University of Virginia Library


87

[Let Codrus, that nauseous pretender to Wit]

Let Codrus, that nauseous pretender to Wit,
Condemn all my Works before Courtier and Cit;
I bear all with Patience, whatever he says,
And value as little his Scandal as Praise.
Vain-glory no longer my Genius does fire,
'Tis Interest alone tunes the Strings of my Lyre.
Integrity's nought but a plausible Sham,
For Money I Praise, and for Money I Damn.
Old politic Bards, for Fame have no itching,
The Apollo I court, is the Steam of a Kitchin.