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Oh truant Muſe what ſhalbe thy amends,
For thy neglect of truth in beauty di’d?
Both truth and beauty on my loue depends:
So doſt thou too,and therein dignifi’d:
Make anſwere Muſe,wilt thou not haply ſaie,
Truth needs no collour with his collour fixt,
Beautie no penſell,beauties truth to lay:
But beſt is beſt,if neuer intermixt.
Becauſe he needs no praiſe,wilt thou be dumb?
Excuſe not ſilence ſo,for’t lies in thee,
To make him much out-liue a gilded tombe:
And to be praiſd of ages yet to be.
   Then do thy office Muſe,I teach thee how,
   To make him ſeeme long hence,as he ſhowes now.

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