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Short poem

Michael Drayton (1563-1631)


              1Methinks I see some crooked mimic jeer
              2And tax my muse with this fantastic grace,
              3Turning my papers, asks "what have we here?"
              4Making withall some filthy antic face.
              5I fear no censure, nor what thou canst say,
              6Nor shall my spirit one jot of vigour lose.
              7Think'st thou my wit shall keep the pack-horse way
              8That ev'ry dudgeon low invention goes?
              9Since sonnets thus in bundles are impress'd,
            10And ev'ry drudge doth dull our satiate ear,
            11Think'st thou my love shall in those rags be dress'd
            12That ev'ry dowdy, ev'ry trull doth wear?
            13Up to my pitch no common judgment flies:
            14I scorn all earthly dung-bred scarabies.


8] dudgeon: a plain kind of wood used for making the hilts of common daggers.

14] scarabies: beetles.

Online text copyright © 2003, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: Michael Drayton, Poems (W. Stansby for J. Swethwicke, 1619). STC 7222. Facs. edn.: Scolar Press, 1969. PR 2255 A1 1619A.
First publication date: 1599
RPO poem editor: F. D. Hoeniger
RP edition: 3RP 1.129.
Recent editing: 2:2002/4/26

Form: sonnet
Rhyme: ababcdcdefefgg

Other poems by Michael Drayton