MANY there be excelling in this kind,
Whose well-tricked rhymes with all invention swell ;
Let each commend as best shall like his mind,
Some Sidney, Constable, some Daniel.
That thus their names familiarly I sing,
Let none think them disparagèd to be ;
Poor men with reverence may speak of a king,
And so may these be spoken of by me.
My wanton verse ne'er keeps one certain stay,
But now at hand, then seeks invention far,
And with each little motion runs astray,
Wild, madding, jocund and irregular.
Like me that lust, my honest merry rhymes
Nor care for critic, nor regard the times.