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The works of Sr William Davenant

... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies
  

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To Edward Earl of Dorset.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To Edward Earl of Dorset.

Ah, What are Poets? Why is that great Law
Conceal'd, by which their numbers seek to awe
The Soules of Men; Poets! whom love of Praise
A Mistress smile, or a small Twigg of Bayes,

317

Can lift to such a pride as strait they dreame
The Worlds chiefe care is to consider them.
Of this fond race (my Lord) am I; who think
(since your rich Wine did purify my Ink)
Though you were nobly summon'd now to fight
In single rescue of a Nations right,
Or chosen now, with popular applause,
To multiply, or else to alter Lawes,
Yet you should stay to tread the Lists, or sit
In Councill, till you read what I have writ:
To this presumptuous glory am I grown,
Since you adorn'd my Muse and made her known.
And to this trouble you your self betray
By planting still new Nurseries of Bay.
But happy he that can securely please
His courser Soul with ignorance and ease;
That knowes no more of Nature then what yields
Growth to his Heards, and Summer to his Fields.
That Studies Art but for his wooing Cloathes;
Whose Country-Courage is his hunting Oathes.
This Man shall rest untroubled with the feare
Least Orpheus useless Sons should vex his Eare:
Whilst you must suffer still, and all you get,
By ceaseless Courtships from afflicting Wit,
Is only, that when Time should rest his Feet,
The Windes shall cease to breathe, and Flouds to meet,
We wisely have resolv'd that your great Name
Shall make the last discourse of Dying Fame.