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And none had sense enough to be confuted. Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain

Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Ducklane.

If Faith itself has diff'rent dresses worn, What wonder modes in Wit should take their turn?

Oft, leaving what is natural and fit,
The current Folly proves the ready Wit;
And authors think their reputation safe, 250
Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to
laugh.

Some, valuing those of their own side or mind,

Still make themselves the measure of mankind:

Fondly we think we honour merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

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What is this Wit, which must our cares employ?

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The owner's wife that other men enjoy; Then most our trouble still when most admired,

And still the more we give, the more required;

Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease,

Sure some to vex, but never all to please, 'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun;

By fools 't is hated, and by knaves undone!

If Wit so much from Ignorance undergo,

Ah, let not Learning too commence its foe!

Of old those met rewards who could excel, 310

And such were prais'd who but endeavour'd well;

Tho' triumphs were to gen'rals only due, Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers too.

Now they who reach Parnassus' lofty

crown

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The Fair sat panting at a courtier's play, And not a mask went unimprov'd away; The modest fan was lifted up no more, And virgins smil'd at what they blush'd before.

The following license of a foreign reign Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain; Then unbelieving priests reform'd the nation,

And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;

Where Heav'n's free subjects might their rights dispute,

Lest God himself should seem too absolute;

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Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare,

And vice admired to find a flatt'rer there! Encouraged thus, Wit's Titans braved the skies,

And the press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies.

These monsters, Critics! with your darts engage,

Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage!

Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously

nice,

Will needs mistake an author into vice : All seems infected that th' infected spy, As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.

PART III

Rules for the conduct and manners in a Critic. Candour. Modesty. Good breeding. Sincerity and freedom of advice. When one's counsel is to be restrained. Character of an

incorrigible poet. And of an impertinent critic. Character of a good critic. The history of criticism, and characters of the best critics; Aristotle. Horace. Dionysius. Petronius. Quintilian. Longinus. Of the decay of Criticism, and its revival. Erasmus. Vida. Boileau. Lord Roscommon, &c. Conclusion.

Learn then what morals Critics ought to show,

For 't is but half a judge's task to know. "T is not enough Taste, Judgment, Learning join;

In all you speak let Truth and Candour shine;

That not alone what to your Sense is due All may allow, but seek your friendship

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Such shameless bards we have; and yet 't is true

There are as mad abandon'd critics too. The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails,

From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales.

With him most authors steal their works, or buy ;

Garth did not write his own Dispensary. 60 Name a new play, and he's the poet's friend; Nay, show'd his faults but when would poets mend?

No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd, Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's

churchyard:

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Bursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring Fancy and art in gay Petronius please,
The Scholar's learning with the courtier's

tide.

But where's the man who counsel can bestow,

Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to know?

Unbiass'd or by favour or by spite;
Not dully prepossess'd nor blindly right;
Tho' learn'd, well bred, and tho' well bred

sincere;

Modestly bold, and humanly severe;
Who to a friend his faults can freely show,
And gladly praise the merit of a foe;
Bless'd with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd,
A knowledge both of books and human-
kind;

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Gen'rous converse; a soul exempt from pride;

And love to praise, with reason on his side?

Such once were critics; such the happy few

Athens and Rome in better ages knew.

The mighty Stagyrite first left the shore, Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore;

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He steer'd securely, and discover'd far,
Led by the light of the Mæonian star.
Poets, a race long unconfin'd and free,
Still fond and proud of savage liberty,
Receiv'd his laws, and stood convinc'd
't was fit

Who conquer'd Nature should preside o'er
Wit.

Horace still charms with graceful negligence,

And without method talks us into sense;
Will, like a friend, familiarly convey
The truest notions in the easiest way.
He who, supreme in judgment as in wit,
Might boldly censure as he boldly writ,
Yet judg'd with coolness, though he sung
with fire;

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His precepts teach but what his works inspire.

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