---------------------------------------------------------
[T]HE F[A]mou[S] His[T]ori[E] of T[R]roylus and Cresseid. ...........................
. .<= 4 =>
.
. [T] H E F
. [A] m o u
. [S] H i s
. [T] o r i
. [E] o f T
. [R] r o y
. .l .u s a
. .n .d C r
. .e .s s e
. .i .d.
.
[TASTER] 4
..........................................................
Excel(L)ently expressing {T}he beginning of th{E}ir loves,
with the c{O}nceited wooing of {P}andarus Prince of (L)itia

Written by Wi(L)liam Sh(A)kes(P)ear(E) (L)ONDON ................................................
. . . . . . <= 16 =>
.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . E x c e l
. (L) e n t l y e x p r e s s i n g
. {T} h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h
. {E} i r l o v e s,w i t h t h e c
. {O} n c e i t e d w o o i n g o f
. {P} a n d a r u s P r i n c e o f
. (L) i t i a W r i t t e n b y W i
. (L) l i a m S h(A)k e s(P)e a r(E)
. (L) O N D O N
.
{POET} -16
(APE) 4
....................................................
Imprinted by G. Eld for R. Bonian and H. Walley,
and are to be sold at the spred Eagle in Paules
Church-yeard, over against the great North-doore. 1609 ....................................................
. A neuer writer, to an euer reader. *NEWES* ....................................................
ETernall rea[DE]r, yo[U] hau[E] {H}ee[R|E} a n[E|W} .........................................
. <= 4 =>
.
. . . .E. T
. e .r n. a
. l .l r. e
. a [D E] r,
. y o [U] h
. a u [E]{H}
. e e [R]{E}
. a n [E]{W}
.
[D/E.UERE] 4 : Prob. in first line ~ 1 in 470 .........................................
play, neuer stal'd with the Stage,
neuer clapper-clawd with the palmes
of the vulger, and yet passin[G] {FUL}l of
the palme comicall; for it is a bi[R]th of
your braine, that neuer vnder-took[E] any
thing commicall, vainely: A{N}d were b[U]t
the vaine names
.........................................
. . . . . . <= 33 =>
.
. yetpassin [G]{FUL} lofthepalmecomicallf
. oritisabi [R] tho .fyourbrainethatneuer
. vndertook [E] any .thingcommicallvainel
. yAndwereb [U] the .vainenames
.........................................
A{N}d were b[U]t the vaine names of comm{E}dies
changde for the titles of Co{M}modities, or of
Playes for Pleas; y{O}u should see all those
grand censors, that now stile them such vanities,
flock to them for the maine grace of their grauitie[S]:
especially this authors Commedies, that are so fram'd
to the life, that they seru[E] for the most common
Commentaries, of all th{E} actions of our liues, shew-
ing such a [D]exteritie, and power of witte, that the most
{D}isplea[SED] with Playes, are pleasd with his Commedies.
And all such dull a{N}d heau{Y}-witted worldlings, as wer{E}
neuer capable of the witte of a Co{M}medie, comming by
r{E}port of them t{O} his representations, haue found that .........................................
{NEMO} 28,28
.........................................
witte there, that they neue{R} found in them-selues, and
haue parted better wittied then they came: feeling an
edge of witte set vpon them, more then euer they
dreamd they had braine to grinde it on. So much and
such sauored salt of witte is in his Commedies, that they
seeme (for their height of pleasure) to be borne in that
sea that brought forth Venus. Amongst all there is
none more witty then this: And had I time I would
comment vpon it, though I know it needs not, (for so
much as will make you thinke your testerne well be-
stowd) but for so much worth, as euen poore I know to
be stuft in it. It [DES]erues such a labour, as well as
the best Commedy in Terence or Plautus. And beleeue this,
that when hee is gone, and his Commedies out of sale,
you will scramble f{O}r the{M}, and s{E}t vp a {N}ew English
Inquisition. Take this for a warning, and at the perrill of
your pleasures losse, and Iudgements, refuse not, nor like
this th{E} lesse, for not being sullie[D], with the smoaky
breath of the multitu{D}e; but thanke fortune for th[E] scape
it hath made amongst you. Since b{Y} the grand possessors
will[S] I beleeue you should haue p[RAYD] f{O}r th{E|M}
rath{E}r the{N} beene p[RAYD]. And so I leaue all such to
bee p[RAYD] fo{R} (for the states of their wits healths)
that will not praise it.

