To his honoured and most Ingenious friend Mr. Charles Cotton.

FOr brave comportment, wit without offence,
Words fully flowing, yet of influence:
Thou art that man of men, the man alone,
Worthy the Publique Admiration:
Who with thine owne eyes read'st what we doe write,
And giv'st our Numbers Euphonie, and weight.
Tel'st when a Verse springs high, how understood
To be, or not borne of the Royall-blood.
What State above, what Symmetrie below,
Lines have, or sho'd have, thou the best canst show.
For which (my Charles) it is my pride to be,
Not so much knowne, as to be lov'd of thee.
Long may I live so, and my wreath of Bayes,
Be lesse anothers Laurell, then thy praise.