The censure of these times, this critic age,
My muse (like parrots) in a wire cage
Shall not do penance; but I'll not promise it,
10'Cause 't doth too much o' th' lips of greatness sit.
And 'tis a fault for me to sympathize,
I bring no antic mask in strange disguise,
No sharp invective, nor no comic mirth
Which may to laughter give an easy birth.
Though 'tis in use with them that seek to please
These humorous times (it being a disease