Abhor the tricks so grossly play'd,
Lament the science sunk to trade,
And dealers from my soul despise.
"Pursue, unrivall'd yet, that art,
Which bounteous nature did impart
(Ne'er to be so profuse again):
Our sons, in time to come, shall strive
Where the chief honour they shall give,
Or to your pencil or your pen."
Hogarth had previously presented this gentleman with a volume of his prints, in return for which he received the following very flattering testimony to his talents:—