Classic Poem

1

No more, no more of this, I vow,
'Tis time to leave this fooling now,
Which few but fools call Wit;
There was a time when I begun,
And now 'tis time I should have done,
And medle no more with it
He Physicks use doth quite mistake,
That Physick takes for Physicks sake.

2

My heat of youth, and love and pride,
Did swell me with their strong spring-tyde,
Inspir'd my brain and blood,
And made me then converse with toyes,
Which are call'd Muses by the boyes,
And dabble in their flood
I was perswaded in those dayes,
There was no crown like love and bayes.

3

But now my youth and pride are gone,
And age and cares come creeping on,
And businesse checks my love;
What need I take a needlesse toyle,
To spend my labour, time and oyle,
Since no design can move
For now the cause is ta'ne away,
What reason is't th'effect should stay?

4

'Tis but a folly now for me,
To spend my time and industry,
About such uselesse wit;
For when I think I have done well,
I see men laugh, but cannot tell,
Where't be at me, or it
Great madness 'tis to be a drudge,
When those that cannot write dare judge.

5

Besides the danger that ensue'th,
To him that speaks, or writes the truth,
The praemium is so small,
To be called Poet and wear bayes,
And Factor turne of Songs and Playes,
This is no wit at all
Wit only good to sport and sing,
's a needlesse and an endlesse thing.


6

Give me the Wit that can't speak sense,
Nor read it, but in's own defense,
Ne're learn'd but of his Grannum ,
He that can buy, and sell, and cheat,
May quickly make a shift to get
His thousand pound per annum .
And purchase without much ado,
The Poems and the Poet too.