Each commentator that e'er commented. 70
(You scarce can seize a spot of classic ground,
With leagues of Dutch morass so floated round.)
Witness--but, Sir, I hold a cautious pen,
Lest I should _wrong_ some _honourable men_.
They grow enthusiasts too--_'Tis true! 'tis pity!_ 75
But 'tis not every lunatic that's witty.
Some have run Maro--and some Milton--mad,
Ashley once turn'd a solid barber's head:
Hear all that's said or printed if you can,
Ashley has turn'd more solid heads than one. 80

Let such admire each great or specious name;
For right or wrong the joy to them's the same.
"Right!" Yes a thousand times.--Each fool has heard
That Homer was a wonder of a bard.
Despise them civilly with all my heart-- 85
But to convince them is a desperate part,
Why should you teize one for what secret cause
One doats on Horace, or on Hudibras?
'Tis cruel, Sir, 'tis needless, to endeavour
To teach a sot of Taste he knows no flavour, 90
To disunite I neither wish nor hope
A stubborn blockhead from his fav'rite fop.
Yes--fop I say, were Maro's self before 'em:
For Maro's self grows dull as they pore o'er him.

But hear their raptures o'er some specious rhime
Dub'd by the musk'd and greasy mob sublime. 96
For spleen's dear sake hear how a coxcomb prates