Direct reading · Original
Section 512
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Hotsp.
Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Then one of these same Meeter Ballad‑mongers:
I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle‑tree,
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;
'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge.