Thy Praise or Dispraise is to me alike;
One doth not stroke me, nor the other strike.
Again,
Curst be his Muse, that could lye dumb, or hid
To so true Worth, though thou thy self forbid.
In this Train of Voters for Monosyllables, the inimitable Cowley marches next, whom we must not refuse to hear;
Yet I must on; what Sound is’t strikes mine Ear?
Sure I Fames Trumpet hear.
And a little after,
Come my best Friends, my Books, and lead me on;