Classic Poem

To the Reader .
Neither buskin now, nor bayes
Challenge I: a Ladies prayse
Shall content my proudest hope.
Their applause was all my scope,
And to their shrines properly
Revels dedicated be:
Whose soft eares none ought to pierce
But with smooth and gentle verse.
Let the tragicke Poeme swell,
Raysing raging feendes from hell;
And let Epicke Dactils range
Swelling seas and Countries strange:
Little roome small things containes;
Easy prayse quites easy paines.
Suffer them whose browes do sweat
To gaine honour by the great:
Its enough if men me name
A Retailer of such fame.