As mercenary canting quacks
Who deal in penny almanacs,
Gazing through telescopic glasses,
Pretend to read whatever passes
Above our sphere, pray God defend us,
As well as Newton or Gassendus,
Although they know no more the while
Than John O'Noke or John O'Style.
So beaus and fops of small discerning,
With powdered wigs and little learning,
At coffee houses hold their lectures,
Making a thousand strange conjectures.
Poor Lemuel's laid upon the table,
And everyone, as he is able,
In blust'ring words and smart orations,
Begins to vent his observations;
While I and other poetasters,
Gaping to find out new disasters,
According to our form diurnal,
Like Don Arbuckle in his journal,
Stand by in heedless manner, list'ning,
As mild as strumpet at a christ'ning;
Prepared tomorrow to rehearse
Their wretched prose in wretched verse,
And make up whatsoever's wanting
By similes and formal canting;
For stories still, like folks in selling,
Do lose or gain something in telling.
But lest I should, by long digression,
Be guilty of an indiscretion,
And prove to critics troublesome,
Let me unto the purpose come;
That is, that I should give a sample
Of their opinions for example:
Some said, " It must be so and so, "
And others stiffly answered, " No! "
Quoth one, " These lines in such a print
At such and such a person hint;
My intimate acquaintance said it,
And I may take it on his credit;
For he assured me that he saw
The man that knew — , " et cetera.
Another vowed to Gad 'tis antic,
Abominable and romantic,
An incoherent piece of myst'ry;
He never read the like in hist'ry.
Another vapored, " Without pumping,
I know his meaning by his mumping. "
" Yes, " quoth another, " you have hit it;
Much good may do the man that writ it;
But, as for me, I'd be unwilling
To be the author for a shilling;
It's founded on a crooked model. "
He said, and shook his empty noddle.
Another adds, " Think what you will on't,
But I think neither good nor ill on't.
I would not give this dish of coffee
For all his wit and philo-sophy. "
To this, but little purpose, each
As far as lungs and stuff could reach,
Without remorse (a hopeful gang!)
Vented his critical harangue.
Have you not seen in rainy weather
A flock of geese on flight together,
With whistling pinions clap and flutter,
Gaggle and make a hideous splutter?
Such, but much louder, as I take it,
Was this intolerable racket,
When these immortal politicians
Summoned their weighty suppositions;
And all the burden of their chat
Ended in either THIS or THAT.
Thus fops, to show their skill in letters,
Are ever railing at their betters,
Till their impertinence and noise
Become the jest of girls and boys;
For though you spend much time in wrapping
The sluggard-ass in gaudy trapping,
Yet in the end, and take my saying,
'Twill be discovered by its braying.
Per pauca Desunt, ++++
++++++++++++++++++
Yet after all we must agree
Some are so blind they will not see.
Who deal in penny almanacs,
Gazing through telescopic glasses,
Pretend to read whatever passes
Above our sphere, pray God defend us,
As well as Newton or Gassendus,
Although they know no more the while
Than John O'Noke or John O'Style.
So beaus and fops of small discerning,
With powdered wigs and little learning,
At coffee houses hold their lectures,
Making a thousand strange conjectures.
Poor Lemuel's laid upon the table,
And everyone, as he is able,
In blust'ring words and smart orations,
Begins to vent his observations;
While I and other poetasters,
Gaping to find out new disasters,
According to our form diurnal,
Like Don Arbuckle in his journal,
Stand by in heedless manner, list'ning,
As mild as strumpet at a christ'ning;
Prepared tomorrow to rehearse
Their wretched prose in wretched verse,
And make up whatsoever's wanting
By similes and formal canting;
For stories still, like folks in selling,
Do lose or gain something in telling.
But lest I should, by long digression,
Be guilty of an indiscretion,
And prove to critics troublesome,
Let me unto the purpose come;
That is, that I should give a sample
Of their opinions for example:
Some said, " It must be so and so, "
And others stiffly answered, " No! "
Quoth one, " These lines in such a print
At such and such a person hint;
My intimate acquaintance said it,
And I may take it on his credit;
For he assured me that he saw
The man that knew — , " et cetera.
Another vowed to Gad 'tis antic,
Abominable and romantic,
An incoherent piece of myst'ry;
He never read the like in hist'ry.
Another vapored, " Without pumping,
I know his meaning by his mumping. "
" Yes, " quoth another, " you have hit it;
Much good may do the man that writ it;
But, as for me, I'd be unwilling
To be the author for a shilling;
It's founded on a crooked model. "
He said, and shook his empty noddle.
Another adds, " Think what you will on't,
But I think neither good nor ill on't.
I would not give this dish of coffee
For all his wit and philo-sophy. "
To this, but little purpose, each
As far as lungs and stuff could reach,
Without remorse (a hopeful gang!)
Vented his critical harangue.
Have you not seen in rainy weather
A flock of geese on flight together,
With whistling pinions clap and flutter,
Gaggle and make a hideous splutter?
Such, but much louder, as I take it,
Was this intolerable racket,
When these immortal politicians
Summoned their weighty suppositions;
And all the burden of their chat
Ended in either THIS or THAT.
Thus fops, to show their skill in letters,
Are ever railing at their betters,
Till their impertinence and noise
Become the jest of girls and boys;
For though you spend much time in wrapping
The sluggard-ass in gaudy trapping,
Yet in the end, and take my saying,
'Twill be discovered by its braying.
Per pauca Desunt, ++++
++++++++++++++++++
Yet after all we must agree
Some are so blind they will not see.