 | Seianus his Fall |  |
VPON THE SILENT Woman.
Heare you bad writers, and though you not see,I will informe you where you happy bee:
Prouide the most malicious thoughts you can,
And bend them all against some priuate man,
To bring him, not his vices, on the stage,
Your enuie shall be clad in so poore rage,
And your expressing of him shall be such,
That he himselfe shall thinke he hath no touch.
Where he that strongly writes, although he meane
To scourge but vices in a labour'd scene,
Yet priuate faults shall be so well exprest
As men doe act hem, that each priuate brest,
That findes these errors in it selfe, shall say,
He meant me, not my vices, in the play.
Franc. Beavmont.
| Seianus his Fall | |