To M[r]. T. W.

PREGNANT again with th’ old twins, Hope and Fear,

Oft have I asked for thee, both how and where

Thou wert; and what my hopes of letters were;

As in our streets sly beggars narrowly

Watch motions of the giver’s hand or eye,

And evermore conceive some hope thereby.

And now thy alms is given, thy letter ’s read,

The body risen again, the which was dead,

And thy poor starveling bountifully fed.

After this banquet my soul doth say grace,

And praise thee for ’t, and zealously embrace

Thy love, though I think thy love in this case

To be as gluttons, which say ’midst their meat,

They love that best of which they most do eat.