It will be looked for, book, when some but see Thy title, @3Epigrams@1, and named of me, Thou should'st be bold, licentious, full of gall, Wormwood, and sulphur, sharp, and toothed withal; Become a petulant thing, hurl ink, and wit, As mad-men stones: not caring whom they hit. Deceive their malice, who could wish it so. And by thy wiser temper, let men know Thou art not covetous of least self-fame, Made from the hazard of another's shame: Much less with lewd, profane, and beastly phrase, To catch the world's loose laughter, or vain gaze. He that departs with his owne honesty For vulgar praise, doth it too dearly buy. |