Hail, noble Sir, sprung from great Hector's side Still keep thy march, 'till thou be dignifie 'Bove all thy mighty sires; whose temples round With ever-verdant lawrels Mars hath crown'd. Thou needst no Homer with his lofty rimes, To sing thy lasting fame to future times, Nor an Achilles, whose heroick worth Thou mightst in more heroick verse set forth, For since in arms and letters you excel Write your own acts, and that will do as well.
