| Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904. | | | | Idea | | Sonnet 31. Methinks, I see some crooked Mimic jeer | | Michael Drayton (1563–1631) |
| | [First printed in 1599 (No. 31), and in all later editions.]
To the Critics |
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METHINKS, I see some crooked Mimic jeer, | |
| And tax my Muse with this fantastic grace; | |
| Turning my papers, asks, “What have we here?” | |
| Making withal some filthy antic face. | |
| I fear no censure, nor what thou canst say! | 5 |
| Nor shall my spirit, one jot of vigour lose! | |
| Think’st thou, my Wit shall keep the packhorse way, | |
| That every dudgen low Invention goes? | |
| Since Sonnets thus in bundles are imprest, | |
| And every drudge doth dull our satiate ear; | 10 |
| Think’st thou, my Love shall in those rags be drest, | |
| That every dowdy, every trull doth wear? | |
| Up to my pitch, no common judgement flies! | |
| I scorn all earthly dung-bred scarabies! | | | |
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