Chapter II: Part 2

"Of all the modern Dramatick Poets the Author of _the Trip to the Jubilee_ has the least Reason to turn into Ridicule _Aristotle_ and _Horace_, since 'tis to their _Rules_ which he has, in some measure followed, that he owed the great success of that Play. Those _Rules_ are no thing but a strict imitation of Nature, which is still the same in all Ages and Nations: And because the Characters of _Wildair_, _Angelica_, _Standard_ and _Smuggler_ are _natural_, and well pursued, They have justly met _with Applause_; but then the Characters of _Lurewell_ and _Clincher_ Sen. being _out_ of _Nature_ they have as justly been condemned by all the Good Judges."

* Some _Scholars_, tho' by their constant Conversation with Antiquity, they may know perfectly the sense of the Learned dead, and be perfect masters of the Wisdom, be throughly informed of the State, and nicely skill'd in the Policies of Ages long since past, yet by their retired and unactive Life, and their neglect of Business, they are such strangers to the Domestick Affairs and manners of their own Country and Times, that they appear like the Ghosts of old _Romans_ rais'd by Magick. Talk to them of the _Assyrian_ or _Persian_ Monarchies of the _Grecian_ or _Roman_ Commonwealths, they answer like Oracles; They are such finished States-men that we should scarce take 'em to have been less than Privy-Councellors to _Semiramis_, Tutors to _Cyrus_ the Great, and old Cronies of _Solon_, _Licurgus_, and _Numa Pompilius_. But ingage them in a discourse that concerns the present Times, and their Native Country, and they hardly speak the language of it; Ask them how many Kings there have been in _England_ since the Conquest, or in what Reign the _Reformation_ happened, and they'll be puzzled with the Question; They know all the minutest Circumstances of _Catiline's_ Conspiracy, but are hardly acquainted with the late Plot. They'll tell you the Names of such _Romans_ as were called to an Account by the Senate for their _Briberies_, _Extortions_ and _Depredations_, but know nothing of the four impeached Lords; They talk of the ancient way of Fighting, and warlike Engines, as if they had been Lieutenant Generals under _Alexander_, _Scipio_, _Annibal_ or _Julius Cæsar_; but are perfectly ignorant of the modern military Discipline, Fortification and Artillery; and of the very names of _Nassau_, _Condé_, _Turenne_, _Luxembourg_, _Eugene_, _Villeroy_ and _Catinat_. They are excellent Guides, and can direct you to every Alley, and Turning in old _Rome_ yet lose their way home in their own Parish. They are mighty Admirers of the Wit and Eloquence of the Ancients; Yet had they lived in the Time of _Demosthenes_, and _Cicero_, would have treated them with as much supercilious Pride, and disrespect as they do now the Moderns. They are great Hunters of Ancient Manuscripts, and have in great Veneration any thing that has escaped the Teeth of Time; and if Age has obliterated the Characters, 'tis the more valuable for not being legible. These Superstitious bigotted idolaters of time past, are children in their Understanding all their lives, for they hang so incessantly upon the leading-strings of Authority, that their Judgments like the Limbs of some _Indian_ Penitents, become altogether crampt and motionless for want of use. In fine, they think it a disparagement of their Learning to talk what other Men understand, and will scarce believe that two and two make four, under a Demonstration from _Euclid_, or a _Quotation from Aristotle_.

The World shall allow a Man to be a wise Man, a good Naturalist, a good Mathematician, Politician or Poet, but not a _Scholar_, or Learned Man, unless he be a Philologer and understands Greek and Latin. But for my part I take these Gentlemen have just inverted the life of the Term, and given that to the Knowledge of Words, which belongs more properly to Things. I take Nature to be the Book of Universal Learning, which he that reads best in all or any of its Parts, is the greatest Scholar, the most Learned Man; and 'tis as ridiculous for a Man to count himself more learned than another, if he have no greater Extent of Knowledge of things, because he is more vers'd in Languages, as it would be for an old fellow to tell a young One, his own Eyes were better than the other's because he reads with spectacles, the other without.

