To a Friend who Persuades me to Leave the Muse

FORGO the charming Muses! No, in spite

Of your ill-natur’d prophecy I’ll write;

And for the future paint my thoughts at large,

I waste no paper at the Hundred’s charge:

I rob no neighb’ring geese of quills, nor slink,

For a collection, to the church for ink:

Beside, my Muse is the most gentle thing

That ever yet made an attempt to sing:

I call no lady punk, nor gallants fops,

Nor set the married world an edge for ropes;

Yet I’m so nat’rally inclin’d to rhyming,

That undesign’d, my thoughts burst out a-chiming;

My active genius will by no means sleep,

Pray let it then its proper channel keep.

I’ve told you, and you may believe me too,

That I must this, or greater mischief do;

And let the world think me inspir’d or mad,

I’ll surely write whilst paper ’s to be had.