Philosophicall fancies :: :: University of Virginia Library

But be it bad, or good, it is my owne,
Unlesse in Printing tis a Changeling grown.
Which sure I have no reason for to doubt,
It hath the same mark, when I put it out.
But be it faire, or brown, or black, or wilde,
I still must own it, 'cause it is my Childe.
And should my Neighbours say, 'tis a dull block,
Tis honestly begot, of harmlesse Stock.
By Motion in my Braine twas form'd, and bred,
By my industrious Study it was fed.
And by my busie Pen was cloath'd, though plain
The Garments be, yet are they without stain.
But be it nere so plain, not rich, and gay,
Phantasticall tis drest, the World will say.
The World thinks all is fine, that's in the Fashion,
Though it be old, if fashion'd with Translation.

They nere consider what becomes them best,
But think all Fooles, that are not Courtly drest.
O Nature, Nature, why dost thou create
So many Fooles, and so few wise didst make?
Good Nature, move their braine another way,
And then as wise as Beasts, perchance they may.