Great honour'd Lord, So great your worthinesse,
Ensuing it I cannot well expresse,
O noble Sir, your body cannot doe
Rightly those workes your soule would reach unto;
Goe on, although I cannot well declare,
Entring your vertues lively, yet they'r rare

Bigger the redges of the heart must be,
Right noble Sir, that comprehending thee;
In figure to the life can set thee forth,
Declaring of your noblenesse and worth;
Great store of vertues still, and of great grace,
Ever remarkeable are in your face,
So bigger redges to containe your race.