Singing at church, and sawing thus your hand?
Looking at heaven above, as if to bring
The holy angels down to hear you sing? 160
And, when you write, you try with all your skill,
And cry, no wonder that you wrote so ill!
For you were ever to yourself a rule,
And humbly add, you never were at school—
Is that not proud?—And I have heard beside,
The proudest creatures have the humblest pride.
If you had read the volumes I have hired,