Richard Fanshawe

“ The world, why do ye so delight in floods?
And kindling in a thousand hearts desire,
Quench his soft movings in your gentle bloods?
Ah! since so many live in flames for you,
Leave to be swans, growe salamanders too. ”

“ Threatning some great one's death—such light displayes
Her face, or like a saint that's crown'd with rayes.
Lady—what boots neglect of face, or hayre?
You must use art if you would growe less fayre.
Dear Brother, That you may see how Mr Fanshaw has spent his time here, I have sent you these verses, which are of his making, sence his coming hither, and hee presented them to my sister and mee. ”