100. Confidence.
1
Could I imagine how I might
Destroy my foes in thinking,
Or draw their bloods by drinking,
I'de stay at home, and in an Angle fight.
2
Yet may I triumph o're the times
With my laborious Quill
(While I my self sit still)
With measur'd Rhetorick, and melodious rhimes.
3
Then arm thy self Vrania,
And flee to every Zone
That Mortals tread upon.
Surround the Globe, and in their fansies play.
4
Sprout forth young sprig of tender Wit,
Well fledg'd with Dorick strains,
Flee swiftly from my brains,
And let the wurld see I'm not curb'd by it.
5
Grow Darts on thy ignoble Stem,
That wisely may resist
Each proud Antagonist;
And tell thy foes thou wilt not stoop to them.