 | The Tragedy of Messallina, The Roman Emperesse |  |
To his worthy Friend Mr. Nathanael Richards, upon his Tragedy of Messallina.
Behold a Poet whose laborious QuillDictates his Makers prayse, above the skill
Of times Earth-minding Idolls muddy straine
(Base as the things they immitate) thy veine
(Approved friend) strikes dead the impious Times
Adored Vices and high raised Crimes
Which pulls swift vengeance downe; thy labour'd lines
Curbs Vice, crownes Vertue, gold from drosse refines
All gazing eyes may see thy Anchorite Muse
Delights in a conversion, not abuse
Romes mightie Whore by thee adornes the Stage:
For to convert not to corrupt this Age.
And they that (Messallina) thus pend sees
Must praise the Authors candor, thriftie Bees
Suck Hony out of weeds, her actions may
Have miracles for issue, if y'obay
Your jogging consciences that whispering say,
Be rul'd by this, instructing (Tragicke) Play.
Applaud that happy wit whose veines can stirre
Religions thoughts, though in a Theator.
Tho. Rawlins.
| The Tragedy of Messallina, The Roman Emperesse | |