Vale.
...........................................
{NEMO} . -5,-5
{E.DYER} 66,55 : Prob. of both ~ 1 in 325
[SED] 66,-55,1,-1
[DYAR] -1,-1,-1
------------------------------------------------- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Dyer

<<[S]ir {E}dward {DYER} (October 1543 – May 1607) was an English courtier and poet. His first patron was Robert Dudley. Sir [PHILI]p [S]idney bequeathed his books equally between {FUL}ke [GREU]ille and {DYER}. Among the poems in England's Helicon (1600)
, signed [S.E.D.] is the charming pastoral "My [PHILLI S.] hath the morninge sunne," but this comes from the PhilliS of {T}homas {LODGE}. {DYER} was made steward of Woodstock in 1570. Once universally accepted as his: "My Mynde to me a kingdome is",
Steven W. May now considers as possibly written by Edward de Vere. In 1943 Alden Brooks proposed [S]ir {E}dward {DYER} as a Shakespeare candidate in his book Will Shakspere and the Dyer’s Hand.

In 1589, {DYER} was sent to Denmark. He was then knighted and made Chancellor of the Order of the Garter in 1596. William Oldys said that he "would not stoop to fawn," and some of his verses seem to show that he disliked the pressures of life at court.
Under James I he lost the stewardship of Woodstock around 1604. He died in 1607 and was buried in the chancel of St Saviour's, Southwark, on 11 May 1607.

Anthony Wood (1632 – 1695) says that many thought Dyer to be a Rosicrucian, and that he was a firm believer in alchemy. He had a great reputation as a poet among his contemporaries, but very little of his work has survived. George Puttenham, in the
Arte of English Poesie speaks of "Maister Edward [DYAR], for Elegie most sweete, solemne, and of high conceit.">>
------------------------------------------------------- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetaster_(play)

<<Poetaster is a late Elizabethan satirical comedy written by Ben Jonson that was first performed in 1601. The play formed one element in the back-and-forth exchange between Jonson and his rivals John {MARSTON} and {T}homas {DECKE/R} in the so-called
Poetomachia or War of the Theatres of 1599–1601. The principal character in the play is Ovid.

Poetaster was entered into the Stationers' Register on 21 December 1601, and was first published in quarto in 1602 by the bookseller Matthew Lownes. The title page of the first edition states that the play was performed by the Children of the Chapel, one
of the companies of boy actors popular at the time. The play was next published in the first folio collection of Jonson's works (1616). A prefatory note to the folio text identifies the main actors in the 1601 production as Nathan Field, John Underwood,
Salomon Pavy, William Ostler, Thomas Day, and Thomas Marton. The quarto and folio texts both supply subtitles, with slight variants: in the quarto, the title is Poetaster or The Arraignment, and in the folio, Poetaster, Or His Arraignment.

It is widely accepted among scholars and critics that the character of Horace in Poetaster represents Jonson himself, while Crispinus, who vomits up a pretentious and bombastic vocabulary, is Marston, and Demetrius Fannius is Dekker. Individual
commentators have attempted to identify other characters in the play with historical and literary figures of the era, including George Chapman and Shakespeare — though these arguments have not been accepted by the scholarly consensus.

