Usurp the chair of wit
Inditing and arraigning every day
Something they call a play.
Let their fastidious, vaine
Commission of braine
Run on, and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn;
They were not made for thee,—less thou for them.
Say that thou pour’st them wheat,
And they will acorns eat;
’Twere simple fury, still, thyself to waste