The blame is theirs, which with my workes so mell:
Lesse faulty he, that wisht his country well.
If some be pleasde and easde, I lease no toyle,
At carpers gyrdle hanges not all the keyes:
What price gaines he, that giues him fall or foyle,
Which neuer wan by wrastling any prayse,
I haue not spent in poetrye my dayes,
Some other workes in proase I printed haue:
And more I write for which I leysure saue.
And for mine age not thirty yeares hath past,