Whom Helicon, and Tempe doe adorne With sugred gifts of divine poetrie, Let no detracting Zoilus him scorne, Thinking thereby to cure his maladie: For he that once doth Homers pen dispraise, Cannot himselfe to Laureats honour raise. Then thou, that art the author of this booke, Send forth that sacred fume from out thy braine, That thereon well-disposed wits may looke, And say, Give me Tabacco once againe: For Castile nere did such a pipe afford Of Trinidade upon mine honest word.
