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Torbat imcomparable Panegyrift, the Author of the

Satyr upon Wit. By Coll. Bl
H Exceforth no more in thy Poetick Rage

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---sth's immortal Lays)
The keenest Satyr with the best of Praise.
Thy Satyrs bite not, but, like Æsop's Afs,
Thou kick'it the Darling whom thou would's caress.
Would'st thou our Youch from Poetry affright,
'Tis wisely done, thy self in Verfe to write.
So drunken Slaves the Spartans did design
Should fright their Children from the Love of Wine:
Go on, and rail as thou haft done before;
Thus Lovers use, when picqu'd in an Amour,
The Nymph they can't enjoy, they call a Whore.

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The Quack corrected: Or, Advice to the Knight

of the Ill-favour'd Muse.

By the Right Honourable the Earl of
L

ET BI-re still, in good King Arthur's Vein,
To Fleckno's Empire bis juit Righe maintain..

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Let him his own to common Sense oppose,
With Praise and Slander maul both Friends and Fces
Let him great. Dryden's awful Name prophane,
And learned Garth, with envious Pride, disdain ;
Codron's bright Genius with vile Pans lam poong
And run a Muck at all the Wits in Town;
Let the Quack fcribble any thing burt Bills,
His Satyr wounds nor, but his Physick kills.

To the merry Poetaster at Sadler's-Hall in

Cheapfide, By Dr. ***

Nweildy Pedant, let thy awkward Mure

With Censures praise, with Flatteries abufe.
To lash, and not be felt, in thee's an Art ;
Thou ne'er mad'st any, but thy School-Bogs, finaste
Then be advis’d, and fcribble not agen ;
Thou're fathion'd for a Flail, and not a Pen.
If EP's immortal Wir thou would'It defcry,
Pretend 'tis lie 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.

com he should correct,
Like which 110 other Piece can e'er be wrought,
For Decency of Stile, and Life of Thought;
But that where my shall in Judgment fit,
To pare Excrefcencies from Ble's Wit

To

To the Mirror of British Knighthood, the worthy

Author of the Satyr against Wit: Occasion d by the Hemiflick, Pag. 8.

By Richard Steel, Efq;

M

- Heav'nts gurard poor Amino UST I'then. paflive stand? And can I hear

The Man I love abus'd, and yet forbear?
Yet must I thank thy Favour to my Friend,
Twas fome Remorse thou did'ft'not him commod.
Thou dost not all my Indignation raise ;
For I prefer thy Pity to chy. Praife.
In vain thou wonld'nt thy Name, dull Pedant, hide;
There's not a Line but fmells of thy Cheapside.
If Cefar's Bounty for your Trash you've fhard,
You're not the first Anune he has spar'd.
His Mercy, not his Justice, made thee Knight,
Which Part-, may demand with equal Right.

Well may'st thou think an: nfeless Talent. Wit;
Thou, who without it, halt three Poenis wric :
Impenitrally dully secure thou’rt found,
And can'ít receive no more than give a Wound :
Then, scorn'd by all, to fome dark Corner fly,
And in Lethargick Trance expiring lie,
'Till chou from injur'd Garth thy Cure receive,
And Sd only Abfolution give. .

1

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To the Cheapside Kt. on his Satyr against Wit

By Mr.William Burnaby.
S
Ome fcribbling Fops fo little value Fame,
They sometimes hir, because they never aim.

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But

But thou for Erring hast a certain Rule,
And, aiming, art inviolably dull.
Thy muddy Stream 110 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'st sink as much as they can rise.

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0V-n, you,

! S--95, T-t, Dett, Mogile,

Who suffer Blmre to insult your Taste,
And ta mely hear him blufter in Bombart,
Bid him, before he dare to write agen,
Resign his own, and take some other pente
D-n fhall Numbers, C-de Wit infpire,
Dr-ke's nicest Rules, but Bumle 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 Rmf's Scholarship, and G. n's Wit.

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A modeft Request to the Poetical Knight:

By Col. Codrington.
Ince Bag's Nonsense to out-do you strive,

,
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 Job and us no more.

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Wholesome Advice to a City Knight, over-run with

Rhimes and Hypocrisy: Occasin’d by his Sa

tyr against Wit. By the Right Honourable the Earl of Anglesea..

E bid thee not give o'er the Killing-Trade:
W
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 less.

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