And though ten thousand other Names are there,
You'll fancy you're a Genius, just the Same!
XLIV
Why, if an Author can fling Art aside,
And in a Book of Balderdash take Pride,
Wer't not a Shame—wer't not a Shame for him
A Conscientious Novel to have tried?
XLV
Writing's a Trade where Newspapers pay best;
LeGallienne this Verity confess'd;