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LXI
TO NYSUS

How shall we please this Age? If in a Song
We put above six Lines, they count it long;
If we contract it to an Epigram,
As deep the dwarfish Poetry they damn;
If we write Plays, few see above an Act,
And those lewd Masks, or noisie Fops distract:
Let us write Satyr then, and at our ease
Vex th' ill-natur'd Fools we cannot please.