To the High and Noble Prince, George, Duke, Marquesse, and Earle of Buckingham

Never my Book's perfection did appeare,
Til I had got the name of Villars here.
Now 'tis so full, that when therein I look,
I see a Cloud of Glory fills my Book.
Here stand it stil to dignifie our Muse,
Your sober Hand-maid; who doth wisely chuse,
Your Name to be a Laureat Wreathe to Hir,
Who doth both love and feare you Honour'd Sir.
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