To Esme, Lord Aubigny

Is there a hope that man would thankful be,
If I should fail in gratitude to thee,
To whom I am so bound, loved Aubigny?
No, I do therefore call posterity
Into the debt; and reckon on her head,
How full of want, how swallow'd up, how dead
I and this muse had been, if thou hadst not
Lent timely succours, and new life begot:
So all reward or name, that grows to me
By her attempt, shall still be owing thee.
And than this same I know no abler way
To thank thy benefits: which is, to pay.