Classic Poem

The Book to the reader

Who seeks to shun the shatt'ring sails
of mighty Momus' mast,
Must not attempt the sugared seas
where Muses anchor cast.
For Momus there doth ride at float,
with scornful tongues yfreight:
With cankered cracks of wrathful words
he keeps the passage strait,
That none without disdain may pass
where Muses' navy lies,
But straight on them with ireful mood,
the scornful God he flies.
Since none may scape, I am not he
that can myself assure
Through surging seas of deep disdain
my passage to procure,
But am content for to receive
reproach at Momus' hand,
Sith none there is that may the nose
of Rhinocere withstand.
The learned wits I here require
with rigour not to judge:
The common sort I nought esteem,
unskilful though they grudge,
Nor few of them can hold their peace
but find themselves ado
I[n] viewing works as he that sought
to mend Appelles' shoe.
Both sorts I wish if that they would
contented to remain,
And bear the weakness of my wit,
and not thereat disdain.