Thomas Nashe (1567-1601 / England)

Perusing yesternight with idle eyes,
The Fairy Singers stately tuned verse:
And viewing after Chap-mens wonted guise,
What strange contents the title did rehearse.
I streight leapt ouer to the latter end,
Where like the queint Comædians of our time,
That when their Play is doone do fal to ryme,
I found short lines, to sundry Nobles pend.
Whom he as speciall Mirrours singled fourth,
To be the Patrons of his Poetry;
I read them all, and reuerenc't their worth,
Yet wondred he left out thy memory.
But therefore gest I he supprest thy name,
Because few words might not co[m]prise thy fame.