Classic Poem

To my Cosen T.F.

Thou feedst on Bakon I admire
Thou art no fatter then
Nor like unto thy Dam nor Site
But Skelliton of Men.

Yet since thy Features well agree
With His that wears a Crowne
It were Presumption in me
To Coat thee 'thout Renowne.

Thy Parts I must confess excell
All Theirs of Thy Alies
Such wit and Learning in Thee dwell
Thou bearst away the Prise.

Though in thy meagre Cheeks appeer
Deep furrows Lines of Grace
By learned students held most deere
As honoring the face.

Philosophy in Thred bare weeds
Sets forth Her Clients so
That Praises should from inward deeds
Not out ward Glittrings flowe.

Fare well deer Cosen this suffize
To make the world Confess
Thou art not only Kittchen wise
But fed with Sciences —