Rhime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter...the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing.

And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.

So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'd His nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious of his quarry from so far.

My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!

The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.

Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell.

And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons.