Sirra livery cloak, you lazy slipper-slave, Thou fawning drudge, what, wouldst thou satires have? 50 Base mind, away, thy master calls, be gone. Sweet Gnato, let my poesy alone: Go buy some ballad of the Fairy King, And of the beggar wench[424] some roguy thing, Which thou mayst chant unto the chamber-maid To some vile tune, when that thy master's laid. But will you needs stay? am I forced to bear The blasting breath of each lewd censurer? Must naught but clothes, and images of men, But spriteless trunks, be judges of thy pen? 60 Nay then, come all; I prostitute my muse, For all the swarms of idiots to abuse. Read all, view all; even with my full consent, So you will know that which I never meant; So you will ne'er conceive, and yet dispraise That which you ne'er conceived, and laughter raise Where I but strive in honest seriousness To scourge some soul-polluting beastliness. So you will rail, and find huge errors lurk In every corner of my cynic work. 70 Proface,[425] read on, for your extrem'st dislikes Will add a pinion to my praise's flights. O how I bristle up my plumes of pride, O how I think my satire's dignifi'd, When I once hear some quaint Castilio, Some supple-mouth'd slave, some lewd Tubrio, Some spruce pedant, or some span-new-come fry Of inns-o'-court, striving to vilify My dark reproofs! Then do but rail at me, No greater honour craves my poesy. 80 1. But, ye diviner wits, celestial souls, Whose free-born minds no kennel-thought controlls, Ye sacred spirits, Maia's eldest sons-- 2. Ye substance of the shadows of our age, In whom all graces link in marriage, To you how cheerfully my poem runs! 3. True-judging eyes, quick-sighted censurers, Heaven's best beauties, wisdom's treasurers, O how my love embraceth your great worth! 4. Ye idols of my soul, ye blessed spirits, 90 How shall I give true honour to your merits, Which I can better think than here paint forth! You sacred spirits, Maia's eldest sons, To you how cheerfully my poem runs! O how my love embraceth your great worth, Which I can better think than here paint forth! O rare! [413] Ed. 1598 "shal each." [414] A newly-entered student at the inns-of-court. Cf. Middleton, iv. 37:--"Now I, not intending to understand her, but like a puny at the inns of Venery, &c." [415] See Dyce's _Shakesp. Gloss._, _s._ OCCUPY. [416] In allusion to the grotesque figures carved on the tops of citterns. See Nares' _Glossary_. [417] "A jobbernoll. Teste de boeuf, michon, grosse teste."--_Cotgrave._