Classic Poem

Thou that dost knitte the Brow to austere lookes,
At what but seemes, or else is lewde or light;
And lookst for wisedome oft in witlesse bookes,
(Sterne Grauity) auert from me thy sight,
I am the Issue of a Labring braine,
Wherein all kind of Fancies, breeding bee
Good, bad, indifferent, all, of either Straine,
Some as vnfitte, as some are fitte for thee
I probablie presume thou canst not loue,
Sith Saturne sits aboue faire Venus swaie;
Then I am not for thee for I do mooue
But in her Spheare that beares the world awaie
Yet if (unlike thy selfe) thou long'st to see
What, who, and whence I am, then smooth thy front
And looke on That which I haue good in mee
And for that good hold me in good account
For, if (but like a flesh-flie) thou wilt light
On nought but Sores, and shun the soundest parts
Then nought sublunarie can thee delight:
For all haue faults though som haue perfect parts
I grant my Lines reache not to those Respectes
That touch Religion, State, or Policy,
I meddle not with Causes of Effects
Farre greater then Loues large capacity:
But in round rimes (with Reason Biac'd) I
Do runne those Points that point at Loues delight
And if some Rubbes do make me run awry
Yet may I, on this Ground well runne aright
But, howsoere I runne, stoppe not my Race,
That tends but to the Mistris full of grace.

The Author to his Muse

Why makst (fond Muse) a mixture so vnmeet
Of good, and bad, in this thou hast composd:
Sith good and bad do marre all where they meete,
If they, in one by armes of Art be clos'd?
Is it because thou so wouldest Simbolize
The nature of the All , in nature bred,
Whose good doth bad, and bad doth good comprize
So as they scarce can be distinguished?
Or ist sith thou wouldst please the good and bad
And so (like Sinne) a people-pleaser bee?
Elce ist because that vice and Vertues trade
Is measurd by the rule of Vanity?
What ere it be it is farre out of Square,
If it be tride by true Decorums Squire;
Yet skils it not: sith out so all things are
That made are of Earth, Water, Aire, and Fire!
Then these, of Wits fire made, for Aire of Fame,
(Yet some are Earthly, or with folly flow)
The fire is faultie, and the Aire too blame:
Yet heat and moisture maks young things to grow,
But yet if these grow great, and swell with praise
More then with numbers, or inuention,
Then good and badd, conioyn'd in these Essaies,
Doth please the World best pleasd with both in one
Yet what is got by pleasing one so base
Then take this for a Vantage, World, for I
Will please thee so no more, but liue and dy
Thy fained frend, or open Enemy.

Of my selfe

W HAT meane I miscreant my Braines to beate
To forge these Fancies light as Leuity ,
To set the World on fire with amorous heate
That now lies drowned in such vanity?
I know I should not do it, and I know
This knowledge much exaggerates my blame:
Why do I then my science herein show,
Where greatest skill doth merit greater shame?
And who doth loue this vaine of fancy vaine
But vainest men? then, o how vaine am I
That thus the powers of my wit doe strayne,
To please vaine Skums with skumme of vanity?
Here Wit it self (though wit it selfe I had)
Wants skill to coyne excuse, the faults so fowle:
Then Reason run right, whether dost thou gad?
Wilt thou misleade the blind, thy Queen, my Soule?
To pleae base Earth wilt thou the Heauens displease,
That knowest so well the Earth yeeldes nought but dust?
Seekst thou for fame with my whole mannes disease,
That worst all fame, but vertues is vniust?
Or yet (by Faith instructed) knowst thou not
(For, Faith , in Truth, knows more then thou canst know)
That names of famous men away shall rot,
If from such gracelesse Grounds theyr fames do growe?
Art thou my guide, and yet dost me direct
To labyrinths of loue, where we are lost?
Dost thou (most wise) cause this most fond effect?
Or crossest me, sith thee I oft haue crost?
Ah Reason wilt thou now to Passion turne,
That wast the Prince predominating it?
Shal thy Slaue (fraile Affection ) thee oreturne?
And, mad to make me, wilt thou straine thy wit?
Wilt thou instruct mee so to please the Sence
That none but Sensuall men shall like my Lines?
And misinforme the best Intelligence ,
That paies beliefe to thee, and thine assignes?
O Reason weigh thy selfe in thine owne Scales,
Ponder thy power which is as good, as strong:
Be thou thy selfe, though thou art wronged by Fools,
And right that wrong with Iustice, not with wrong
I see thou hearst me, for thou teachest me,
To teach thee what we both should learne and doe:
Thou promptst me now, wherein I erd through thee;
And bidst me those light Lines againe vndoe;
And tye them to the lasting Lord of Loue,
With such a knot as nere shall be vndone:
Those Lines will draw, and hold, and stay, and mooue,
Sith they are by the hand of Vertue spunne.
Then Reason I acquite thee from disgrace,
Sith thus thou promptst me what I ought to write:
Lett Tyrant shame with bloud stil fil my face
For so abusing thy right ruling might.
My frinds (though fraile as I am) pres me stil
To press these lines (more fraile) to publike view:
If I should saie it is againste my will
I shoulde speake truly, and yet most vntrue:
For my wills fixt my fast friends stil to please:
But yet still wauers thus, to publish these,