Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain, 1
who after birth didst by my side remain, 2
till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, 3
who thee abroad, exposed to public view, 4
made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge, 5
where errors were not lessened (all may judge). 6
at thy return my blushing was not small, 7
my rambling brat (in print) should mother call, 8
i cast thee by as one unfit for light, 9
the visage was so irksome in my sight; 10
yet being mine own, at length affection would 11
thy blemishes amend, if so i could. 12
i washed thy face, but more defects i saw, 13
and rubbing off a spot still made a flaw. 14
i stretched thy joints to make thee even feet, 15
yet still thou run’st more hobbling than is meet; 16
in better dress to trim thee was my mind, 17
but nought save homespun cloth i’ th’ house i find. 18
in this array ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam. 19
in critic’s hands beware thou dost not come, 20
and take thy way where yet thou art not known; 21
if for thy father asked, say thou hadst none; 22
and for thy mother, she alas is poor, 23
which caused her thus to send thee out of door. 24
of what are the speaker's friends guilty?
a - taking her book and having it published without her knowledge.
b - betraying her by giving her book to a rival publisher.
c - revising her work without her knowledge.
d - snatching her child and exposing it to the public.