To my deere respected friend Mr. Beniamin Iohnson

Thou canst not dye, for though the stroake of death
Depriues the world of thy worst earthly part:
Yet when thy corps hath banished thy breath,
Thy liuing Muse shall still declare thy Art.
The fatall Sisters and the blessed Graces,
Were all thy friends at thy natiuity:
And in thy minde the Muses tooke their places,
Adoring thee with rare capacitie.
And all the Worthies of this worthy land,
Admires thy wondrous all admired worth,
Then how should I that cannot vnderstand
Thy worth, thy worthy worthinesse set forth.
Yet beare the boldnesse of the honest Sculler,
Whose worthlesse praise can fill thy praise no fuller.