_The Art of Poetry_. J. DRYDEN.
But those that write in rhyme still make
The one verse for the other's sake;
For one for sense, and one for rhyme,
I think 's sufficient at one time.
_Hudibras, Pt. II_. DR. S. BUTLER.
For rhyme the rudder is of verses.
With which, like ships, they steer their courses.
_Hudibras, Pt. I_. DR. S. BUTLER.
And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad,
It is not poetry, but prose run mad.
_Prologue to Satires_. A. POPE.
I had rather be a kitten, and cry, mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers;
I had rather hear a brazen can stick turned,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry:
'T is like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.
_King Henry IV., Pt. I. Act_ iii. _Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Poets, like painters, thus unskilled to trace
The naked nature and the living grace,
With gold and jewels cover every part,
And hide with ornaments their want of art.
True wit is nature to advantage dressed,
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.
_Essay on Criticism, Pt. II_. A. POPE.
Unjustly poets we asperse;
Truth shines the brighter clad in verse,
And all the fictions they pursue
Do but insinuate what is true.
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