Epilogue: Good Reader, if my harshe vnlearned rimes

Good Reader, if my harshe vnlearned rimes,
(Where with my Muse hath whipt these heedles times)
Hath pleasd thy pallat with their true endeauor:
She then will thinke her selfe most fortunate,
And shall heere after be importunate.
Her selfe in better labors to perseuer.
I speake not to those ignorant Iacke=,
That with their Canker-biting enuious iawes,
Will seeme to staine my Muses innocence.
But in all humblenes I yeeld to those,
Who are detracting Ignorances foes:
And loues the labors of each good pretence.
Dislike and scorne may chance my Booke to smother,
But kinde acceptance brings forth such another.