• O ruff-embastioned vast Elizabeth,
• Bush to these bushel-bellied casks of wine,
• Home-growth, 'tis true, but rank as turpentine,—
• What thought'st thou of such skittle-plays at death?
• Say, must we watch these brawlers' brandished lathe
• Or to their reeking wit our ears incline,
• Because all Castal flowed crystalline
• In gentle Shakspeare's modulated beath?

• What! must our drama with rat-pit vie,
• 10Nor the scene close while one is left to kill?
• Write thus, & be a poet! Hark, thou man
• Of blood, thou cannibalic Caliban,
• What shall be said to thee?—A poet?—Fie!
• “An honorable murderer, if you will.”

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