CORNGO
Your book shall come to light, Sir.
Exit Cornego [with book.]
ONAELIA
I have read legends of disastrous dames;
Will none set pen to paper for poor me?
Canst write a bitter satire? Brainless people
Do call them libels. Darest thou write a libel?
POET
I dare mix gall and poison with my ink.
ONAELIA
Do it then for me.
POET
And every line must be
A whip to draw blood.
ONAELIA
Better.
POET
And to dare
The stab from him it touches. He that writes
Such libels, as you call them, must launch wide
The sores of men's corruptions, and even search
To the quick for dead flesh, or for rotten cores:
A poet's ink can better cure some sores
Than surgeon's balsam.
ONAELIA
Undertake that cure
And crown thy verse with bays.
POET
Madam, I'll do it,
But I must have the party's character.