Page:The Crowne of all Homers Workes - Chapman (1624).djvu/196

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The Worke that I was borne to doe, is done.
Glory to him, that the Conclusion
Makes the beginning of my life: and Neuer
Let me be said to liue, till I liue Euer.
Where's the outliuing of my Fortunes then,
Ye errant vapors of Fames Lernean Fenn?
That (like possest stormes) blast all; not in Herde
With your abhorr'd heads: who, because casher'de
By Men, for Monsters; thinck Men, Monsters All,
That are not of your pyed Hood, and your Hall.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$When you are nothing but the scumm of things,
And must be cast off: Drones, that haue no stings,
Nor any more soule, then a stone hath wings.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Auant ye Haggs; your Hates, and Scandalls are,
The Crownes, and Comforts of a good Mans Care;
By whose impartiall Perpendiculare;
All is extuberance, and excretion All,
That you your Ornaments, and glories call.
Your wrie Mouthes censure right? your blister'd Tongues,
That licke but itches? and whose vlcerous Lungs
Come vp at all things permanent, and sound?
O you (like flies in Dreggs) in Humors droun'd;
Your loues, like Atoms, lost in gloomie Ayre;
I would not retriue with a wither'd Haire.
Hate, and cast still your stings then; for your kisses
Betray but Truth; and your Applaud's, are Hisses.

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