To Master Bastard, a Minister that made a pleasant Booke of English Epigrams

THough dusty wits of this vngratefull time,
Carpe at thy booke of Epigrams, and scoffe it:
Yet wise men know, to mix the sweet with profit.
Is worthy praise, not onely void of crime.
Then let not enuy stop thy veine of Rime:
Nor let thy function make thee shamed of it:
A Poet is one step vnto a Prophet:
And such a step, as 'tis no shame to clime.
You must in Pulpit treat of matters serious:
As best beseeme the person, and the place,
There preach of Faith, Repentance, hope and grace,
Of Sacraments, and such high things mysterious.
But they are too seuere, and too imperious,
That vnto honest sports will grant no space:
For these our minds refresh, when those weary vs,
And spurre out doubled spirit to swifter pace.
The wholesom'st meates that are, will breed sacietie,
Except we should admit of some varietie.
n musike notes must be some high, some base.
And this I note, your Verses haue intendment,
Still kept within the lists of good sobrietie,
To worke in mens ill manners, good amendment.
Wherefore if any thinke such verse vnseasonable:
Their Stoicke mindes are foes to good societie,
And men of reason may thinke them vnreasonable.
t is an act of vertue and of pietie,
To warne v of our sinnes in any sort,
In prose, in verse, in earnest, or in sport.