}
{ He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,
{ But fagotted his notions as they fell,
{ And, if they rhimed and rattled, all was well.
Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,
For still there goes some thinking to ill-nature;
He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,
All his occasions are to eat and drink.
If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,
He means you no more mischief than a parrot;