VIII. If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, Because thou lovest the one, and I the other. Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute¹ doth ravish human sense； Spenser to me, whose deep conceit² is such As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. Thou lovest to bear the sweet melodious³ sound That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes； And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd Whenas himself to singing he betakes. One god is god of both, as poets feign⁴； One knight⁵ loves both, and both in thee remain.

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