It is generally argued that the play is more than a mere venting of personal spleen against two rivals; rather, Jonson attempted in Poetaster to express his views on "the poet's moral duties in society." The play has been considered "an attempt to
combine undramatic, philosophical material on good poets with satire on bad poets." Scholars have also traced out a broad range of particular connections between Poetaster, other Jonson works, and plays by other authors in the first years of the 17th
century.
The term poetaster, meaning an inferior poet with pretentions to artistic value, had been coined by Erasmus in 1521. It was used by Jonson in 1600 and then popularized with this play a year later.>>
-------------------------------------------------------
THE POETASTER: OR, HIS ARRAIGNMENT (FOLIO) -------------------------------------------------------
OVID JUNIOR: And give me stomach to digest this law:
That should have follow'd sure, had I been he.
O, sacred Poesy, thou spirit of arts,
The soul of science, and the queen of souls;
What profane violence, almost sacrilege,
Hath here been offered thy divinities!
That thine own guiltless poverty should arm
Prodigious ignorance to wound thee thus!
For thence is all their force of argument,
Drawn forth against thee; or, from the abuse
Of thy great powers in adulterate brains:
When, would men learn but to distinguish spirits
And set *TRUE* difference 'twixt those jaded wits
That run a broken pace for common hire,
And the high raptures of a happy muse,
Borne on the wings of her immortal thought,
That kic[KS] at earth with a disdainful heel,
And beats at he[A]ven gates with [H]er bright hoofs;
They would not t[H]en, with such distorted faces,
[A]nd desperate cen[S]ure{S}, stab at {P}oesy.
Th{E}y would {A}dmire b{R}ight [K]nowledge, and their minds
Should ne'er descend on so unworthy objects
As gold, or titles; they would dread far more
To be thought ignorant, than be known poor.
The time was once, when wit drown'd wealth; but now,
Your only barbarism is t'have wit, and want.
No matter now in virtue who excels,
He that hath coin, hath all perfection else. ...............................................................
. . . . . <= 40 =>
.
. That k ic [K S] at e arthwi t h a disd a infulh e elAndb e
. atsa t he [A] v en g ateswi t h[H]erbr i ghthoo f sTheyw o
. uldn o tt [H] e nw i thsuch d i s tort e dfaces[A]nddesp e
. rate c en [S] u re{S}stabat{P}o e syTh{E}ywould{A}dmireb{R}
. ight[K]no w l ed g eandth e i r mind s Should n eerdes c
. endo n so u n wo r thyobj e c t sAsg o ldorti t lesthe y
. woul d dr e a df a rmoreT o b e thou g htigno r anttha n
. bekn o wn p o or

[SHAK/S] -40
[SHAK] 52
{SPEAR} 7 (21,201) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- CRISPINUS: That I am, lady; you shall see mine arms, if it please you.

CHLOE: No, your legs do sufficiently shew you are a gentleman born, sir;
for a man bor[N]e u{P|ON] l{I|T]tl{E} [L]eg{S},
[I]s al[W]ays a gentleman born.
........................
. <= 4 =>
.
. f .o .r .a
. m .a .n .b
. o .r [N] e
. u {P}[O N]
. l {I}[T] t
. l {E}[L] e
. g {S}[I] s
. a .l [W] a
. y .s .a .g
. e .n .t .l
. e .m .a .n
. b .o .r .n.
.
[WILTON] -4
{PIES} 4 (28,158)
-------------------------------------------------------
CRISPINUS: I'll presen{TL}y g{O} an{D} en{G}hl{E} some broker
for a poet's gown, and bespeak a garland: and then,
jeweller, look to your best jewel, i'faith. [Exit. ACT II]
...............
. <= 3 =>
.
. I'.l .l
. p .r .e
. .s e .n
. {T.L} y
. g {O} a
. n {D} e
. n {G} h
. l {E}
.
{T./LODGE} 3 (37,488) ---------------------------------------------------------------
HORACE: 'Death! will he leave me? Fuscus Aristius! do you hear? Gods of
Rome! You said you h{A}d so{M}ewh{A}t to {S}ay t{O} me i{N} private.

