Book V, Epigram 91: Ad Detractorem

Though thou dost bark against me still
With bitter yelpings of ill will,
That fame shall sure thee be denyed
In my books to be notified,
Though tis desired of old by thee
Through the world to be read with mee.
For why should men know thou hast bin?
Obscurely perish in thy sin.
Yet peradventure there may bee
In this great Citty two or three
A dogs skin that would dain to gnaw,
That scab my nails shall never claw.