So to dead Hector boys may do disgrace,
That durst not look upon his living face;
So worst of men behind their betters’ back
May stretch mens names and credit on the rack.
Good friend, our general tie to him that’s gone
Should love the man that yearlie doth him moane:
The author’s zeal and place he now doth hold,
His love and duty makes him be thus bold
To offer this poor mite, his anniverse
Unto his good great master’s sacred hearse;
The which he doth with privilege of name,
Whilst others, ’midst their ale, in corners blame.
A pennyworth in print they never made,
Yet think themselves as good as Pond or Dade.
One anniverse, when thou hast done thus twice,
Thy words among the best will be of PRICE.