Epigram 20. To Thalia

Weep out thine eyes (Thalia!) why are they
Unmelted yet into an Inland-Sea?
Drown all thy slanderers with them; such as dare
Affirm thee guilty, and thy name not fair:
Or rather scorn their Ignorance that frame
Unworthy Calumnies against thy Name.
Mnemosyne, thou mother of the maides,
And you sweet Sisters that in Ascra shades
(Retired from the troubles of the Earth)
To many a lasting verse give fortunate birth;
Do'st not offend you that the Comick Muse
Should suffer such affronts, and high abuse?
Because that I frequent the thronged Stage,
I'm censur'd by the malice of this Age
Of Levity; but I despise the frowns
Of rigid Cato's, and the hiss of Clowns.
Illiterate Fools may please their gluttonous tast
At dinner with some Epicure-Lord, and wast
Their precious dayes in riot; whil'st I feed
Mine ears with all the wit these Times do breed.
Sing loud, Thalia! Noble Souls will love
To see thy Servants in their Socks to move:
And may their ends be Tragical that hate
The harmless mirth thy Comedies create.
I do profess I'm one that do admire
Each word refin'd in true Poetick fire:
And do approve of natural action, where
Fables seem as true passages they were:
And love our Theatres of worth, where we
May thee in all thy several dresses see.