  Thus two hours have brought to end What many tedious hours have penn'd: He dares not glory nor distrust; But he (as other writers must) Submits the tensures To those, whose wit and nimble brains Are able best to judge: and as for some Who, filled with malice, hither come To belch their poison on his labour, But bids them hang or soon amend, For worth shall still itself defend. And for ourselves we do desire, You'll breathe on us that glowing By which in time we may obtain Like favours which some others gain; For be assur'd our loves shall tend To equal theirs, if not transcend. |
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