 | Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique |  |
To my dear Brother Mr. H. B.
Reading
thine unstrained Verse, oh how it rue'th,
That I ne followed Crambo from my youth!
And that I ne're consorted much with Those
Who use what ever's spoke, to clink ith' Close:
Had I done so, by this, I'de had the honour Sir,
T'have Rhym'd like him that nickt Nebuchadonosor
And then I wiss, I had not thus been puzzeld
To make Verse chyme, as if Dame Muse were muzzeld;
Didst see me tooth and nail (Hall) foot and leg,
Thou'dst swear my Worship were at mumble peg,
It comes so hard—Why sure 'twill vex ones Gizzard
To hunt for Rhyme like me, from A to izzard,
When started too, and I think brought about,
Tis ten to One there wants a foot—
And then to inch it out, and make it go,
I'me fain to say (Pox ont!) Dear Hall) or so.
That I ne followed Crambo from my youth!
And that I ne're consorted much with Those
Who use what ever's spoke, to clink ith' Close:
Had I done so, by this, I'de had the honour Sir,
T'have Rhym'd like him that nickt Nebuchadonosor
And then I wiss, I had not thus been puzzeld
To make Verse chyme, as if Dame Muse were muzzeld;
Didst see me tooth and nail (Hall) foot and leg,
Thou'dst swear my Worship were at mumble peg,
It comes so hard—Why sure 'twill vex ones Gizzard
To hunt for Rhyme like me, from A to izzard,
When started too, and I think brought about,
Tis ten to One there wants a foot—
And then to inch it out, and make it go,
I'me fain to say (Pox ont!) Dear Hall) or so.
Sometime my Brain's asleep, and words wo'nt troul
Longer (forsooth) then I do claw my Poul:
And prethee (Hall) what Muse can set a stitch,
When I am forc'd to scratch where't does not itch?
Longer (forsooth) then I do claw my Poul:
When I am forc'd to scratch where't does not itch?
Yet since rich Masques their Whifflers have who come
Not to set off the Shew, but make it Room:
So since th'attir'st thy self, and putt'st on Sandal
To walk abroad ith' World, Ile hold the Candle,
And like a Whiffler too, if any come,
And ask what are thy Vertues, answer-Mum;
As being conscious I should do thee wrong
More by my Talk than holding of my Tongue.
Not to set off the Shew, but make it Room:
So since th'attir'st thy self, and putt'st on Sandal
To walk abroad ith' World, Ile hold the Candle,
And like a Whiffler too, if any come,
And ask what are thy Vertues, answer-Mum;
As being conscious I should do thee wrong
More by my Talk than holding of my Tongue.
Yet if to Court or Droll in Tune and Mode
The Gallant, would be (fain) put in a rode,
Let him bestow (let's see) for the device on't
Look! I was going to tell him what's the Price on't;
But He (in time) as well as Setter forth,
Will find thy Book can ne're be sold to th'worth.
The Gallant, would be (fain) put in a rode,
Let him bestow (let's see) for the device on't
Look! I was going to tell him what's the Price on't;
But He (in time) as well as Setter forth,
Will find thy Book can ne're be sold to th'worth.
Norton Bold C.C.C. Oxon. S.
| Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique | |