Still to be silent, or to write in prose,
Were alike sloth, such as I leave to those
Who either want the grace of wit, or have
Untoward arguments: like him that gave
Life to the flea, or who without a guest
Would prove that famine was the only feast;
Self tyrants, who their braines doubly torment,
Both for their matter and their ornament.
If these do stutter sometimes, and confesse
That they are tired, we could expect no lesse.
But when my matter is prepared and fit,
When nothing’s wanting but an equal wit,
I need no Muse’s help to ayde me on,
Since that my subject is my Helicon.
And such are you: O give me leave, dear sir,
(He that is thankful is no flatterer,)
To speak full truth: Wherever I find worth,
I shew I have it if I set it forth:
You read yourself in these; here you may see
A ruder draft of Corbet’s infancy.
For I professe, if ever I had thought
Needed not blush if publish’d, were there ought
Which was call’d mine durst beare a critic’s view,
I was the instrument, but the author you.
I need not tell you of our health, which here
Must be presum’d, nor yet shall our good cheare
Swell up my paper, as it has done me,
Or as the Mayor’s feast does Stowe’s History:
Without an early bell to make us rise,
Health calls us up and novelty; our eyes
Have divers objects still on the same ground,
As if the Earth had each night walk’d her round
To bring her best things hither: ’tis a place
Not more the pride of shires then the disgrace,
Which I’de not leave, had I my Dean to boot,
For the large offers of the cloven-foot
Unto our Saviour, but you not being here
’Tis to me, though a rare one, but a shire;
A place of good earth, if compared with worse,
Which hath a lesser part in Adam’s curse:
Or, for to draw a simile from the High’st,
Tis like unto salvation without Christ,
A fairly situate prison: When again
Shall I enjoy that friendship, and that braine?
When shall I once more hear, in a few words,
What all the learning of past times affords?
Austin epitomiz’d, and him that can
To make him clear contract Tertullian.
But I detain you from them: Sir, adieu!
You read their works, but let me study you.