Thomson.
What is an high-praised philosophy,
But books of poesy in prose compil’d,
Far more delightful than they fruitful be,
Witty appearance, guile that is beguil’d;
Corrupting minds much rather than directing,
Th’ alloy of duty, and our pride’s erecting.
For, as among physicians, what they call
Word magic, never helpeth the disease,
Which drugs and diet ought to deal withal,