If thou hadst itch'd after the wild applause
Of common people, and hadst made thy laws
In writing such as catch'd at present voice,
I should commend the thing, but not thy choice.
But thou hast squared thy rules by what is good,
And art three ages yet from understood:
And (I dare say) in it there lies much wit
Lost, till the reader can grow up to it;
Which they can ne'er outgrow, to find it ill,
But must fall back again, or like it still.
More verses by Francis Beaumont
- To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, Upon His Faithful Sheperdess
- A Funeral Elegy On The Death Of The Lady Penelope Clifton
- The Examination Of His Mistress's Perfections
- The Remedy Of Love
- Salmacis And Hermaphroditus.