Those grim and horrid Caues, Whose Lookes affright the day, Wherein nice Nature saues, What she would not bewray, Our better leasure craues, And doth inuite our Lay. In places farre or neere, Or famous, or obscure, Where wholesome is the Ayre, Or where the most impure, 40 All times, and euery-where, The Muse is still in vre. HIS DEFENCE AGAINST THE IDLE CRITICK The Ryme nor marres, nor makes, Nor addeth it, nor takes, From that which we propose; Things imaginarie Doe so strangely varie, That quickly we them lose. And what 's quickly begot, As soone againe is not, This doe I truely know: Yea, and what 's borne with paine, 10 That Sense doth long'st retaine, Gone with a greater Flow. Yet this Critick so sterne, But whom, none must discerne, Nor perfectly haue seeing, Strangely layes about him, As nothing without him Were worthy of being. That I my selfe betray To that most publique way, 20 Where the Worlds old Bawd, Custome, that doth humor, And by idle rumor, Her Dotages applaud. That whilst he still prefers Those that be wholly hers, Madnesse and Ignorance, I creepe behind the Time, From spertling with their Crime, And glad too with my Chance. 30 O wretched World the while, When the euill most vile, Beareth the fayrest face, And inconstant lightnesse, With a scornefull slightnesse, The best Things doth disgrace. Whilst this strange knowing Beast, Man, of himselfe the least, His Enuie declaring, Makes Vertue to descend, 40 Her title to defend, Against him, much preparing. Yet these me not delude, Nor from my place extrude, By their resolued Hate; Their vilenesse that doe know; Which to my selfe I show, To keepe aboue my Fate. TO HIS RIVALL Her lou'd I most, By thee that 's lost, Though she were wonne with leasure; She was my gaine, But to my paine, Thou spoyl'st me of my Treasure. The Ship full fraught With Gold, farre sought, Though ne'r so wisely helmed, May suffer wracke 10 In sayling backe, By Tempest ouer-whelmed. But shee, good Sir, Did not preferre You, for that I was ranging; But for that shee Found faith in mee, And she lou'd to be changing. Therefore boast not Your happy Lot, 20 Be silent now you haue her; The time I knew She slighted you, When I was in her fauour.