rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses

Hol. I sir, and very learned

Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine.
If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue?
Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed.
Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue.
Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers
bowed.
Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend.
If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend.
All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull
thunder.
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong,
That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue

Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the
accent. Let me superuise the cangenet

Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the
elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius
Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but
for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the
ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the