare?
So that this center here
for you no musicke fynds,
but harmony of mynds.