The world that cannot deeme of worthy things,
    when I doe praise her, say I doe but flatter:
    so does the Cuckow, when the Mavis sings,
    begin his witlesse note apace to clatter.
But they that skill not of so heavenly matter,
    all that they know not, envy or admyre;
    rather then envy let them wonder at her,
    but not to deeme of her desert aspyre.
Deepe in the closet of my parts entyre,
    her worth is written with a golden quill:
    that me with heavenly fury doth inspire,
    and my glad mouth with her sweet prayses fill.
Which when as fame in her shrill trump shal thunder,
    let the world chose to envy or to wonder.