Come on, ye critics! Find one fault who dare, <br />For, read it backward like a witch's prayer, <br />'Twill do as well; throw not away your jests <br />On solid nonsense that abides all tests. <br />Wit, like tierce claret, when 't begins to pall, <br />Neglected lies and's of no use at all; <br />But in its full perfection of decay, <br />Turns vinegar and comes again in play. <br />This simile shall stand in thy defence <br />'Gainst such dull rogues as now and then write sense. <br />He lies, dear Ned, who says thy brain is barren, <br />Where deep conceits, like vermin, breed in carrion; <br />Thou hast a brain, such as thou hast, indeed -- <br />On what else should thy worm of fancy feed? <br />Yet in a filbert I have often known <br />Maggots survive when all the kernel's gone. <br />Thy style's the same whatever be the theme, <br />As some digestions turn all meat to phlegm: <br />Thy stumbling, founder'd jade can trot as high <br />As any other Pegasus can fly. <br />As skillful divers to the bottom fall <br />Sooner than those that cannot swim at all, <br />So in this way of writing without thinking <br />Thou hast a strange alacrity in sinking: <br />Thou writest below e'en thy own natural parts <br />And with acquired dullness and new arts <br />Of studied nonsense tak'st kind readers' heart. <br />So the dull eel moves nimbler in the mud <br />Than all the swift-finn'd racers of the flood. <br />Therefore, dear Ned, at my advice forbear <br /> <br />Such loud complaints 'gainst critics to prefer, <br />Since thou art turn'd an arrant libeller: <br />Thou sett'st thy name to what thyself dost write; <br />Did ever libel yet so sharply bite?<br /><br />Charles Sackville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mr-edward-howard-on-his-incomparable-incompre-2/
