[Martial] Lib. XI. Epigr. XLIII.

[Martial] Lib. XI. Epigr. XLIII.

THere's not a drowsie Alderman i'th'Town, But I'l engage more nobly shall requite Dull hobling Meeter on his Beard and Gown, Than you the most elab'rate lines I write.

And yet your Worship still gives me strict charge To write in Honour of your Patronage; And that my thoughts upon the Theam be large, And fav'ring of the smartness of the Age. Troth Sir, you have less Conscience than a Turk, To put an honest Muse on Conjuring Work, To make Wesphalia Hams of English Pork.