Then should not I have needed proxy-verse,
T' have won a milkmaid, neither coy nor terse.
"Tush," say I, "Madam, this same ragged crew
Of rhyming dizzards are not worthy you.
Plato exiled them from his commonweal.
90Their tongues will flatter, and their fingers steal.
Mere sycophants that, for a trencher-bit,
Will swear y' have beauty mixed with purest wit.
And if you anger them, will in a rage
Unsay 't and rail 'gainst you, your sex, and age."