* _Impertinence_ is a Failing that has its Root in Nature, but is not worth laughing at, till it has received the finishing strokes of _Art_. A man thro' natural Defects may do abundance of incoherent foolish Actions, yet deserves compassion and Advice rather than derision. But to see Men spending their Fortunes, as well as lives, in a Course of regular Folly, and with an industrious as well as expensive idleness running thro' tedious systems of impertinence, would have split the sides of _Heraclitus_, had it been his Fortune to have been a Spectator. It's very easie to decide which of these impertinents is the most signal: the Virtuoso is manifestly without a Competitor. For our follies are not to be measured by the Degree of Ignorance that appears in 'em, but by the study, labour and expence they cost us to finish and compleat 'em.

So that the more Regularity and Artifice there appears in any of our Extravagancies, the greater is the Folly of 'em. Upon this score it is that the last mentioned deservedly claim the Preference to all others. They have improved so well their Amusements into an Art, that the credulous and ignorant are induced to believe there is some secret Vertue, some hidden Mystery in those darling Toys of theirs: when all their Bustling amounts to no more than a learned impertinence and all they teach men is but a specious method of throwing away both Time and Money.

"The _Illusions_ of _Poetry_ are fatal to none but the _Poets_ themselves: _Sidonius_ having lately miscarried upon the Stage, gathers fresh Courage and is now big with the Hopes of a Play, writ by an ancient celebrated Author, new-vampt and furbisht up after the laudable Custom of our modern Witlings. He reckons how much he shall get by his third day, nay, by his sixth; how much by the Printing, how much by the Dedication, and by a modest Computation concludes the whole sum, will amount to two hundred Pounds, which are to be distributed among his trusty Duns. But mark the fallacy of _Vanity_ and _Self-conceit_: The Play is acted, and casts the Audience into such a Lethargy, that They are fain to damn it with _Yawning_, being in a manner deprived of the Use of their _hissing_ Faculty. Well says, _Sidonius_, (after having recover'd from a profound Consternation) _Now must the important Person stand upon his own Leggs_. Right, _Sidonius_, but when do you come on again, that _Covent-Garden_ Doctors may prescribe your Play instead of Opium?

"The Town is not one jot more diverted by the Division of the Play-houses: the _Players_ perform better 'tis true? but then the _Poets_ write worse; Will the uniting of _Drury-Lane_ and _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_ mend Matters? No,--for then What the Town should get in writing, they would lose it in Acting."

* A _Dramatick Poet_ has as hard a Task on't to manage, as a _passive obedience Divine_ that preaches before the Commons on the 30th. of _January_.

To please the _Pit_ and _Galleries_ he must take care to lard the Dialogue with store of luscious stuff, which the righteous call Baudy; to please the new Reformers he must have none, otherwise gruff _Jeremy_ will Lash him in a third _View_.

* I very much Question, after all, whether _Collier_ would have been at the Pains to lash the immoralities of the stage, if the Dramatick Poets had not been guilty of the _abominable Sin_ of making familiar now and then with the Backslidings of the Cassock.

* _The Griping Usurer_, whose daily labour and nightly Care and Study is to oppress the Poor, or over-reach his Neighbour, to betray the Trusts his Hypocrisy procured; in short to break all the Positive Laws of Morality, crys out, Oh! Diabolical, at a poor harmless _Double Entendre_ in a Play.

"'Tis preposterous to pretend to reform the _Stage_ before the Nation, and particularly the Town, is _reform'd_. The Business of a Dramatick Poet is to _copy Nature_, and represent things as they are; Let our Peers give over _whoring_ and _drinking_; the Citizens, _Cheating_; the Clergy, their _Quarrels, Covetousness and Ambition_; the Lawyers, their _ambi-dextrous dealings_; and the Women _intriguing_, and the stage will reform of Course.

