Aut monologue (Act 4) — The Poetaster

It is not so. I used no name. My books have still been taught To spare the persons, and to speak the vices. These are mere slanders, and enforced by such As have no safer ways to men's disgraces. But their own lies and loss of honesty: Fellows of practised and most laxative tongues, Whose empty and eager bellies, in the year, Compel their brains to many desperate shifts, (I spare to name them, for their wretchedness Fury itself would pardon). These, or such, Whether of malice, or of ignorance, Or itch t' have me their adversary, I know not, Or all these mixt; but sure I am, three years They did provoke me with their petulant styles On every stage: and I at last unwilling, But weary, I confess, of so much trouble, Thought I would try if shame could win upon 'em,' And therefore chose Augustus Caesar's times, When wit and area were at their height in Rome, To shew that Virgil, Horace, and the rest Of those great master-spirits, did not want Detractors then, or practicers against them: And by this line, although no parallel, I hoped at last they would sit down and blush; But nothing I could find more contrary. And though the impudence of flies be great, Yet this hath so provok'd the angry wasps, Or, as you said, of the next nest, the hornets, That they fly buzzing, mad, about my nostrils, And, like so many screaming grasshoppers Held by the wings, fill every ear with noise. And what? those former calumnies you mention'd. First, of the law: indeed I brought in Ovid Chid by his angry father for neglecting The study of their laws for poetry: And I am warranted by his own words: