 | New Epigrams, and a Satyre |  |
A Postscript.
If any bleere-eyde Carping Momus, chance,Hoping his owne opinion to aduance,
In reading these my lines, to taxe my Muse
with want of skill, or (which is worse) Abuse
Of any, who perhaps, deserues worse termes
Then here my want of age, or Art affirmes:
First, let him know, that I was neuer stor'd,
With those rich helpes, which Athens doth afford:
Next, let him lay aside his gally-Spleene,
And all things else, will without fault be seene.
| New Epigrams, and a Satyre | |