{A MASON} 4 (47,607)
-------------------------------------------------------
HISTRIO: When you please, by Jove, captain, most willingly. us. Dost
thou swear! To-morrow then; say and hold, slave. There are some of
you play{ER}s honest gentlemen-li{K}e scoundrels, and suspe{C}ted
to have some wit, as w{E}ll as your poets, both a{T} {D}rinking
and breaking of jests, and are companions for gallants. A man
may skelder ye, now and then, of half a dozen shillings, or so.
Dost thou not know that Pantalabus there? .................................................
. . . . . <= 20 =>
.
. T h e r e a r e s o m e o f y o u p l a
. y {E R} s h o n e s t g e n t l e m e n-l
. i {K} e s c o u n d r e l s,a n d s u s p
. e {C} t e d t o h a v e s o m e w i t,a s
. w {E} l l a s y o u r p o e t s,b o t h a
. {T.D} r i n k i n g a n d b r e a k i n g
. o f j e s t s
.
{T/DECKE/R} -20 (53,897) -------------------------------------------------------
2 PYRGUS: Where art thou, boy? where is Calipolis?
Fight earthquakes in the entrails of the earth,
And eastern whirlwinds in the hellish shades;
Some foul contagion of the infected heavens
Blast all the trees, and in their cursed tops
The dismal night raven and tragic owl
[B]reed [A]nd be[C]ome f[O]reru[N]ners of my fall!
.
[BACON] 5 (60,790) -------------------------------------------------------------
ACT IV SCENE I.

CHLOE: But, sweet lady, say;
am I well enough attired for the court, in sadness?

CYTHERIS: Well enough! excellent well, sweet mistress Chloe; this
strait-bodied city attire, I can tell you, will stir a courtier's
blood, more than the finest loose sacks the ladies use to be put in;
and then you are as well j{E}well'{D} as an{Y} of th{E}m; you{R} ruff
and linen about you is much more pure than theirs; and for your
beauty, I can tell you, there's many of them would defy the
painter, if they could change with you. Marry, the worst is, you
must look to be envied, and endure a few court-frumps for it.

{E.DYER} 5 (62,131)
---------------------------------------------------------
CHLOE: My name is Chloe, sir; I am a gentlewoman.

TUCCA: Thou art in merit to be an empress, Chloe, for an eye and a
lip; thou ha[S]t an emperor's nose: kiss me again: '[T]is a virtuous
punk; so! Before Jov[E], the gods were a sort of goslings, [W]hen they
suffered so sweet a bre[A]th to perfume the bed of a stinka[R]d: thou
hadst ill fortune, Thisbe; [T]he FATES were infatuate, they were,
punk, they were. ...............................................................
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . <= 27 =>
.
. T h o u a r t i n m e r i t t o b e a n e m p r e .s .s,
. C h l o e,f o r a n e y e a n d a l i p;t h o u h .[A S]
. t a n e m p e r o r's n o s e:k i s s m e a g a i n:'[T]
. i s a v i r t u o u s p u n k;s o!B e f o r e J o v. [E],
. t h e g o d s w e r e a s o r t o f g o s l i n g s, [W]
. h e n t h e y s u f f e r e d s o s w e e t a b r e. [A]
. t h t o p e r f u m e t h e b e d o f a s t i n k a. [R]
. d:t h o u h a d s t i l l f o r t u n e,T h i s b e; [T]
. h e F a t e s w e r e i n f a t u a t e,t h e y w e . r
. e,p u n k,t h e y w e r e.

[A/STEWART] 27 (67,626) ...............................................................
CHLOE: That's sure, sir: let me crave your name, I pray you, sir.

