Andrew Marvell - To His Worthy Friend Doctor Witty Upon His Translation Of The Popular Errors lyrics

Sit further, and make room for thine own fame, Where just desert enrolles thy honour'd Name The good Interpreter. Some in this task Take of the Cypress vail, but leave a mask, Changing the Latine, but do more obscure That sence in English which was bright and pure. So of Translators they are Authors grown, For ill Translators make the Book their own. Others do strive with words and forced phrase To add such lustre, and so many rayes, That but to make the Vessel shining, they Much of the precious Metal rub away. He is Translations thief that addeth more, As much as he that taketh from the Store Of the first Author. Here he maketh blots That mends; and added beauties are but spots. Caelia whose English doth more richly flow Then Tagus, purer then dissolved snow, And sweet as are her lips that speak it, she Now learns the tongues of France and Italy; But she is Caelia still: no other grace But her own smiles commend that lovely face; Her native beauty's not Italianated, Nor her chast mind into the French translated: Her thoughts are English, though her sparkling wit With other Language doth them fitly fit. Translators learn of her: but stay I slide Down into Error with the Vulgar tide; Women must not teach here: the Doctor doth Stint them to Cawdles Almond-milk, and Broth. Now I reform, and surely so will all Whose happy Eyes on thy Translation fall, I see the people hastning to thy Book, Liking themselves the worse the more they look, And so disliking, that they nothing see Now worth the liking, but thy Book and thee. And (if I Judgement have) I censure right; For something guides my hand that I must write. You have Translations statutes best fulfil'd. That handling neither sully nor would guild