[435] So Isham copy and eds. B, C.--Ed. A "wit."
[436] So Isham copy.--Ed. A "night-sports."
[437] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "Or."
[440] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "mine ever yours."
[442] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "through."
[443] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "dying."
[445] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "yeeld not."
[446] So eds. B, C.--Isham copy and ed. A "garland."
[447] So Isham copy and eds. A, B.--Ed. C "that I."
Tender Loves' mother[449] a new poet get, This last end to my Elegies is set.[450] Which I, Peligny's foster-child, have framed, Nor am I by such wanton toys defamed. Heir of an ancient house, if help that can, Not only by war's rage[451] made gentleman. In Virgil Mantua joys: in Catull Verone; Of me Peligny's nation boasts alone; Whom liberty to honest arms compelled, When careful Rome in doubt their prowess held.[452] 10 And some guest viewing watery Sulmo's walls, Where little ground to be enclosed befalls, "How such a poet could you bring forth?" says: "How small soe'er, I'll you for greatest praise." Both loves, to whom my heart long time did yield,[453] Your golden ensigns pluck[454] out of my field. Horned Bacchus graver fury doth distil, A greater ground with great horse is to till. Weak Elegies, delightful Muse, farewell; A work that, after my death, here shall dwell. 20
[450] "Marlowe's copy of Ovid had 'Traditur haec elegis ultima charta meis.'"--Dyce. (The true reading is "Raditur hic ... meta meis.")
[451] "Non modo militiae turbine factus eques."
[452] "Cum timuit socias anxia turba manus."
[453] "Marlowe's copy of Ovid had 'Culte puer, puerique parens _mihi tempore longo_.' (instead of what we now read 'Amathusia culti.')"--Dyce.
Fly, merry Muse, unto that merry town, Where thou mayst plays, revels, and triumphs see; The house of fame, and theatre of renown, Where all good wits and spirits love to be. Fall in between their hands that praise and love thee,[456] And be to them a laughter and a jest: But as for them which scorning shall reprove[457] thee, Disdain their wits, and think thine own the best. But if thou find any so gross and dull, That thinks I do to private taxing[458] lean, 10 Bid him go hang, for he is but a gull, And knows not what an epigram doth[459] mean, Which taxeth,[460] under a particular name, A general vice which merits public blame.