Totbat imcomparable Panegyrist, the Author of the Satyr upon
Wit.
Burlesque the God-like Heroes of the Age ;
No more King Arthurs be with Labour writ,
But follow Nature, and still rail at Wit :
For this thy mighty Genius was design'd;
In this thy Cares a due Success may find.
Opinions we more easily receive
From Guides that practise by those Rules they give.
So Dullness thou may'st write into Esteem;
Thy great Example, as it is thy Thème.
Hope not to join (like G---ftl's immortal Lays)
The keenest Satyr with the best of Praise.
Thy Satyrs bite not, but, like Æsop's Ass,
Thou kick'it the Darling whom thou would'st caress.
Would'ft thou our Youth from Poetry affright,
'Tis wisely done, thy self in Verse to write.
So drunken Slaves the Spartans did design
Should fright their Children from the Love of Wine.*
Go on, and rail as thou had done before;
Thus Lovers use, when picqu’d in an Amour,
The Nymph they can't enjoy, they call a Whore.
The Quack corrected: Or, Advice to the Knight
of the Ill-favour'd Muse.
By the Right Honourable the Earl of
L
ET Bre still, in good King Arthur's Vein,
To Fleckno's Empire his juit Righe maintain..
Eo3
Let him his own to common Sense oppose,
With Praise and Slander maul both Friends and Fees
Let him great. Dryden's awful Name prophane,
And learned Garth, with envious Pride, difdain ;
Codron's bright Genius with vile Puns lampoon,
And run a Muck at all the Wits in Town;
Let the Quack feribble any thing burt Bills,
His Satyr wounds nor, but his Physick kills.
To the merry Poetaster at Sadler's-Hall in
Cheapfide, By Dr. *** UN
Nweildy Pedant, let thy awkward Mure
With Censures praise, with Flatceries abufe.
To lash, and not be felt, in thee's an Art ;
Thou ne'er mad'st any, but thy School-Bogs, finast
Then be advis'd, and scribble not agen;
Thou’rt' fathion'd for a Flail, and not a Pen.
If EP's immortal Wir thou would'It' descry,
Pretend 'tis he that writ chy Poetry.
Thy feeble Satyr ne'er can do him Wrong;
Thy Poems and thy Patients live not long.
An equal Match; Or, A drawn Battle.
By Col. Codrington.
Monument of Dullness to erect,
A
By should write, and Bl.
name re should correct,
Like which no other Piece can e'er be wronght,
For Decency of Stile, and Life of Thought; .
But thać where by shall in Judgment fit,
To pare Excrescencies from Ble's Witi
To
To the Mirror of British Knighthood, the worthy
Author of the Satyr against Wit: Occafiond by the Hemistick, Pag. 8.
By Richard Steel, Efg
Heav'ns girard poor Amino USTI then. paflive stand? And can I hear
The Man I love abus'd, and yet forbear? Yet mult I thank thy Favour to my Friend,
Twas fome Remorse thou did'ft'not him commeau.
Thou doft not all my Indignation raise ;
For I prefer.thy Pity to thy Praise.
In vain thou would'st thy Name, dull Pedant, hide;
There's not a Line bac smells of thy Cheapside.
If Cæsar's Bounty for your Trash you've shar’d,
You're not the first Aline he has spar'd.
His Mercy, not his Justice, made thee Knight,
Which Primr may demand with equal Right.
Well may'st thou thinkan nfeless Talent. Wit;
Thou, who withour it, halt three Poenis wric :
Impenitrally dull, secure thau're found,
And can'ít receive no more than give a Wound :
Then, fcorn'd by all, to fome dark Corner fly,
And in Lethargick Trance expiring lie,
'Till thou from injur'd Gwrth thy Cure receive,
And S-d only Absolution give. .
To the Cheapfide Kt. on bis Satyr against Wit
By Mr.Willian Burnaby:
S
Oine fcribbling Fops so little value Fame,
They sometimes hir, because they never aim.
But thou for Erring hast a certain Rule,
And, aiming, art inviolably dull.
Thy muddy Strcam no lucid Drop supplies,
Bat Puns like Bubbles on the Surface rise.
All that for Wit you could, you've kindly done ;
You cannot write, but can be writ upon.
And a like Fate does either Side befit,
Immortal Dullness; or immortal Wit.
In just Extreams an equal Merit lies,
And B-ole and Garth with thee must share the Prize,
Since thou can'ft fink_as much as they can rise.
! Soys, T-t, Dett, Magie,
G-S-Id, C-, P-le, V-, you,
who suffer Blmre to insult your Taste,
And ta mely hear him blufter in Bombast,
Bid him, before he dare to write agen,
Resign his own, and take some other Peni.
D-n fhall Numbers, C-ve Wit infpire,
Dr_ke's nicest Rules, but Bomle and Codron's Fire. .
Then Garth shall teach him, and his witless Tribe,
First to write Sense, and after to prescribe.
The unlearn’d Pedant thus may please che Town,
But his own nauseous Trash will ne'er go down;
For nought can equal what the Bard has writ,
But R-f's Scholarship, and G-n's Wit.
A modef Request to the Poetical Knight:
By Col. Codrington
Ince
Vain to be thought the dullest Wretch alive,.
And such inimitable Strains have writ,
That the most famous Blockheads must submit;
Long may you reign, and long unenvy'd live,
And none invade your great Prerogative.
But, in Return, your Poetry give o'er,
And persecute poor fob and us no more,
Wholesome Advice to a City Knight, over-run with
Rhimes and Hypocrisy: Occasión'd by his Sa
tyr against Wit. By the Right Honourable the Earl of Anglésea.. WE
E bid thee not give o'er the Killing•Trade:
Whilft Fees come in, 'tis fruitless to disswades Religion is a Trick you've practis'd long, To bring in Pence, and gull the gaping Throng But all thy Patients now perceive thy Aim, They find thy Morals and thy Skill the same. Then, if thou would'st thy Ignorance redress, Prithee, mind Phyfick more, and Rhiming lesss.
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