Argyle his Praise, when Southerne wrote, First struck out this, and then that Thought; Said this was Flatt'ry, that a Fault. How shall your Bard contrive? My Lord, consider what you do, He'll lose his Pains and Verses too; For if these Praises fit not You, They'll fit no Man alive. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DAUGHTER OF DEBATE by ELIZABETH I AND THERE WAS A GREAT CALM' by THOMAS HARDY CHURCH-MUSICK [CHURCH MUSIC] by GEORGE HERBERT THE ARMADA; A FRAGMENT by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY |