Amongst men, those who are prosperously unjust are entitled to a
panegyric, but afflicted virtue is insolently stabbed with all
manner of reproaches; no decency is considered, no fulsomeness
omitted; no venom is wanting, as far as dulness can supply it, for
there is a perpetual dearth of wit, a barrenness of good sense and
entertainment. The neglect of the readers will soon put an end to
this sort of scribbling. There can be no pleasantry where there is
no wit, no impression can be made where there is no truth for the
foundation. To conclude: they are like the fruits of the earth in
this unnatural season; the corn which held up its head is spoiled
with rankness, but the greater part of the harvest is laid along,
and little of good income and wholesome nourishment is received into
the barns. This is almost a digression, I confess to your lordship;
but a just indignation forced it from me. Now I have removed this
rubbish I will return to the comparison of Juvenal and Horace.
I would willingly divide the palm betwixt them upon the two heads of
profit and delight, which are the two ends of poetry in general.
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