Those who with nine months toil had spoil’d a Play,
In hopes of Eating at a full Third day,
Justly despairing longer to sustain
A craving Stomach from an empty Brain,
Have left Stage-Practice, chang’d their old Vocations,
Atoning for bad Plays, with worse Translations,
And like old Sternhold with laborious spite,
Burlesque what nobler Muses better write:
Thus while they for their Causes only seem
To change the Channel, they corrupt the Stream.
So breaking Vintners to increase their Wine,
With nauseous Drugs debauch the generous Vine:
So barren Gipsies for recruit are said,
With Strangers Issue to maintain the Trade;
But lest the fair Bantling should be known,
A daubing Walnut makes him all their own.