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Epilogus.
Fame and Opinion like the two vvingd capOn Hermes head, do lift all Poets vp:
Some, though deseruing, yet aboue the Sphere
Of true impartiall censure, vvhose tun'd eare
Listens to all and can vvith iudgement say,
Others sing vvell, though Thracian Orpheus play.
Our Muse affects no excellence: if Fame tell
And through her shrill trompe at the Muses well
(Where the thrice trebled bench of learning sits
In strict examination of others wits)
Sound ours, thogh humbly straines, whose infant growth
Nor dares, nor will, with times hugd darlings quarrell,
Nor stand the lightning with the sacred Lawrell)
We rest content: yet thus farre may conceipt
Carry each labouring Artist, where the weight
Of his oyld taske is ouer, that his tongue
May like a father of his tender young
Speak natures lauguage and not be withstood,
When with our Muse he saith, that This is good.
FINIS.
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