The Plunder. 1677

I'M told (and therefore well may hope for Bayes)
You have been pleas'd my Tragedy to praise.
It unregarded was by me before,
Like a rude lump of undigested Oare.
Made current by your praise, It now may pass:
So Princes Stamps put value upon Brass.
But then your Warrant must be sign'd and shown;
Else may the value of it be unknown.
The World's applause will then obedience be
To you, and your respects applause to me.
Being honour'd with your Badge 't will be allow'd;
And pass, if not alone, yet in the Crowd.
I, all its Wit, and Worth must duly own
As yours, and by your Mark 'twill best be known.
For Wit, as your Propriety, is meant;
And such Acknowledgments as this, your Rent.
The Criticks then must hazard loss and shame,
If they distresses make upon your claim.
Bald Gybes, and Censures hurt not so my Muse,
As they your Representatives abuse.
Bold Grillon and the generous Navarre,
I here acknowledge but your Transcripts are.
Your Conversation does the Poet make;
And from your Words and Acts I Heroes take.
Each visit's plunder; for I steal away
More Wit at once, than would make up a Play.