Ever an Herb though but a little seede,
Doth vegetably grow apace indeed;
With sappe of heavenly dew, you watred well,
A tree have grown, in vertues that excell,
Rendring you a still growing nerethelesse,
Duly till you attaine true blessednesse.

Herbs lively flourishing will still be gree
Ever so are your noble vertues seene:
Rightly doth greene, they say, yeeld to the eye
Best colour'd, that doth help the sight thereby:
Ever your vertues lend a sweet delight,
Right vertuous Sir, unto that happy sight,
That must confesse you dur'd a true Herb right.