Page:The Works of Ben Jonson - Gifford - Volume 9.djvu/133

Rh Let what thou feign 'st for pleasure's sake, be near The truth ; nor let thy fable think whate'er It would, must be : lest it alive would draw The child, when Lamia has din'd, out of her maw. The poems void of profit, our grave men Cast out by voices ; want they pleasure, then Our gallants give them none, but pass them by ; But he hath every suffrage, can apply Sweet mixt with sour to his reader, so As doctrine and delight together go. This book will get the Sosii money; this Will pass the seas, and long as nature is, With honour make the far-known author live. There are yet faults, which we would well forgive, For neither doth the string still yield that sound The hand and mind would, but it will resound Oft-times a sharp, when we require a flat: Nor always doth the loosed bow hit that Which it doth threaten. Therefore, where I see Much in the poem shine, I will not be Offended with few spots, which negligence Hath shed, or human frailty not kept thence, How then ? why as a scrivener, if h' offend Still in the same, and warned will not mend, Deserves no pardon ; or who'd play, and sing Is laugh'd at, that still jarreth on one string : So he that flaggeth much, becomes to me A Cherilus, in whom if I but see Twice or thrice good, I wonder ; but am more Angry. Sometimes I hear good Homer snore ; But I confess, that in a long work, sleep May, with some right, upon an author creep. As painting, so is poesy. Some man's hand Will take you more, the nearer that you stand;