Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

Qvite through this Iland hath my Motto rung,
And twenty dayes are past, since up I hung
My bold Impreza: which defiance throwes
At all the malice of faire Vertues foes.
The good approve it; and so crowne the Cause
Of this my Resolution, with applause:
That such as spight it, dare not to appeare,
In opposition to the Challenger.
Their Malice would enforce them; but, it lyes
Oppressed yet, with fearefull Cowardize;
For, they so arm'd have found me, that they feare,
I may (in spight of all their Enuy) beare
The Conquest from them: and upon the Face
Of their be-spotted Fame, stick more disgrace.

This, makes them Storme in private, Slander, Raile,
Threat, Libell, Rime, Detract; and to prevaile
Vpon my Patience, try their utmost Art,
But, I still mind my Mottoes latter part,
And Care not for it which more makes them chafe,
And still the more they fret, the more I laugh.

But, now their Envies have so well conspir'd,
That they have fram'd the Proiect they desir'd;
And tooke such course, that (if their word you take)
Shall move my Choller, and my Patience shake.

Forsooth, some Rimers they have hyr'd, to chew
Their Rancor into Balladry, and spew
Their blacke Despight, which to a drunken note,
They, in a hundred Tavernes, have by roate
Already belcht unto that Auditory,
Who are the fittest Trumpets of their Story.

When their Inventions (by the power Divine
Of much-inspiring Sacke and Claret wine)
Are ripened to the highest; then they say
The Stationer expects it ev'ry day:
And that he may a saving bargaine make,
(Aforehand) doth his Customers bespeake.

But when these Braine wormes crawling forth you spy,
(As pitty 'twere, such wit should smother'd lie)
They will bewray the Sires; and mak't appeare,
That Ignorance and Envy Parents were
Yo that despightfull Issue: So, that he
Who shall a Rush the lesse, esteeme of Me,
For ought there Writ: ev'n (He) is one of Them,
Whose Hate, and whose Affection I contemne.

The Instruments they get to serve the turne,
Are those, that are unworthy of my Scorne:
And if contend, or answer them I should;
It more might wrong me, then their Riming could,
As therefore, when an armed Souldier feeles
A testy Curre in vaine to gnaw his heeles;
He minds not Him: but spends his blowes upon
Those churlish Peasants, that did set him on.
So; I, that know these Dogges doe but their kind;
Well; let them barke, and snarle, and spend their wind,
Till they grow weary. But let them sit strong,
That urge them to it; or I'le lay along
Their high Top gallant, where each Groome shall see
How worthy scorne and infamy they be.
For, they who are their Patrons are such Foes,
As I may somewhat worthily oppose:
And I'le unmaske them so, that you shall spie
In them, Detractions true Anatomy.
Yea, whereas they have by their malice, thought
To have on me their spightfull pleasures wrought;

I'le from their Censures, an occasion take,
To show how other men a sport shall make
At all Detractions; So, those slaves undoe,
Who that base practise are inclin'd unto.

Raile they that list: for those men know not yet,
What mind I have; who thinke the man that writ
This Motto, can be ever brought to feare
Such poore fond things, as idle Carpers are;
Nay rather, from those slanders they shall raise,
I will advantage gather for my praise:
While they that in my shame would take delight,
Shall gnaw their flesh through vengeance and despight
To see how I, unmov'd their envy mocke,
And make of them this Ages laughing-stocke.

For, lest to have prevailed they should seeme;
And so grow wise men in their owne esteeme:
(Or, by their foolish brags, dishearten such,
Whose resolutions are not growne so much)
When I at leisure am; for Recreation,
I'le merry make my selfe, to their vexation;
Yet shall my Mirth from Malice be so free,
That though I bitter to the guilty be.
It shall appeare that I in love doe scourge them,
That of their foule Corruptions I may purge them.
And that it may be knowne how Vertue hath
A sting to punish, though not moov'd to wrath.

But goe; and for the Pamphlet seeke about,
For, yet ere night ('tis thought) it will come out.
Yet, when you finde it; Doe not looke for there
His wit alone, whose Name you see it beare:
(For though you nothing can collect from thence,
But foul-mouth'd Language, Rime and Impudence)
Yet there expect, (since 'tis the common cause
Of all Crowe-Poets, and Poeticke-Dawes,

Which I have toucht) that all the Brotherhood,
Will lend theit wits to make the Quarrell good.
For, to that purpose they are all combind;
Yea, to their strong Confed'racy are ioynd,
That Corporation, by whose Patronage,
Such Poetry hath flourisht in this Age:
And some beside, that dare not yet be knowne,
Haue favour, to this goodly Project showne.

But, let them joyne their force; For I had rather
Ten Millions should themselves against Me gather;
(And plot and practise for my overthrow)
Then be the Conqueror of one base Foe.
For, as mine enemies increasing be;
So, Resolution doth increase in mee:
And if I must have foes, my Fates shall friend me,
If great and noble enemies they send me.

But, whether on meane Foes, or great I light,
My Spirit will be greater then their spight.