TO
MY FRIEND
Will. Davenant; upon
his Poem of Madagascar.
html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }What mighty Princes Poets are? those things
The great ones stick at, and our very Kings
Lay downe, they venter on; and with great ease,
Discover, conquer, what, and where they please.
Some Flegmatick Sea-Captaine, would have staid
For money now, or Victualls; not have waid
Anchor without'em; Thou (will) do'st not stay
So much as for a Wind, but go'st away,
Land'st, View'st the Country; fight'st, put'st all to rout,
Before another cou'd be putting out!
And now the newes in towne is; Dav'nant's come
From Madagascar, Fraught with Laurell home,
And welcome (will) for the first time, but prithee
In thy next Voyage, bring the Gold too with thee.
I. Suckling.