[Greek: Tên men Spoudhhên dichph teirein ghelôi, thyn de gelôa spoudhê.]

Humour is the only Test of Gravity; and Gravity of Humour. For a
Subject which will not bear Raillery, is suspicious; and a Jest which
will not bear a serious Examination, is certainly false Wit.

These Sports of the Imagination, these Finesses, these Conceits, these
glittering Strokes, these Gaieties, these little cut Sentences, these
ingenious Prodigalities, which are lavished away in our Times, agree
with none but little Works. The Front of St _Paul_'s Church is simple
and majestick. A Cabinet may with Propriety enough contain little
Ornaments. Have as much Wit as you will, or you can, in a Madrigal, in
little light Verses, in the Scene of a Comedy, which is neither
passionate or simple, in a Compliment, in a little Story, in a Letter
where you would be merry yourself to make your Friends so.

_Spencer_ was very well acquainted with this Art. In his Fairy Queen,
you find hardly any thing but what is sublime and full of Imagery: but
in his detached Pieces, such as the Hymn in Honour of Beauty, The Fate
of the Butterfly, _Britain_'s Ida, &c. he gave a Loose to his Wit and
Delicacy. The following Verses are Part of the Description of _Venus_
asleep, in the last mention'd Poem:

_Her full large Eyes, in jetty-black array'd,
Proud Beauty not confin'd to red and white,
But oft herself in black more rich display'd;
Both Contraries did yet themselves unite,
To make one Beauty in different Delight:_
_A thousand Loves, sate playing in each Eye,