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By long Prescription time out of mind, the next Leafe to the Title Page claims an Epistle to the Reader; I had the Project once in my own thoughts too: But the Market is so abominably forestall'd already with all manner of excuses for Printing, that I could not possibly contrive one, that would look any thing New: And besides I never found, amongst all the Epistles that I have read, that the best Rethorick in 'em could perswade me to have a better opinion of the Books for Their sakes: I am apt to believe the rest of Mankind much of my humour in this particular, and therefore do here expose these few Results of my many Idle hours, to the mercy of the wide World, quite guiltless of Address or Ceremony. And that Reader, who will not believe I had some tolerable Reason for This Publication, cannot give me much disturbance, because I'me sure he is not at all acquainted with
T. F.
April 10. 1674.
To his Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Flatman
on the publishing of his Poems.
I.
I think thou art not well advised, my friend,
To bring thy spritely Poems on the stage
Now when the Muses' empire 's at an end
And there 's none left that feel poetic rage,
Now Cowley's dead, the glory of the age,
And all the lesser singing birds are starved i'th' cage.
II.
Nor was it well done to permit my bush,
My holly bush, to hang before thy wine,
For friends' applauses are not worth a rush,
And every fool can get a gilded sign.
In troth I have no faculty at praise;
My bush is very full of thorns, though it seems bays.
III.
When I would praise I cannot find a rhyme,
But if I have a just pretence to rail,
They come in numerous throngs at any time,
Their everlasting fountains never fail,
They come in troops and for employment pray;
If I have any wit, it lies only that way.
IV.
But yet I'll try, if thou wilt rid thy mind
Of thoughts of rhyming and of writing well,
And bend thy studies to another kind—
I mean, in craft and riches to excel;
If thou desert thy friends and better wine,
And pay'st no more attendance on the needy Nine.
V.
Go, and renounce thy wit and thy good parts—
Wit and good parts, great enemies to wealth,—
And barter honesty for more thriving arts,
Prize gold before a good name, ease, and health.
Answer the Dog and Bottle, and maintain
There's great ease in a yoke, and freedom in a chain.
VI.
I'll love thee now when this is done, I'll try
To sing thy praise, and force my honest Muse to lie.
Walter Pope.