To My Most Deere and Dread Soveraigne James by the Grave of God King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland

T H oughts, fight no more, but now ( with Wit's accord
Yeeld al obedience to Art's rightest rule;
Then, like a constant treble-twisted cord,
Binde vp the sweet'st affections of my Soule,
And, in a Poesy giue them to, O no ,
They are too buse for such high Eccellence!
Yet (prostrate) giue them to him, and say so:
So, I may shunne dislike, you , insolence:
Great ( o too narrow is this name for thee )
King, ( yet too straite a stile for thy great worth)
And Monarch, ( this with it doth best agree )
Deigne to accept a Base base Wit brought forth
And base it is ( great Highnesse) in each line,
Because indeede it is too rightly mine.

His Maiestie's lesse then least, and most vnworthy Subiect:
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