I <br /> <br />But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone <br />And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne. <br /> <br /> <br /> II <br /> <br />Wit is like faith by such warm Fools profest <br />Who to be saved by one, must damn the rest. <br /> <br /> <br /> III <br /> <br />Some who grow dull religious strait commence <br />And gain in morals what they lose in sence. <br /> <br /> <br /> IV <br /> <br />Wits starve as useless to a Common weal <br />While Fools have places purely for their Zea. <br /> <br /> V <br /> <br />Now wits gain praise by copying other wits <br />As one Hog lives on what another sh---. <br /> <br /> <br /> VI <br /> <br />Wou'd you your writings to some Palates fit <br />Purged all you verses from the sin of wit <br />For authors now are so conceited grown <br />They praise no works but what are like their own.<br /><br />Alexander Pope<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/couplets-on-wit/
