Parturient Montes Nascitur  
Is this your Loadestone Ben that must Attract
Applause and Laughter att each Scæne and Acte
Is this the Childe of your Bedridden witt
An[sic] none but the Black-friers foster ytt
Iff to the Fortune you had sent your Ladye
Mongest Prentizes, and Apell wyfes, ytt may bee
Your Rosie Foole might have some sporte have gott
With his strang habitt, and Indiffinett Nott
But when As silkes and plush, and all the witts
Are Calde to see, and Censure as befitts
And yff your Follye take not, they perchance
Must feare them selfes stilde Gentle Ignorance
Foh how it stinckes; what generall offence
Gives thy Prophanes, and grosse Impudence
O how thy frind, Natt Butter   gan to Melte
When as the poorenes of thy plotte he smelte
And Inigo with laughter ther grewe fatt
That thear was Nothing worth the Laughing att
And yett thou Crazye art Confidente
Belchinge out full mouthed oathes with foulle Intent
Calling us Fooles and Rogues unlettered men
Poor Narrow soules that Cannott Judge of Ben:
Yett which is wors after three shamfull foyles
The Printers must bee putt to further toyles  
Where as Indeed to (Vindicate thy fame)
Th'hadst better give thy Pamphelett to the flame
0 what a strange Prodigiows yeare twill bee
Yff this thy playe Come forth In thirtye three
Lett Doomse Day rather Come on New yeares Eve
And yff thy Paper plague the worlde bereave
Which Plague I feare worse then A sergeants bitt
Worse then the Infection or an Ague Fitt
Worse then Astronomers Devynning Lipps
Worse then three sunns, A Comett or Eclipps
Or yff thy Learned brother Allestree
(Whose Homer unto for Poetrye)
Should tell of Raigne uppon Saint Swithins day
And that should wash our harvest Clean away
As for the Press, yf thy Playe must Come toote
Let Thomas Purffoot or John Trundell doo'te
In such Dull Charrectors as for releiffs
of fines and wrackes wee find in Beggine briefes
But In Capp paper lett ytt printed bee
Indeed Browne paper Is to good for thee
And lett ytt bee so Apocriphall
As nott to dare to venture on A stall
Except ytt bee of Druggers Grocers Cookes
Victuallers Tobackoe men and suchlike Rookes
From Bucklers Burye lett ytt not be barde
But thincke nott of Ducke lane or Paules Churchyarde
Butt to advyse Ben, In this strickt Age
A Brickehill's fitter for then A stage
Thou better knowes a groundsell how to Laye
Then lay the plott or groundworke of A playe
And better canst derecte to Capp a Chimney
Then to Converse with Clio, or Polihimny
fall then to worke, In thy old Age agen
Take upp your Trugg and Trowell gentle Ben
Lett playes Alone, and yff thou needs wilte wright
and thrust thy feeble Muse Into the Light
Lett Lowine Cease, and Taylore   feare to Touch
The Loathed stage; for thou hast made ytt such.

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