TUCCA: I am known by the name of Captain Tucca, punk; the noble
Roman, punk: a gentleman, and a commander, punk. ----------------------------------------------
JULIA: I'll cast myself down to thee; if I die,
I'll EVER live with thee: no height of birth,
Of place, of duty, or of cruel power,
Shall keep me from thee; should my father lock
This body up within a *TOMB of BRASS*,
Yet I'll be with thee. If the forms I hold
Now in my soul, be made one substance with it;
That soul immortal, and the same 'tis now;
Death cannot raze the affects she now retaineth:
And then, may she be any where she will.
The souls of parents rule not children's souls,
When death sets both in their dissolv'd estates;
Then is no child nor fat[He]r; then etern[I]ty
Frees all f[R]om any tempor[A]l respect.
I co[M]e, my Ovid; take me in thine arms,
And let me breathe my soul into thy breast. ..................................................
. . . . . . . <= 12 =>
.
. T h e n i s n .o c .h i l
. d n o r f a t [H e] r;t h
. e n e t e r n [I] t y F r
. e e s a l l f [R] o m a n
. y t e m p o r [A] l r e s
. p e c t.I c o [M] e,m y O
. v i d;
.
[MARI H/e] -12 (85,864) ---------------------------------------------------------------
VIRGIL: Meanwhile the skies 'gan thunder, and in tail
Of that, fell pouring storms of sleet and hail:
The Tyrian lords and Trojan youth, each where
With Venus' Dardane nephew, now, in fear,
Seek out for several shelter through the plain,
Whilst floods come rolling from the hills amain.
Dido a cave, the Trojan prince the same
Lighted upon. There earth and heaven's great dame,
That hath the charge of marriage, first gave sign
Unto his contract; fire and air did shine,
As guilty of the match; and from the hill
The nymphs with shriekings do the region fill.
Here first began their bane; this day was ground
Of all their ills; for now, nor rumour's sound,
Nor nice respect of state, moves Dido ought;
Her love no longer now by stealth is sought:
She calls this wedlock, and with that fair name
Covers her fault. Forthwith the bruit and fame,
Through all the greatest Lybian towns is gone;
Fame, a fleet evil, than which is [S]wifter none,
That moving grows, and flying gat[H]ers strength,
Little at first, and fearful; but [A]t length
She dare{S} attempt the skies, and stal[K]ing proud
With feet on ground, her head doth {P}i[E]rce a cloud!
This child, our parent earth, stirr'd up with spite
Of all th{E} gods, brought forth; and, as some write,
She was last sister of that giant r{A}ce
That thought to scale Jove' s court; right swift of pace,
And swifter fa{R} of wing; a monster vast,
And dreadful. Look, how many plumes are placed
On h{E}r huge corps, so many waking eyes
Stick underneath; and, which may *STRANGER* rise
In the report, as many tongues she bears,
As many mouths, as many listening ears.
Nightly, in midst of all the heaven, she flies,
And through the earth's dark shadow shrieking cries,
Nor do her eyes once bend to taste sweet sleep;
By day on tops of houses she doth keep,
Or on high towers; and doth thence affright
Cities and towns of most conspicuous site:
As covetous she is of tales and lies,
As prodigal of *TRUTH*: this monster— ...............................................................
. <= 59 =>
.
.F ame a fleetevilthanwhi c his[S]wifternoneThatmo v inggrowsandfly .i. n
.g gat[H]ersstrengthLittl e atf i rstandfearfulbut[A]tlengthShedare {S} a
.t tem p ttheskiesandstal[K]ing p roudWithfeetongr o undherheaddoth {P} i [E]rce a cloudThischildou r par e ntearthstirrdupw i thspiteOfallth {E} g
.o dsb r oughtforthandass o mew r iteShewaslastsis t erofthatgiantr {A} c
.e Tha t thoughttoscaleJo v esc o urtrightswiftofp a ceAndswifterfa {R} o
.f win g amonstervastAndd r ead f ulLookhowmanyplu m esareplacedOnh {E} r
.h uge c orpssomanywaking e yes S tickunderneathan d whichmaystrang e r
.r ise I nthereportasmany t ong u esshebearsAsmany m outhsasmanylis t e
.n ing e ars

