Whoever thinks a faultless Piece to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
In ev'ry Work regard the
Since none can compass more than they ;
And if the  be just, the  true,
Applause, in spite of trivial Faults, is due.
As Men of Breeding, oft the Men of Wit
T' avoid  must the  commit,
Neglect the Rules each  lays,
For  to know some Trifles, is a Praise.
Most Criticks fond of some subservient Art,
Still make the  depend upon a
They talk of  but Parts they prize,
And All to  Sacrifice.