erprize mine unaffected layes.

What moves thee then, said he, to take the pains
And spenden time if thou contemn'st the fruit?
Sweet fruit of fame, that fills the Poets brains
With high conceit and feeds his fainting wit.
How pleasant 'tis in honour here to live
And dead, thy name for ever to survive!

Or is thy abject mind so basely bent
As of thy Muse to maken Merchandize?
(And well I wote this is no strange intent.)
The hopefull glimps of gold from chattering Pies,
From Daws and Crows, and Parots oft hath wrung
An unexpected Pegaseian song.

Foul shame on him, quoth I, that shamefull thought
Doth entertain within his dunghill breast,
Both God and Nature hath my spirits wrought
To better temper and of old hath blest
My loftie soul with more divine aspires
Then to be touchd with such vile low desires.

I hate and highly scorn that Kestrell kind
Of bastard scholars that subordinate
The precious choice induements of the mind
To wealth or worldly good. Adulterate
And cursed brood! Your wit and will are born
Of th' earth and circling thither do return.

Profit and honour be those measures scant
Of your slight studies and endeavours vain,
And when you once have got what you did want
You leave your learning to enjoy your gain.
Your brains grow low, your bellies swell up high,
Foul sluggish fat ditts up your dulled eye.

Thus what the earth did breed, to th' earth is gone,
Like fading hearb or feebly drooping flower,
By feet of men and beast quite trodden down,
The muck-sprung learning cannot long endure.
Back she returns lost in her filthy source,
Drown'd, chok'd or slocken by her cruell nurse.

True virtue to her self's the best reward,
Rich with her own and full of lively spirit,
Nothing cast down for want of due regard.
Or 'cause rude men acknowledge not her merit.
She knows her worth and stock from whence she sprung,
Spreads fair without the warmth of earthly dung,

Dew'd with the drops of Heaven shall flourish long;
As long as day and night do share the skie,
And though that day and night should fail yet strong
And steddie, fixed on Eternitie
Shall bloom for ever. So the foul shall speed
That loveth virtue for no worldly meed.

Though sooth to sayn, the worldly meed is due
To her more then to all the world beside.
Men ought do homage with affections true
And offer g