Most critics, fond of subservient artstill make the whole depend upon a part.They talk of principles, but notions prizeAnd all to one loved folly sacrifice.

Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.

And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd shade, Admire new light thro' holes yourselves have made.

I lose my patience, and I own it too, When works are censur'd, not as bad but new; While if our Elders break all reason's laws, These fools demand not pardon but Applause.