- Walter Rawely of the middle Temple, in commendation of the Steele Glasse.
- Swete were the sauce, would please ech kind of tast,
- The life likewise, were pure that never swerved,
- For spyteful tongs, in cankred stomackes plaste,
- Deeme worst of things, which best (percase) deserved:
- But what for that? this medicine may suffyse,
- To scorne the rest, and seke to please the wise.
- Though sundry mindes, in sundry sorte do deeme,
- Yet worthiest wights, yelde prayse for every payne,
- But envious braynes, do nought (or light) esteme,
- Such stately steppes, as they cannot attaine.
- For who so reapes, renowne above the rest,
- With heapes of hate, shal surely be opprest.
- Wherefore to write, my censure of this booke,
- This Glasse of Steele, unpartially doth shewe,
- Abuses all, to such as in it looke,
- From prince to poore, from high estate to lowe,
- As for the verse, who lifts like trade to trye,
- I feare me much, shal hardly reache so high.