Epigram 4 (Wotton, the country and the country swayne,)

Wotton, the country and the country swayne,
How can they yeelde a Poet any sense?
How can they stirre him vp, or heat his vaine?
How can they feede him with intelligence?
You haue that fire which can a witt enflame,
In happy London Englands fayrest eye:
Well may you Poets haue of worthy name,
Which haue the foode and life of poetry.
And yet the country or the towne may swaye,
Or beare a part, as clownes doe in a play.