ABSTRACT
Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, But fool with fool is barb'rous civil war. 170 Embrace, embrace my Sons! be foes no more! Nor glad vile Poets with true Criticks' gore.
'Behold yon pair, in strict embraces join'd; How like their manners, and how like their mind! Fam'd for good-nature, B * * and for truth; 17S
Of the other works of these Gentlemen, the world has heard no more, than it wou'd of Mr. Pope's, had their united laudable endeavours discourag'd him from his undertakings. How few good works had ever appear'd (since men of true merit are always the least presuming) had there been always such champions to stifle them in their conception! And were it not better for the publick, that a million of monsters came into the world, than that the Serpents should have strangled one Hercules in
D * * for pious passion to the youth. Equal in wit, and equally polite, Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler write; Like are their merits, like rewards they share, That shines a Consul, this Commissioner. 180
'But who is he, in closet close y-pent, Of sober face, with learned dust besprent? Right well mine eyes arede the myster wight,
On parchment scraps y-fed, and Wormius hight. To future ages may thy dulness last, 185 As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past!
