 | The Dvke of Millaine |  |
VPON THIS WORKE OF HIS beloued friend the Avthor.
I am
snap't already, and may goe my way;
The Poet-Critick's come; I heare him say,
This Yovth's mistooke, The Authors Worke's a Play.
The Poet-Critick's come; I heare him say,
This Yovth's mistooke, The Authors Worke's a Play.
He could not misse it; he will strait appeare
At such a baite; Twas laid on purpose there
To take the vermine, and I haue him here.
At such a baite; Twas laid on purpose there
To take the vermine, and I haue him here.
Sirra, you wilbe nibling; a small bitt,
(a sillable) when yo' are i' the hungry fitt,
Will serue to stay the stomacke of your witt.
(a sillable) when yo' are i' the hungry fitt,
Will serue to stay the stomacke of your witt.
Foole; Knaue; what's worse? for worse cannot depraue thee.
And were the diuell now instantly to haue thee,
Thou canst not instance such a worke to saue thee.
And were the diuell now instantly to haue thee,
Thou canst not instance such a worke to saue thee.
'Mongst all the ballets which thou dost compose,
And what thou stil'st thy Poems, ill as those,
And void of rime, and reason, thy worse Prose.
And what thou stil'st thy Poems, ill as those,
And void of rime, and reason, thy worse Prose.
Yet like a rude Iack-sauce in Poesie,
With thoughts vnblest, and hand vnmanerly,
Rauishing branches from Apoll'os tree.
With thoughts vnblest, and hand vnmanerly,
Rauishing branches from Apoll'os tree.
Thou mak'st a garland (for thy touch vnfit)
And boldly deck'st thy pig-brain'd sconce with it,
As if it were the Supreme Head of wit.
And boldly deck'st thy pig-brain'd sconce with it,
As if it were the Supreme Head of wit.
The blameles Muses blush; who not allow
That reuerend Order, to each vulgar brow,
Whose sinfull touch prophanes the holy Bough.
That reuerend Order, to each vulgar brow,
Whose sinfull touch prophanes the holy Bough.
Hence (shallow Prophet) and admire the straine
Of thine owne Pen, or thy poore Copesinat's vaine.
This Piece too carious is, for thy course braine.
Of thine owne Pen, or thy poore Copesinat's vaine.
This Piece too carious is, for thy course braine.
Here witt (more fortunate) is ioyn'd with Art,
And that most sacred Frenzie beares a part
Infus'd by Nature in the Poe'ts heart.
And that most sacred Frenzie beares a part
Infus'd by Nature in the Poe'ts heart.
Here, may the Puny-wits themselues direct,
Here, may the Wisest find what to affect;
And Kings may learne their proper Dialect.
Here, may the Wisest find what to affect;
And Kings may learne their proper Dialect.
On then, deare friend, Thy Pen thy Name shall spread;
And should'st thou write, while thou shalt not be read,
Thy Muse must labour, when thy Hand is dead.
And should'st thou write, while thou shalt not be read,
Thy Muse must labour, when thy Hand is dead.
W. B.
| The Dvke of Millaine | |