Whoever thinks a faultless piece to fee,

Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er fhall be.
In ev'ry work regard the writer's end,

Since none can compafs more than they intend;
And if the means be juft, the conduct true,
Applaufe, in fpight of trivial faults, is due.
As men of breeding, fometimes men of wit,
T'avoid great errors, muft the less commit:
Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,
For not to know fome trifles, is a praise.
Moft critics, fond of some fubfervient art,
Still make the whole depend upon a part,
They talk of principles, but notions prize,
And all to one lov'd folly facrifice.

Once on a time, La Mancha's Knight, they fay,
A certain Bard encount'ring on the way,
Difcours'd in terms as juft, with looks as fage,
As e'er could Dennis, of the laws o'th' stage;
Concluding all were defp'rate fots and fools,
That durft depart from Ariftotle's rules.
Our author, happy in a judge fo nice,

Produc'd his play, and begg'd the Knight's advice;

Made him obferve the fubject and the plot,

The manners, paffions, unities, what not?

AN

All which, exact to rule, were brought about,

Were but a combate in the lifts left out.

"What! leave the combate out?" exclaims the

[knight;

Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite.
"Not fo by heav'n" (he answers in a rage)
Knights,fquires,and fteeds, muft enter on the stage.",
The ftage can ne'er so vaft a throng contain.
Then build a new, or act it in a plain.

Thus critics, of lefs judgment than caprice,
Curious, not knowing, not exact, but nice,
Form fhort ideas; and offend in arts

(As moft in manners) by a love to parts.
Some to conceit alone their taste confine,
And glitt'ring thoughts ftruck out at ev'ry line;
Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;
One glaring chae and wild heap of wit mit hoo
Poets like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace
The naked nature and the living grace, ̄-
With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part,
And hide with ornaments their want of art.

True wit is, nature to advantage drefs'd,

NX300

What oft' was thought, but ne'er fo well exprefs'd;'

* Naturam intueamur, hanc fequamur; id facillimè accipiunt animi quod agnofcunt. Quintil. lib. 8. c. 3..

Something

Something, whofe truth convinc'd at fight we find,

That gives us back the image of our mind.
As fhades more fweetly recommend the light,
So modeft plainnefs fets off sprightly wit:
For works may have more wit than does 'em good,
As bodies perifh through excess of blood.

Others for language all their care exprefs,
And value books, as women men, for dress:
Their praise is still the style is excellent:
The fenfe, they humbly take upon content.
Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
Much fruit of fenfe beneath is rarely found.
Falfe eloquence, like the prifmatic glass;
Its gawdy colours spreads on ev'ry place;
The face of nature we no more furvey,
All glares alike, without diftinction gay:
But true expreffion, like th' unchanging Sun,
Clears, and improves whate'er it fhines upon,
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
Expreffion is the dress of thought, and still
Appears more decent, as more fuitable;
A vile conceit in pompous words exprefs'd,
Is like a clown in regal purple drefs'd:

C

}

For

For diffrent styles with diff'rent subjects fort, 325
As feveral garbs with country, town, and court.
Some *by old words to fame have made pretence:
Ancients in phrafe, mere moderns in their sense!
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,
Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned fmile.
Unlucky, as Fungofo in the † play,

Thefe fparks with aukward vanity difplay
What the fine gentlemen wore yesterday:

And but fo mimic ancient wits at beft,

As apes our grandfires, in their doublets dreft.
In words, as fashions, the fame rule will hold;
Alike fantastic, if too new, or old;

Be not the first by whom the new are try'd,
Nor yet the last to lay the old afide.

}

But most by numbers judge a poet's fong, And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong;

* Abolita & abrogata retinere, infolentia cujufdam eft, & frivola in parvis jactantia, Quintil. lib. 1. c. 6.

Opus eft ut verba à vetuftate repetita neque crebra fint, neque manifefta, quia nil eft odiofius affectatione, nec utique ab ultimis repetita temporibus. Oratio cujus fumma virtus eft perfpicuitas, quàm fit vitiofa fi egeat interprete? Ergo ut novorum optima erunt maximè vetera, ita veterum maximè nova. Idem.

↑ Ben Johnson's every man in his humour.

Quis populi fermo eft? quis enim ? nifi carmine molli
Nunc demum numero fluere, ut per lave feveros

Effugit junctura ungues: fcit tendere verfum ;
Non fecus ac fi oculo rubricam dirigat uno.

Perfius, Sat. r.

In

In the bright mufe tho' thoufand charms confpire,
Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;

Who haunt Parnaffus but to please their ear,
Not mend their minds; as fome to church repair,
Not for the doctrine, but the mufic there.
Thefe equal fyllables alone require,

Tho' * oft' the ear the open vowels tire;
While expletives their feeble aid do join;

And ten low words oft' creep in one dull line; 350
While they ring round the fame unvary'd chimes,
With fure returns of ftill-expected rhymes.
Where-e'er you find the cooling western breeze,
In the next line, it whispers thro' the trees;
If cryftal ftreams with pleafing murmurs creep,
The reader's threaten'd (not in vain) with fleep.
Then, at the laft, an only couplet fraught
With fome unmeaning thing they call a thought,
A needlefs Alexandrine ends the fong,

That like a wounded fnake, drags its flow length along.
Leave fuch to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
What's roundly fmooth, or languishingly flow;

Fugiemus crebras vocalium concurfiones, que vaftam atque hiantem orationem reddunt. Cic, ab Herenn. lib. 4. Vide etiam Quintil. lib. 9. C. 4.