 | Chrestoleros |  |
Epigr. 21. In Momum.
Momus to be a Poet Lawreate,Hath straynde his wits, through an yron grate.
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And golden verses, and all kindes of veynes,
Now to the presse he presseth hastely,
To sell his friendes stinking eternitie.
For who would be eternall in such fashion,
To be a witnesse to his condemnation.
| Chrestoleros | |