When the rest had concurred in the same opinion, CRITES [i.e., Sir ROBERT HOWARD] (a person of a sharp judgment, and somewhat a too delicate a taste in wit, which the World have mistaken in him for ill nature) said, smiling, to us, "That if the concernment of this battle had not been so exceeding[ly] great, he could scarce have wished the victory at the price, he knew, must pay for it; in being subject to the reading and hearing of so many ill verses, he was sure would be made upon it." Adding, "That no argument could 'scape some of those eternal rhymers, who watch a battle with more diligence than the ravens and birds of prey; and the worst of them surest to be first in upon the quarry: while the better able, either, out of modesty, writ not at all; or set that due value upon their poems, as to let them be often called for, and long expected."
"There are some of those impertinent people you speak of," answered LISIDEIUS [i.e., Sir CHARLES SEDLEY], "who, to my knowledge, are already so provided, either way, that they can produce not only a Panegyric upon the Victory: but, if need be, a Funeral Elegy upon the Duke, and, after they have crowned his valour with many laurels, at last, deplore the odds under which he fell; concluding that his courage deserved a better destiny." All the company smiled at the conceit of LISIDEIUS.
But CRITES, more eager than before, began to make particular exceptions against some writers, and said, "The Public Magistrate ought to send, betimes, to forbid them: and that it concerned the peace and quiet of all honest people, that ill poets should be as well silenced as seditious preachers."
"In my opinion" replied EUGENIUS, "you pursue your point too far! For, as to my own particular, I am so great a lover of Poesy, that I could wish them all rewarded, who attempt but to do well. At least, I would not have them worse used than SYLLA the Dictator did one of their brethren heretofore. Quem in concione vidimus (says TULLY, speaking of him) cum ei libellum malus poeta de populo subjecisset, quod epigramma in eum fecisset tantummodo alternis versibus longiuculis, statim ex iis rebus quae tunc vendebat jubere ei praemium tribui, sub ea conditione ne quid postea scriberet."
"I could wish, with all my heart," replied CRITES, "that many whom we know, were as bountifully thanked, upon the same condition, that they would never trouble us again. For amongst others, I have a mortal apprehension of two poets, whom this Victory, with the help of both her wings, will never be able to escape."
"'Tis easy to guess, whom you intend," said LISIDEIUS, "and without naming them, I ask you if one [i.e., GEORGE WITHER] of them does not perpetually pay us with clenches upon words, and a certain clownish kind of raillery? If, now and then, he does not offer at a catachresis [which COTGRAVE defines as 'the abuse, or necessary use of one word, for lack of another more proper'] or Clevelandism, wresting and torturing a word into another meaning? In fine, if be not one of those whom the French would call un mauvais buffon; one that is so much a well willer to the Satire, that he spares no man: and though he cannot strike a blow to hurt any, yet ought to be punished for the malice of the action; as our witches are justly hanged, because they think themselves so, and suffer deservedly for believing they did mischief, because they meant it."
"You have described him," said CRITES, "so exactly, that I am afraid to come after you, with my other Extremity of Poetry. He [i.e., FRANCIS QUARLES] is one of those, who, having had some advantage of education and converse [i.e., conversation, in the sense of Culture through mixture with society], knows better than the other, what a Poet should be; but puts it into practice more unluckily than any man. His style and matter are everywhere alike. He is the most calm, peaceable writer you ever read. He never disquiets your passions with the least concernment; but still leaves you in as even a temper as he found you. He is a very Leveller in poetry; he creeps along, with ten little words in every line, and helps out his numbers with For to, and Unto, and all the pretty expletives he can find, till he drags them to the end of another line: while the Sense is left, tired, halfway behind it. He doubly starves all his verses; first, for want of Thought, and then, of Expression, His poetry neither has wit in it, nor seems to have it; like him, in MARTIAL,
"Pauper videri CINNA vult, et est pauper.
"He affects plainness, to cover his Want of Imagination. When he writes in the serious way; the highest flight of his Fancy is some miserable antithesis or seeming contradiction: and in the comic; he is still reaching at some thin conceit, the ghost of a jest, and that too flies before him, never to be caught. These swallows, which we see before us on the Thames, are the just resemblance of his Wit. You may observe how near the water they stoop! how many proffers they make to dip, and yet how seldom they touch it! and when they do, 'tis but the surface! they skim over it, but to catch a gnat, and then mount in the air and leave it!"
"Well, gentlemen!" said EUGENICS, "you may speak your pleasure of these authors; but though. I and some few more about the Town, may give you a peaceable hearing: yet, assure yourselves! there are multitudes who would think you malicious, and them injured; especially him whom you first described, he is the very Withers of the City. They have bought more Editions of his works, than would serve to lay under all their pies at the Lord Mayor's Christmas. When his famous poem [i.e., Speculum Speculativium; Or, A Considering Glass, Being an Inspection into the present and late sad condition of these Nations…. London. Written June xiii. XDCLX, and there imprinted the same year] first came out in the year 1660, I have seen them read it in the midst of Change time. Nay, so vehement were they at it, that they lost their bargain by the candles' ends! But what will you say, if he has been received among the Great Ones? I can assure you, he is, this day, the envy of a Great Person, who is Lord in the Art of Quibbling; and who does not take it well, than any man should intrude so far into his province."