Such scribb’ling Authors have been seen before,
Mustapha, the Island Princess, Forty more,
Were things, perhaps, compos’d in Half an Hour.

I’ve no Ambition on that idle Score,
But say with Betty Morris heretofore,
When a Court Lady call’d her Buckhurst’s Whore:

Should I be troubled when the purblind Knight,
Who squints more in his Judgment, than his Sight,
Picks silly Faults, and censures what I write?