There are who object to his Versification: But a Diamond is not less a Diamond for not being polish'd. Versification is in Poetry, what Colouring is in Painting, a beautiful Ornament; But if the Proportions are just, the Posture true, the Figure bold, and the Resemblance according to Nature, tho' the Colours should happen to be rough, or carelesly laid on, yet may the Piece be of inestimable Value: Whereas the finest and the nicest Colouring Art can invent, is but Labour in vain, where the rest is wanting. Our present Writers indeed, for the most part, seem to lay the whole Stress of their Endeavours up on the Harmony of Words; but then, like Eunuchs, they sacrifice their Manhood for a Voice, and reduce our Poetry to be like Echo, Nothing but Sound.
In Mr. Wycherly every thing is Masculine: His Muse is not led forth as to a Review, but as to a Battel; not adorn'd for Parade, but Execution: He would be try'd by the Sharpness of his Blade, and not by the Finery: Like your Heroes of Antiquity, he charges in Iron, and seems to despise all Ornament, but intrinsick Merit: And like those Heroes has therefore added another Name to his own, and by the unanimous Consent of his Contemporaries, is distinguish'd by the just Appellation of Manly Wycherly.
