 | The Jealous Lovers |  |
To his deare friend Mr. Thomas Randolph, on his Comedy called, The Jealous Lovers.
Friend, I must grieve your poems injur'd beBy that rare vice in poets, Modestie.
If you dislike the issues of your pen,
You have invention, but no judgement then
You able are to write, but 'tis as true,
Those that were there can judge as well as you.
You onely think your gold adulterate,
When every scale of judgement findes it weight,
And every touchstone perfect. This I'le say,
You contradict the name of your own play:
You are no lover of the lines you writ,
Yet you are jealous still of your own wit.
Rich. Benefield, T. C.
| The Jealous Lovers | |