Amanda, a sacrifice to an unknown goddesse, or, A free-will offering of a loving heart to a sweet-heart by N.H. of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge
Hookes, Nicholas, 1628-1712., Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. England's heroical epistles. Latin & English. Selections.
Page 141
To a spurious Poet.
BEtwixt the hawke and buzzard, bastard-kite,
How durst thou try to make an Eagles flight,
And with thy blear eyes in so high a place,
To look my great Apollo in the face?
Sirrah, 'twas mercy he was wrapt about
With clouds, else had thy eyes bin quite burnt out,
Then to thy fancie thou would'st seem to be
An English Homer, as stark blinde as he,
The Ballad-singers should thy dogrels sell,
Thou call•d the Poet with the dog and bell;
Then rithme i'th' streets, and on a wad of hay
Kneel, and in verse the learned begger play
Amongst the scaldheads under White-hall wall,
If it be ne'er so little amongst you all,
For the Muses sake before you go yet
Pray remember the poor blinde cripple Poet;
Then roguish waggish boyes as they passe by,
Chuck farthings in the hollow of thine eye,
Or else spit charity in thy greasie hat,
Blow oisters in't, There, Poet, take thee that.
Then play the Higins for the regiment
Of lowsie tag-raggs till thy lungs be spent,
And on the Sabbath with thy wooden dish
Beg pottage for them, their best Sunday-wish;
Page 142And then astride thy raw-bon'd Pegasus,
Like a beggar on horse-back, rant it thus.
Mistrisse, I can make Psalmes for you,
One Cup of beer I pray
On this good holy-day
For I very dry am,
Hopkins and Sternhold too,
Were Poets both as I am.
Thou Salewit, were this sentence past on thee,
'Twere a just judgement for thy heresie;
Impostor! thou a Poet so we call
A Broker, one of Merchant-Taylors hall:
So Crispins boyes, who scarce can mend a shoe,
Will be no Coblers but Translators too:
Thus the dull scrapers, who for six pence play
At wakes and help-ales a whole night and day:
Those lewd squeakers, who have no other shake,
But of their palsie-heads, say you mistake
To call them Fidlers, as they needs must be
Musicians, the name of Poet's due to thee:
So old wives study Physick, who can make
A Poultis for a felon'd thumb to break
And ripen it, thou good at Poetrie!
Annise seed-Robbin skill'd in Chymistrie:
So Pettifoggers and Atturneys Clerks,
Innes of Court-gallants, those Ram-alley sparks,
Who with a dash have learn't to write their names,
And say vous-aves to the City-dames,
Teach them what fee-simple and fee-tail implies,
Would be thought cunning Lawyers, and advise
Page 143In cases which they ken as knowingly,
As thou the mysteries of Poetrie;
So Academians call their Sophisters,
That steal positions good Philosophers;
Pin-makers are as good Goldsmiths, if they
That deal in varnish, whose rude fancie may
By licence wrong the creatures, in their noses,
Mouths and eyes, painting for Lions, roses;
Chimera's in red-oaker, naggs like hogs,
And hares which hunts-men cannot know from dogges;
If these rude land-skip-drawers, limners be,
Then as a Poet we shall honour thee.
But know thou didst that sacred name abuse,
When thou mad'st market of thy cotquean Muse,
Going about from door to door with her,
Not like the Poet but the Stationer;
Nay few o'th' Poems in thy book, 'tis known,
Except some non-sense dull ones are thy own;
Thou hast been simpling in a ditch, and got
I'th' fields some Lady-smocks or Melilot,
Blue-bottles or the like, and thou must needs
Like girles make posies of those stinking weeds,
Mingling some sweeter and more fragrant flowers
Of better wits to sent and set off yours;
And yet 'tis fear'd both are condemn'd to die,
For thou wert forc't to vent thy Poetrie;
As haggs for sizings on a Scholars head,
A Tuttie for a loaf of Colledge-bread.
Thou higler, who dost make a hackney Jade
Page 144Of Pegasus, and witt a rithming trade,
Thy book a kinde of Collect is a brief,
At first directed to the heads, and chief
O'th' parish whom it may concern, and then
To all other well-affected Gentlemen;
As many Patrons to't as Authors are,
Made like a reck'ning where each clubs his share;
Only thou pay'st the drawer, and would'st get
Credit for spending of anothers wit:
Huckster, forbear this cheating beggerie,
Or vent thy own, and better Poetrie.
Climbing too high upon Parnassus hill,
Thy squeamish fancie straight grew sick and ill,
There thou didst cast and spew, the Muses faine
Would have thee lick thy vomit up again.
