Virgidemiarum sixe bookes. First three bookes. Of tooth-lesse satyrs. 1. Poeticall. 2. Academicall. 3. Morall.

SAT. IX.

ENuie ye Muses, at your thriuing Mate, Cupid hath crowned a new Laureat: I saw his statue gayly tyr'd in greene, As if he had some second Phoebus beene. His Statue trimd with the Venerean tree, And shrined faire within your Sanctuarie. What, he, that ea••st to gaine the riming Goale The worne Recitall-post of Capitol, Rimed in rules of Stewish ribaldrie, Teaching experimentall bauderie? Whiles th'itching vulgar tickled with the song, Hanged on their vnreadie Poets tongue. Take this ye patient Muses: and foule shame Shall waite vpon your once profaned name.

Take this, ye Muses, this so high despight, And let all hatefull lucklesse birds of night: Let Scriching Owles nest in your razed roofes, And let your sloore with horned Satyres hoofes Be dinted and defiled euerie morne: And let your walles be an eternall scorne. What if some Shordich furie should incite Some lust-stung letcher: must he needes indite The beastly rites of hyred Venerie, The whole worlds vniuersall bawd to be? Did neuer yet no damned Libertine, Nor elder Heathen, nor new Florentine, Tho they were famous for lewd libertie, Venture vpon so shamefull villanie Our Epigrammatarians olde and late, Were wont be blam'd for too licentiate. Chast men, they did but glaunce at Lesbias deed, And handsomely leaue off with cleanly speed. But Arts of Whoring: stories of the stewes, Ye Muses, will ye beare, and may refuse? Nay let the Diuell, and Saint Valentine, Be gossips to those ribald rimes of thine.

FINIS.