It will be looked for, book, when some but see <br /> Thy title, <br />Epigrams <br />, and named of me, <br />Thou should'st be bold, licentious, full of gall, <br /> Wormwood and sulphur, sharp and toothed withal, <br />Become a petulant thing, hurl ink and wit <br /> As madmen stones, not caring whom they hit. <br />Deceive their malice who could wish it so, <br /> And by thy wiser temper let men know <br />Thou art not covetous of least self-fame <br /> Made from the hazard of another's shame- <br />Much less with lewd, profane, and beastly phrase <br /> To catch the world's loose laughter or vain gaze. <br />He that departs with his own honesty <br /> For vulgar praise, doth it too dearly buy.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-my-book/
