left to boast, 70
    Th’ vnlettered Turke, and rude Barbarian trades,
    Where HOMER sang his lofty Iliads;
    And this vaste volume of the world hath taught,
    Much may to passe in little time be brought. 
      As if to Symptoms we may credit giue,
    This very time, wherein we two now liue,
    Shall in the compasse, wound the Muses more,
    Then all the old English ignorance before;
    Base Balatry is so belou’d and sought,
    And those braue numbers are put by for naught, 80
    Which rarely read, were able to awake,
    Bodyes from graues, and to the ground to shake
    The wandring clouds, and to our men at armes,
    ’Gainst pikes and muskets were most powerfull charmes. 
    That, but I know, insuing ages shall,
    Raise her againe, who now is in her fall;
    And out of dust reduce our scattered rimes,
    Th’ reiected iewels of these slothfull times,
    Who with the Muses would misspend an hower,
    But let blind Gothish Barbarisme deuoure 90
    These feuerous Dogdays, blest by no record,
    But to be euerlastingly abhord. 
      If you vouchsafe rescription, stuffe your quill
    With naturall bountyes, and impart your skill,
    In the description of the place, that I,
    May become learned in the soyle thereby;
    Of noble Wyats health, and let me heare,
    The Gouernour; and how our people there,
    Increase and labour, what supplyes are sent,
    Which I confesse shall giue me much content; 100
    But you may saue your labour if you please,
    To write to me ought of your Sauages. 
    As sauage slaues be in great Britaine here,
    As any one that you can shew me there
    And though for this, Ile say I doe not thirst,
    Yet I should like it well to be the first,
    Whose numbers hence into Virginia flew,
    So (noble Sandis) for this time adue.

To my noble friend Master WILLIAM BROWNE, of the euill time

Deare friend, be silent and with patience see,
What this mad times Catastrophe will be;
The worlds first Wisemen certainly mistooke
Themselues, and spoke things quite beside the booke,
And that which they haue of said of God, vntrue,
Or else expect strange iudgement to insue. 
This Isle is a meere Bedlam, and therein,
We all lye rauing, mad in euery sinne,
And him the wisest most men use to call,
Who doth (alone) the maddest thing of all; 10
He whom the master of all wisedome found,
For a marckt foole, and so did him propound,
The time we liue in, to that passe is brought,
That only he a Censor now is thought;
And that base villaine, (not an age yet gone,)
Which a good man would not haue look’d vpon;
Now like a God, with diuine worship follow’d,