 | The Rebellion |  |
To the Author on his Rebellion.
Thy Play I ne're saw: what shall I say then?I in my vote, must doe as other men,
And praise those things to all, which common Fame
Does boast of, such a hopefull growing flame,
Which in dispight of flattery shall shine,
Till Envy at thy Glory doe repine:
And on Pernassus cliffie top shall stand,
Directing wandring wits to wish'd for Land;
Like a Beacon o'th' Muses Hill remaine,
That still doth burne, not lesser light retaine.
To shew that other wits, compar'd with thee,
Is but Rebellion i'th' high'st degree.
For from thy Labours (thus much I doe scan)
A Tayler is ennobled to a man.
R. W.
| The Rebellion | |