To the Patron of Poets, M. End. Porter

Let there be patrons, patrons like to thee,

Brave Porter! poets ne'er will wanting be:

Fabius and Cotta, Lentulus, all live

In thee, thou man of men! who here do'st give

Not only subject-matter for our wit,

But likewise oil of maintenance to it:

For which, before thy threshold, we'll lay down

Our thyrse for sceptre, and our bays for crown.

For, to say truth, all garlands are thy due:

The laurel, myrtle, oak, and ivy too.