[SHAKE] 38
{SPEARE} 59 (96,568) Prob. near end ~ 1 in 750 -------------------------------------------------------
VIRGIL: Before you go together, worthy Romans,
We are to tender our opinion;
And give you those instructions, that may add
Unto your even judgment in the cause:
Which thus we do commence. First, you must know,
That where there is a *TRUE* and perfect merit,
There can be no dejection; and the scorn
Of humble baseness, oftentimes so works
In a high soul, upon the grosser spirit,
That to his bleared and offended sense,
There seems a hideous fault blazed in the object;
When only the disease is in his eyes.
Here-hence it comes our Horace now stands tax'd
Of impudence, self-love, and arrogance,
By those who share no merit in themselves;
And therefore think his portion is as small.
For they, from their own guilt, assure their souls,
If they should confidently praise their works,
In them it would appear inflation:
Which, in a full and well digested man,
Cannot receive that foul abusive name,
But the fair title of erectio{N}.
And, f{O}r his {T}rue u{S}e of t{R}ansl{A}ting {M}en, .........................................................
. <= 5 =>
.
. B u t t .h
. e f a i .r
. t i t l .e
. o f e r .e
. c t i o {N}.
. A n d,f {O}
. r h i s {T}
. r u e u {S}
. e o f t {R}
. a n s l {A}
. t i n g {M}
. e n,
.
{MARSTON} -5 (108,971) .........................................................
It still hath been a work of as much palm,
In clearest judgments, as to invent or make,
His sharpness,—-that is most excusable;
As being forced out of a suffering virtue,
Oppressed with the license of the time:—-
And howsoever fools or jerking pedants,
Players, or suchlike buffoon barking wits,
May with their beggarly and barren trash
Tickle base vulgar ears, in their despite;
This, like Jove's thunder, shall their pride control,
"The honest satire hath the happiest soul." ------------------------------------------------------
Author: It is not so.
I used no name. My books have still been taught
To spare the persons, and to speak the vices.
These are mere slanders, and enforced by such
As have no safer ways to men's disgraces.
But their own lies and loss of honesty:
Fellows of practised and most laxative tongues,
Whose empty and eager bellies, in the year,
Compel their brains to many desperate shifts,
(I spare to name them, for their wretchedness
Fury itself would pardon). These, or such,
Whether of malice, or of ignorance,
Or itch t' have me their adversary, I know not,
Or all these mixt; but sure I am, three years
They did provoke me with their petulant styles
On every stage: and I at last unwilling,
But weary, I confess, of so [M]uch t[R]oubl[E],
Thou[G]ht I w[O]uld t[R]y if shame could win upon 'em,' ............................................................
. . <= 5 =>
.
. .B .u t w e
. .a .r y,I c
. .o .n f e s
. .s, o f s o
. [M] u c h t
. [R] o u b l
. [E],T h o u
. [G] h t I w
. [O] u l d t
. [R] y i f s
. .h a m e
.
[ROGER M.] -5 (126,691) ............................................................
And therefore chose Augustus Caesar's times,
When wit and area were at their height in Rome,
To shew that Virgil, Horace, and the rest
Of those great master-spirits, did not want
Detractors then, or practicers against them:
And by this line, although no parallel,
I hoped at last they would sit down and blush;
But nothing I could find more contrary.
And though the impudence of flies be great,
Yet this hath so provok'd the angry wasps,
Or, as you said, of the next nest, the hornets,
That they fly buzzing, mad, about my nostrils,
And, like so many screaming grasshoppers
Held by the wings, fill every ear with noise.
And what? those former calumnies you mention'd.
First, of the law: indeed I brought in Ovid
Chid by his angry father for neglecting
The study of their laws for poetry:
And I am warranted by his own words:

Saepe pater dixit, studium quid inutile tentas!
Maeonides nullas ipse reliquit opes.

And in far harsher terms elsewhere, as these:

Non me verbosas leges ediscere, non me
Ingrato voces prostituisse foro.

But how this should relate unto our laws,
Or the just ministers, with least abuse,
I rEVEREnce both too much to understand!
Then, for the captain, I will only speak
An epigram I here have made: it is

UNTO *TRUE* SOLDIERS.
That's the lemma: mark it.
Strength of my country, whilst I bring to view
Such: as are miss-call'd captains, and wrong you,
And your high names; I do desire, that thence,
Be nor put on you, nor you take offence:
I swear by your *TRUE* friend, my muse, I love
Your great profession which I once did prove;
And did not shame it with my actions then,
No more than I dare now do with my pen.
He that not trusts me, having vowed thus much,
But's angry for the captain, still: is such.
Now for the players, it is *TRUE*, I tax'd them,
And yet but some; and those so sparingly,
As all the rest might have sat still unquestion'd,
Had they but had the wit or conscience
To think well of themselves. But impotent, they
Thought each man's vice belong'd to their whole tribe;
And much good do't them! What they have done 'gainst me,
I am not moved with: if it gave them meat,
Or got them clothes, 'tis well; that was their end.
Only amongst them, I am sorry for
Some better natures, by the rest so drawn,
To run in that vile line.

