TO THE RIGHT honourable PHILIP Earl of Pembroke and Mountgomery, Baron HERBERT of Cardiff and Shurland, Lord PAR and ROSSE of Kendal, Lord Fitzhugh Marmion, and Saint Quintine, Lord Warden of the Staneries, in the county of Devon and Cornwall, Lord High Steward of the duchy of Cornwall, chancellor of the university of Oxford, Lord Lieutenant of the counties of Kent, Cornwall and Wilts: Lord chamberlain of his majesty's most honourable household, Knight of the most noble order of the Garter, and one of his majesty's most honourable privy counsel.  
Upon his lordship's Election of Chancellor of the university of Oxford.  
My LORD,  
WHen Studies now are blasted, and the times  
Place us in false lights, and see Arts as Crimes,  
When to heap knowledge is but thought to fill  
The mind with more Advantage to do ill:  
When all your honoured brother's choice and store  
Of learned Remaines with sweat and charge fetchtore,  
Are thought but useless pieces: and some trust  
To see our schools mingled with abbey dust.  
That now you dare receive us, and profess  
Yourself our Patron, makes you come no less,  
Than a new Founder; whilst we all allow,  
What was Defence before, is Building now.  
And this you were reserved for, set a part  
For times of hazard; as the Shield and Dart  
Laid up in store to be extracted thence,  
When serious need shall ask some tried Defence;  
And who more fit to manage the gowns cause  
Then you, whose even life may dare the laws,  
And the lawmakers too: in whom the Great  
Is twisted with the Good as Light with Heat;  
What though your sadder cares do not profess  
To find the Circles squaring, or to guess  
How many sands within a grain or two  
Will fill the world, these speculations do  
Steal man from man; You're he that can suggest  
True Rules, and fashion manners to the best:  
You can preserve our Charters from the wrongs  
Of the untaught town, as far as now the tongue  
Doth from their understanding, You can give  
Freedom to men, and make that freedom live;  
And divert hate from the now hated Arts,  
These are your great endowments, these your parts,  
And 'tis our honest Boast, when this we scan,  
We give a Title, but receive a Man.  
Your lordship's most honoured humble Servant William Cartwright.   

Printed for T. W. 1641.