SAT. VI.

Another scorns the home-spun threed of rimes,
Match'd with the loftie feet of elder times:
Giue him the numbred verse that Virgil sung,
And Virgil selfe shall speake the English tongue:
Manhood & garboiles shall he chaunt with changed feete,
And head-strong Dactils making musicke meete,
The nimble Dactils striuing to out-goe
The drawling Spondees pacing it below.
The lingring Spondees , labouring to delay,
The breath-lesse Dactils with a sudden stay.
Who euer saw a colt wanton and wilde,
Yok'd with a slow-foote Oxe on fallow field,
Can right areed how handsomly besets
Dull Spondees with the English Dactilets ?
If Ioue speake English in a thundring cloud,
Thwick thwack , and rif raf , rores he out aloud.
Fie on the forged mint that did create
New coyne of words neuer articulate.