Sonnet Xxxx Poem by E C Esquire

Some bewties make a god of flatterie,
And scorne
Eliziums
eternall types,
Nathes, I abhorre such faithles prophesie,
Least I be beaten with thy vertues stripes,
Wilt thou suruie another world to see?
Delias sweete Prophet shall the praises singe
Of bewties worth exemplified in thee,
And thy names honour in his sweete tunes ring:
Thy vertues Collin shall immortalize,
Collin chast vertues organ sweetst esteem'd,
When for
Elizas
name he did comprise
Such matter as inuentions wonder seem'd.
Thy vertues hee, thy bewties shall the other.
Christen a new, whiles I sit by and wonder.