The Authours Epiloge to his Booke

THe countnance of this Noble Cowntesse marck
When she thy Verse with eie that Saphire like
Doth shine suruayes, let be thy onely carck
To note hir Lookes: and if she ought mislike
Say that thou shouldst haue hid it from hir sight,
Thy Authour made the best for hir delight,
The woorst he willde in couert scrole to lurke
Vntill the Beare were ouerlickt afresh,
For why in déepe this hastie hatched wurke
Resembleth much the shapelesse lumpe of flesh
That Beares bring forth: So when I lick thée ouer
Thou shalt (I trust) thy perfite shape recouer.