Between the Muses and the ----
I'le none of that. There's desperate wits that be
(As their immortall Lawrell) Thunder-free;
Whose personall vertues, 'bove the Lawes of Fate,
Supply the roome of personall estate:
And thus enfranchis'd, safely may rehearse,
Rapt in a lofty straine, [their] own neck-verse.
For he that gives the Bayes to thee, must then
First take it from the Militarie Men;
He must untriumph conquests, bid 'em stand,
Question the strength of their victorious hand.
He must act new things, or go neer the sin,
Reader, as neer as you and I have been:
He must be that, which He that tryes will swear
I[t] is not good being so another Yeare.
And now that thy great name I've brought to [this],
To do it honour is to do amisse,
What's to be done to those, that shall refuse
To celebrate, great Soule, thy noble Muse?_
_Shall the poore State of all those wandring things,
Thy Stage once rais'd to Emperors and Kings?
Shall rigid forfeitures (that reach our Heires)
Of things that only fill with cares and feares?
Shall the privation of a friendlesse life,
Made up of contradictions and strife?
Shall He be entitie, would antedate
His own poore name, and thine annihilate?
Shall these be judgements great enough for one
That dares not write thee an Encomion?
Then where am I? but now I've thought upon't,