This is the
_Flame_ which should warm the rising Members of every Science, not a
poor Submission to those who have preceded. For, however it may be
with a _Religious_ DEVOTION, a _Literary_ One is certainly the CHILD
of _Ignorance_.
However, I must acknowledge, that where I have differed from the great
Authors before mentioned, it has been with a Diffidence, and after the
most serious and particular Examination of what they have delivered.
It is from hence, that I have thought it my Duty, to exhibit with the
following _Essay_, their several Performances upon the same Subject,
that every Variation of mine from their Suffrage, and the Reasons upon
which I have grounded it, may clearly appear.
The following _Ode_ upon WIT is written by Mr. _Cowley_.
ODE of WIT.
I.
Tell me, oh tell!, what kind of Thing is _WIT_,
Thou who _Master_ art of it;
For the _first Matter_ loves Variety _less_;
Less _Women_ love't, either in _Love_ or _Dress_.
A thousand diff'rent Shapes it bears,
Comely in thousand Shapes appears;
Yonder we saw it plain, and here 'tis now,
Like _Spirits_ in a Place, we know not _how_.
II.
_London_, that vents of _false Ware_ so much Store,
In no _Ware_ deceives us more;
For Men, led by the _Colour_, and the Shape,
Like _Zeuxis' Bird_, fly to the painted Grape.
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