Those who with nine months toil had spoil’d a Play, In hopes of Eating at a full Third day, Justly despairing longer to sustain A craving Stomach from an empty Brain, Have left Stage-Practice, chang’d their old Vocations, Atoning for bad Plays, with worse Translations, And like old Sternhold with laborious spite, Burlesque what nobler Muses better write: Thus while they for their Causes only seem To change the Channel, they corrupt the Stream. So breaking Vintners to increase their Wine, With nauseous Drugs debauch the generous Vine: So barren Gipsies for recruit are said, With Strangers Issue to maintain the Trade; But lest the fair Bantling should be known, A daubing Walnut makes him all their own.