He first did place that wreath about thy head, }
Kindly relieved thy wants, and gave thee bread. }
Here 'twas thou mad'st thy bells of fancy chime,
And choked the town with suffocating rhyme;
Till heroes, formed by thy creating pen,
Were grown as cheap and dull as other men.
Flushed with success, full gallery and pit,
Thou bravest all mankind with want of wit;
Nay, in short time wer't grown so proud a ninny,
As scarce to allow that Ben himself had any;