available to download in its entirety from Google Books
“To My Bookseller”
THOU that mak’st gain thy end, and wisely well,
Call’st a book good, or bad, as it doth sell,
Use mine so too ; I give thee leave ; but crave,
For the luck’s sake, it thus much favor have,
To lie upon thy stall, till it be sought ;
Not offered, as it made suit to be bought ;
Nor have my title-leaf on posts or walls,
Or in cleft-sticks, advanced to make calls
For termers, or some clerk-like serving-man,
Who scarce can spell thy hard names ; whose knight less can.
If without these vile arts it will not sell,
Send it to Bucklersbury, there ‘t will well.
[image thanks to Sarah’s Books blog]