Epistles 1.20 (Creech): Vertumnum Janumque

I Know you long to visit every Stall,
You would be neatly bound, and set to Sale;
The bars, that please the modest, trouble you,
And you Commend, and Court the publick view,
And mourn that you are hid, and seen by few.
Go to the publick then, go where you strive,
Tho thou wert not bred thus, or taught to live:
There shall be no return when once thour't gone,
And thou wilt cry, Ah me! What have I done!
What have I beg'd! When one shall call thee dull,
And squeeze Thee when his Belly's quickly full.
But now unless fond rage besots my mind,
Unless meer hatred to thy faults does blind,
I Prophesie, and I am sure 'tis true;
You shall be lik'd and prais'd at Rome whilst new;
But when thou shalt be soil'd by every hand,
Then slighted, and to common use prophan'd;
To bind up Letters, and be torn, be tost,
And fly to other Countries every Post.
Then I who have advis'd in vain, shall smile,
As He that drove his Ass t'a craggy Hill:
For who would save a thing against its Will?
At last in Schools thou shalt be thumb'd by Boys,
And there grow foolish, old, and deaf with noise.
But when at Evening many come to read,
Tell them that I was meanly born and bred,
My Father poor, of small Estate possest,
And that I stretch't my Wings beyond my Nest.
But as you cut me short in Wealth, increase
My Vertues, tell them I the greatest please,
A little Man, and studious of my ease.
And pettish too, I can be angry soon,
My Passion's quickly rais'd, but quickly gone.
Grown gray before my time, I hate the cold,
And seek the warmth; and if they ask how old,
Now Lepidus and Lollius are in Power,
Tell them I'me Four and Forty and no more.