Pardon, _sweete flower of Matchles poetrie, <br />And fairest bud the red rose euer bare; <br />Although my Muse, devorst from deeper care, <br />Presents thee with a wanton Elegie. <br /> <br />Ne blame my verse of loose unchastitie <br />For painting forth the things that hidden are, <br />Since all men acte what I in speache declare, <br />Onlie induced with varietie. <br /> <br />Complants and praises euery one can write, <br />And passion out their pangu's in statlie rimes; <br />But of loues pleasures none did euer write, <br />That have succeeded in theis latter times. <br /> <br />Accept of it, Deare Lord, in gentle gree, <br />And better lynes, ere long, shall honor thee.<br /><br />Thomas Nashe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-right-honorable-the-lord-s/
