Listen (decaying Ben) and Counsell heare,
wittes have their date and strength of braines may weare;
Age, steept In sacke, hath quencht thy Enthean fier,
wee pittye now, whom once wee did Admire.
Surrender then thy right to th'stage; forbeare
to dare to wright what others Loath to heare,
and justlye, since thy Crazye Muse doth now
To quitte her Spartane province   fayntly knowe.
Swear not by God tis good, for yf you doe,
The world will taxe your zeale, and Judgment too.
for In a Poett, yf that's last regarded,
New Inn's discretion hath quite discarded;
from Aganippes pale and plact Amonge
Not the giddye headed, but the Unbrowed Thronge.
Rayle not att the Actors; doe not them Abuse,
Action to dullness Cannott Life Infuse;
for Velvett, Scarlett, Plush, doe tell you true,
t'was not their Cloaths, but thay did blush for you
to see; and was not that, Just cause of rage?
Weaknes and Impudence possesst the stage,
Injurde the strength of Witt, now cloyde and dry.
Goodstocke, Prue, Frampole, Huffell, Burst, Typ, Fly,
And their Comrades, whose Language but to heare
Might stricke A surfett Into A gentle eare.
But lett me tell thee this, Ben, by the way,
Thy Argument's as tedious as thy play;
Thou saist noe Palsye doth thy Brayne pan vex,
I pray tell me what? an Apoplex?
Thy Pegasus can stir, yett thy best Care
Makes her but shuffle lyke the parson [sic] mare  
who from his owne side witt sayes thus by mee:
hee hath bequeath'd his bellye unto thee
To holde that little Learning, which is fled
Into thy Gutts from out thy Emptye head.
Yett thou art Confident, & darst still sweare,
The fault's not In thy Brain, but In their eare.
What dismale fate is this, thus on thee seaseth?
Thy worth doth fayle; thy Arrogance Increaseth;
Pride and presumption hath dethronde thy witt,
And sett upp Philautie In place of ytt,
Thy Innbred Darling, whose strong selfe Conceipt,
forstalling prayse, did thy Just prayse defeate.
Worth being selfe praisd, doth fall; hee is the best Poett
Can justly merritt Prayse, & yett scarce knowe ytt.
But tis New Inn's disaster, not to knowe
What or thy selfe, or others can Allow.
Wee wronge nott, for take thy enraged Appeale,
twill rather fester thy Mad wound then heale.
For knowe, what   Justly doth dispise,
doth prove A greater scandall to our eyes;
And sure that sensure must Impartiall bee
whear readers and spectators both agree:
Yett, yff pure need Inforce thee to this shame,
we proner are to Advise thee, then to blame.
Since Witts doe fayle, thou wert best, pore Crackt braine elfe,
To turne mine host, and keep new Inn thy selfe:
But Change thy signe yff thoult bee ruld by me,
No more Light Hart, but Light Brayne lett ytt bee.

Thy Hostler Peck Abused thus the Jade
of this fatt-bellied Parson, who thes made.