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Hoping (their outsides being mis-esteem'd)
They might have passed but for what they seem'd;
Yet some, whose comments jump not with my mind,
In that low phrase a higher reach would find,
And out of their deep judgements seem to know
What 'tis uncertain if I meant or no;

Aiming thereby, out of some private hate,
To work my shame or overthrow my state.
For, amongst many wrongs my foe doth do me,
And divers imputations laid unto me,

(Deceived in his aim) he doth misconster

That which I have enstil'd a Man-like Monster,
To mean some private person in the State,
Whose worth I sought to wrong out of my hate,
Upbraiding me, I from my word do start,
Either for want of better ground or heart,
'Cause from his expectation I did vary
In the denying of his commentary;

Whereas 'tis known I meant Abuse the while,
Not thinking any one could be so vile
To merit all those epithets of shame,
However many do deserve much blame.

But say (I grant) that I had an intent
To have it so (as he interprets) meant,
And let my gracious Liege suppose there were
One, whom the State may have just cause to fear;

Or think there were a man (and great in Court)
That had more faults than I could well report;
Suppose I knew him, and had gone about
By some particular marks to point him out,
That he, best knowing his own faults, might see
He was the man I would should noted be;
Imagine now such doings in this age,

And that this man, so pointed at, should rage,

Call me in question, and by his much threat'ning, By long imprisonment and ill-entreating,

Urge a confession; wer't not a mad part

For me to tell him what lay in my heart?

Do not I know, a great man's power and might,
In spite of innocence, can smother right,
Colour his villainies to get esteem,

And make the honest man the villain seem;
And that the truth I told should in conclusion,
For want of power and friends, be my confusion?
I know it, and the world doth know 'tis true;
Yet I protest if such a man I knew,
That might my country prejudice, or thee,
Were he the greatest or the proudest he,
That breathes this day (if so it might be found,
That any good to either might redound),
So far I'll be (though fate against me run)
From starting off from that I have begun,

I unappalled dare in such a case

Rip up his foulest crimes before his face,
Though for my labour I were sure to drop
Into the mouth of ruin without hope.

But such strange far-fetch'd meanings they have sought,

As I was never privy to in thought,

And that unto particulars would tie,

Which I intended universally;

Whereat, some with displeasure over-gone,

(Those I scarce dream'd of, saw, or thought upon,)
Maugre those caveats on my Satyr's brow,
Their honest and just passage disallow,
And on their heads so many censures rake,
That, spite of me, themselves they'll guilty make.
Nor is't enough to 'swage their discontent,

To say I am (or to be) innocent;

For as, when once the lion made decree

No horned beast should nigh his presence be,.
That on whose forehead only did appear

A bunch of flesh or but some tuft of hair,
Was even as far in danger as the rest,
If he but said it was a horned beast;

So there be now, who think in that their power
Is of much force or greater far than our,.
It is enough to prove a guilt in me,

Because (mistaking) they so think't to be.

Yet 'tis my comfort they are not so high
But they must stoop to thee and equity;

And this I know, though prick'd they storm again,
The world doth deem them ne'er the better men.
To stir in filth makes not the stench the less,
Nor doth Truth fear the frown of Mightiness;
Because those numbers she doth deign to grace
Men may suppress awhile, but ne'er deface.

I wonder, and 'tis wondered at by many,
My harmless lines should breed distaste in
any;
And so that (whereas most good men approve
My labour to be worthy thanks and love)
I as a villain, and my country's foe,
Should be imprison'd, and so strictly too,
That not alone my liberty is barr'd,

But the resort of friends (which is more hard),
And whilst each wanton or loose rhymer's pen
With oily words sleeks o'er the sins of men,
Wailing his wits to every puppet's beck,
Which ere I'll do, I'll joy to break my neck;
(I say) while such as they in every place
Can find protection, patronage and grace,
If any look on me, 'tis but askance,
Or if I get a favour, 'tis by chance.
I must protect myself: poor Truth and I
Can have scarce one speak for our honesty.

Then, whereas they can gold and gifts attain,
Malicious hate and envy is my gain;

And not alone have here my freedom lost,
Whereby my best hope's likely to be crost,
But have been put to more charge in one day,
Than all my patron's bounties yet will pay.
What I have done was not for thirst of gain,
Or out of hope preferments to attain ;

Since to contemn them would more profit me,
Than all the glories in the world that be;
Yet they are helps to Virtue, used aright;

And when they wanting be, she wants her might;
For eagle's minds ne'er fit a raven's feather:
To dare, and to be able, suit together.

But what is't I have done so worthy blame,
That some so eagerly pursue my fame?
Vouchsafe to view't with thine own eyes, and try
(Save want of art) what fault thou canst espie.
I have not sought to scandalize the State,
Nor sown sedition, nor made public hate;
I have not aim'd at any good man's fame,
Nor tax'd (directly) any one by name;
I am not he that am grown discontent
With the religion or the government;
I meant no ceremonies to protect,
Nor do I favour any new-sprung sect;

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