To her Grace, the duchess of Portsmouth.

Madam,

If Sophonisba received some applause upon the stage, I arrogate nothing from the merit of the poem but, as I ought with the humblest acknowledgments and profoundest gratitude, impute it to the favourable aspects of the court stars. But above all, I must pay my adorations to your Grace, who as you are the most beautiful, as well in the bright appearances of body as in the immortal splendours of an elevated soul, did shed mightier influence and darted on me a largess of glory answerable to your stock of beams. Hannibal himself whose hardy spirit never bowed but to the fair imperious Rosalinda, nay, he who in spite of beauty's charms durst gaze upon that sun with eagle eyes and tax her with a blemish, now making his approaches to your Grace, seems awed with the source of so many rays and dazzled with a presence so illustrious. He sees with new bleedings eyes more attractive than those of Rosalinda, something more delicate in your shape and lofty in your mien, an air so charming sweet that it is miraculous it should be majestic too. Smiles of more delightful shine than April sun’s, such softness and languishing as the almighty poet's hand cannot describe, nor painter’s pencil ever draw. For my own part I am resolved to look up to you daily and dedicate my life and labours to your Grace, to spend all the store of my yet unexhausted fancy in your unbounded fame. For I declare to be wreathed in laurel from head to foot is not comparable honour to that of being, Madam,

Your Grace’s most humble and devoted servant,

Nat. Lee.