Pol. And is this all!
Will you not answer then the libels?

Aut. No.

Pol. Nor the Untrussers?

Aut. Neither.

Pol. Y'are undone then.

Aut. With whom?

Pol. The world.

Aut. The bawd!

Pol. It will be taken
To be stupidity or tameness in you.

Aut.
But they that have incensed me, can in soul
Acquit me of that guilt. They know I dare
To spurn or baffle them, or squirt their eyes
With ink or urine; or I could do worse,
Arm'd with Archilochus' fury, write Iambics,
Should make the desperate lashers hang themselves;
Rhime them to death, as they do Irish rats
In drumming tunes. Or, living, I could stamp
Their foreheads with those deep and public brands,
That the whole company of barber-surgeon a
Should not take off with all their art and plasters.
And these my prints should last, still to be read
In their pale fronts; when, what they write 'gainst me
Shall, like a figure drawn in water, fleet,
And the poor wretched papers be employed
To clothe tobacco, or some cheaper drug:
This I could do, and make them infamous.
But, to what end? when their own deeds have mark'd 'em;
And that I know, within his guilty breast
Each slanderer bears a whip that shall torment him
Worse than a million of these temporal plagues:
Which to pursue, were but a feminine humour,
And far beneath the dignity of man.

Nas.
'Tis *TRUE*; for to revenge their injuries,
Were to confess you felt them. Let them go,
And use the treasure of the fool, their tongues,
Who makes his gain, by speaking worst of beat.

Pol. O, but they lay particular imputations—

Aut. As what?

Pol. That all your writing is mere railing.

Aut. Ha?
If all the salt in the old comedy
Should be so censured, or the sharper wit
Of the bold satire termed scolding rage,
What age could then compare with those for buffoons?
What should be said of Aristophanes,
Persius, or Juvenal, whose names we now
So glorify in schools, at least pretend it?—-
Have they no other?

Pol.
Yes; they say you are slow,
And scarce bring forth a play a year.

Aut. 'Tis *TRUE*.
I would they could not say that I did that!
There' s all the joy that I take in their trade,
Unless such scribes as these might be proscribed
Th' abused theatres. They would think it *STRANGE*, now,
A man should take but colts-foot for one day,
And, between whiles, spit out a better poem
Than e'er the master of art, or giver of wit,
Their belly, made. Yet, this is possible,
If a free mind had but the patience,
To think so much together and so vile.
But that these base and beggarly conceits
Should carry it, by the multitude of voices,
Against the most abstracted work, opposed
To the stuff'd nostrils of the drunken rout!
O, this would make a learn'd and liberal soul
To rive his stained quill up to the back,
And damn his long-watch'd labours to the fire,
Things that were born when none but the still night
And his dumb candle, saw his pinching throes,
Were not his own free merit a more crown
Unto his travails than their reeling claps.
This 'tis that strikes me silent, seals my lips,
And apts me rather to sleep out my time,
Than I would waste it in contemned strifes
With these vile Ibides, these unclean birds,
That make their mouths their clysters, and still purge
From their hot entrails. But I leave the monsters
To their own fate. And, since the Comic Muse
Hath proved so ominous to me, I will try
If TRAGEDY have a more kind aspect;
Her favours in my next I will pursue,
Where, if I prove the pleasure but of one,
So he judicious be, he shall be alone
A theatre unto me; Once I'll say
To strike the ear of time in those fresh strains,
As shall, beside the cunning of their ground,
Give cause to some of wonder, some despite,
And more despair, to imitate their sound.
I, that spend half my nights, and all my days,
Here in a cell, to get a dark paleface,
To come forth worth the ivy or the bays,
And in this age can hope no other grace—-
Leave me! There's something come into my thought,
That must and shall be sung high and aloof,
Safe from the wolfs black jaw, and the dun ass's hoof

Nas. I rEVEREnce these raptures, and obey them.
[The scene closes—- ----------------------------------------------------------
Art Neuendorffer

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