Classic Poem

Mercury shew'd Apollo, Bartas Book,
Minerva this, and wisht him well to look,
And tell uprightly, which did which excell,
He view'd and view'd, and vow'd he could not tel.
They did him Hemisphear his mouldy nose,
With's crackt leering-glasses, for it would pose
The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan,
Sex weigh'd, which best, the Woman, or the Man?
He peer'd, and por'd, and glar'd, and said for wore
I'me even as wise now, as I was before:
They both 'gan laugh, and said, it was no mar'l
The Auth'ress was a right Du Bartas Girle.
Good sooth quoth the old Don , tel ye me so,
I muse whither at length these Girls will go;
It half revives my chil frost-bitten blood,
To see a woman once do, ought, that's good;
And chode by Chaucers Boots, and Homers Furrs,
Let Men look to't, least Women wear the Spurrs.