Epigram 2 (Carus abuseth me and saith I fill,)

Carus abuseth me and saith I fill,
My papers with fond trifles and delightes.
Would I could make so well as he can spill.
Yet is there something more in my short writs.
For tell me Carus, if I be so vaine,
As of meere courtesy you say I am:
Where did I borrow of an idle brain?
What common iest lent me an Epigram?
And yet I can be plaine, do not mistake.
But if I be, it shall be for your sake.