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The meanest Workman in the Æmilian Square,
May grave the Nails, or imitate the Hair,
But cannot finish what he hath begun;
What is there more ridiculous than he?
For one or two good features in a Face
Where all the rest are scandalously ill,
Make it but more remarkably deform'd.
Let Poets march their Subject to their strength,
And often try what weight they can support,
And what their Shoulders are too weak to bear,
After a serious and judicious choice,
Method and Eloquence will never fail;
As well the Force as Ornament of Verse,
Consists in choosing a fit time for things,
And knowing when a Muse should be indulg'd
In her full flight, and when she should be curb'd:
Words must be chosen, and be plac'd with skill,
May grave the Nails, or imitate the Hair,
But cannot finish what he hath begun;
What is there more ridiculous than he?
For one or two good features in a Face
Where all the rest are scandalously ill,
Make it but more remarkably deform'd.
Let Poets march their Subject to their strength,
And often try what weight they can support,
And what their Shoulders are too weak to bear,
After a serious and judicious choice,
Method and Eloquence will never fail;
As well the Force as Ornament of Verse,
Consists in choosing a fit time for things,
And knowing when a Muse should be indulg'd
In her full flight, and when she should be curb'd:
Words must be chosen, and be plac'd with skill,
You
