 | Miscellaneous works of George Wither |  |
4
To the scornfully Censorious.
What have we here? saies pride-puft-ignorance,
More Poetry? yes foole; more, too, perchance,
Then thou wilt like; and, more, for thee to jeere,
Till foaming at thy mouth, thy Braines appeare
Through witlesse Choler, when thy soule shall dread,
What, thou with scornfull disrespect, hast read.
More Poetry? yes foole; more, too, perchance,
Then thou wilt like; and, more, for thee to jeere,
Till foaming at thy mouth, thy Braines appeare
Through witlesse Choler, when thy soule shall dread,
What, thou with scornfull disrespect, hast read.
But (saies a second) this, eight months agoe,
Appear'd in Manuscript: well, grant it so;
What is infer'd? the Author, doe not blame,
That, untill now, you have not seen the same;
For, Truth gets License hardly; and, the Presse
Was, then, at your disposure, not at his.
Who (saies a third) is he, that, in this wise,
Our Genius personates? A fourth, replies,
The matter, and the Phrase, their Author shew:
SIRS, if ye guesse right, much good doe it you.
If you, be therewith pleased, so, is he;
If not, he, therewith troubled will not be:
For, he regards not, so much, how to please,
As, how to cure the generall disease.
Appear'd in Manuscript: well, grant it so;
What is infer'd? the Author, doe not blame,
That, untill now, you have not seen the same;
For, Truth gets License hardly; and, the Presse
Was, then, at your disposure, not at his.
Who (saies a third) is he, that, in this wise,
Our Genius personates? A fourth, replies,
The matter, and the Phrase, their Author shew:
SIRS, if ye guesse right, much good doe it you.
If you, be therewith pleased, so, is he;
If not, he, therewith troubled will not be:
For, he regards not, so much, how to please,
As, how to cure the generall disease.
That, is his chiefest aime: to that intent,
Himselfe, and fortunes, he hath freely spent,
As well as time and words; which, when he dies,
Will gaine him, what your malice yet denies.
If, you, hereby, will reap no benefit,
The maine obstruction, will be want of wit;
Or, in the wanting, rather, of his grace;
Whose love, ye sleighted, when it offer'd was.
Himselfe, and fortunes, he hath freely spent,
As well as time and words; which, when he dies,
Will gaine him, what your malice yet denies.
If, you, hereby, will reap no benefit,
The maine obstruction, will be want of wit;
Or, in the wanting, rather, of his grace;
Whose love, ye sleighted, when it offer'd was.
Read, if ye list; But, who compos'd the same,
Inquire not: for, (although to shew his Name
He never was afraid) it sutes not now,
With his designe, that he should tell it you;
Nor, can it be materiall, so you heed,
And prudently consider what ye read:
For, whom, or whosoere, he may appeare,
That, will be true, which he expresseth here.
Inquire not: for, (although to shew his Name
He never was afraid) it sutes not now,
With his designe, that he should tell it you;
Nor, can it be materiall, so you heed,
And prudently consider what ye read:
For, whom, or whosoere, he may appeare,
That, will be true, which he expresseth here.
| Miscellaneous works of George Wither | |