University of Virginia Library

Epigram. 95 In Momum quendam.

Though gainst my Rimes thou art out-ragious,
Think'st thou I care for thy fantasticke fits?
Thou say'st my sence is as my selfe, Contagious,
'Tis Venemous, 'twill poyson yonger wits.
Although I know the world holds mee excused,
And that my pen needs no Apology:
I meane not for the method therein vsed,
Or that it sauours ought of Poetry,
But for I doe so libr'ally disclose,
And touch the vlcers of this vice-growne Age,
And them to laughter and to shame expose,
As if I seem'd possest with holy rage:
No, no, but let the Spartane speake for me,
Whose vse, I gladly imitate herein,
Hee lets his Sonne his drunken Seruant see,
That by the sight hee may avoid the sinne.
Like vse, may men make of my Epigrammes,
That when they see decipher'd here by me,
Other mens sinnes together with their shames,
By seeing others, may their owne foresee.
But O my ribald tearmes: No Momus, no,
Hereby my Muse seemes more commodious:
Is't shame to say? How much more then to do,
What by but naming seemes so odious?
Thus Momus, whilst thou labourst to peruert
What I haue labourd to a good intent
Well maist thou show the malice of thy heart,
But neuer make me the more male content,
Rather thou mak'st me proud to censure thus,
“Enuy is onely 'gainst the vertuous.