University of Virginia Library

To conclude now.

Me thinkes some perfumde Polititian, that practiseth more the Pennie than the Penne, rashly reades, and rudely returnes, this fooles boult, Tis ballade stuffe: to him, I answere thus.

Cammelion-like thy minde misgiues,
All coulour's like thy owne:
Thy greene goose wit no more atchiues,
Then what thy trade hath knowne,
Thou politicke presaging Asse
Forbeare to kicke at kindnesse:
With crooked limmes, and looke of brasse,
And eyes bebleard with blindnesse:
Trot on the hoofe, deuis'd in prose,
While these as stanzes stayes
To out rime thy ill reason'd cloze
In thy corruptiue prayse:
Conclude in charitie thou foole,
That think'st thy selfe most wise:
Thy wit, not worthie's any Schoole,
T'is salt and too precise.