"Formerly _Poets_ made _Players_, but now adays 'tis generally the _Player_ that makes the _Poet_. How many Plays would have expired the very first Night of their appearing upon the Stage, but for _Betterton_, _Barry_, _Bracegirdle_, or _Wilks_'s inimitable Performance.

"Who ever goes about to expose the Follies of others upon the Stage, runs great hazard of exposing himself first; and of being made Ridiculous to those very People he endeavours to make so.

"I doubt whether a Man of Sense would ever give himself the trouble of writing for the Stage, if he had before his Eyes the fatigue of Rehearsals, the Pangs and Agonies of the first day his Play is Acted, the Disappointments of the third, and the Scandal of a Damn'd Poet.

"The reason why in _Shakespear_ and _Ben. Johnson_'s Time Plays had so good Success, and that we see now so many of 'em miscarry, is because then the Poets _wrote better_ than the Audience _Judg'd_; whereas now-a-days the _Audience_ judge _better than the Poets write_."

* He that pretends to confine a Damsel of the Theatre to his own Use, who by her Character is a Person of an extended Qualification, acts as unrighteous, at least as unnatural, a Part, as he that would Debauch a Nun. But after all, such a Spark rather consults his _Vanity_, than his _Love_, and would be thought to ingross what all the young Coxcombs of the Town admire and covet.

"Is it not a kind of Prodigy, that in this wicked and censorious Age, the shining _Daphne_ should preserve her Reputation in a Play-House?"

The Character of a Player was Infamous amongst the _Romans_, but with the _Greeks_ Honourable: What is our Opinion? We think of them like the _Romans_, and live with them like the _Greeks_.

"Nothing so powerfully excites Love in us Men, as the view of those Limbs of Women's Bodies, which the Establish'd Rules of Modesty bid 'em keep from our Sight. No wonder then if _Aglaura_, _Cæsonia_, _Floria_, and in general all the Women on our Stages, are so fond of acting in Men's Cloaths.

"_Cæsonia_ is Young, I own it: But then _Cæsonia_ has an _African_ Nose, hollow Eyes, and a _French_ Complexion; so that all the time she acted in her Sex's Habit, her Conquests never extended further than one of her Fellow-Players, or a Cast-Poet. Mark the Miracles of Fancy: _Cæsonia_ acts a _Boy_'s Part, and _Tallus_, one of the first _Patricians_, falls desperately in Love with her, and presents her with two Hundred great _Sesterces_ (a Gentlewoman's Portion) for a Night's Lodging.

"One would imagine our Matrons should be mighty Jealous of their Husbands Intriguing with Players: But no, they bear it with a Christian Patience. How is that possible? Why, they Intrigue themselves, either with _Roscius_ the Tragedian, _Flagillus_, the Comedian, or _Bathillus_, the Dancer."

Nothing Surprizes me more, than to see Men Laugh so freely at a Comedy, and yet account it a silly weakness to Weep at a Tragedy. For is it less natural for a Man's Heart to relent upon a Scene of Pity, than to be transported with Joy upon one of Mirth and Humour? Or is it only the alteration of the Features of one's Face that makes us forbear Crying? But this alteration is undoubtedly as great in an immoderate Laughter, as in a most desperate Grief; and good Breeding teaches us to avoid the one as well as the other, before those for whom we have a Respect. Or is it painful to us to appear tender-hearted and express grief upon a Fiction? But without quoting great Wits who account it an equal Weakness, either to weep or laugh out of Measure, can we expect to be tickled by a Tragical Adventure? And besides, is not Truth as naturally represented in that as in a Comical one? Therefore as we do not think it ridiculous to see a whole Audience laugh at a merry jest or humour acted to the life, but on the contrary we commend the skill both of the Poet and the Actor; so the great Violence we use upon our selves to contain our tears, together with the forc'd a-wry smiles with which we strive to conceal our Concern, do forcibly evince that the natural effect of a good _Tragedy_ is to make us all weep by consent, without any more ado than to pull out our Handkerchiefs to wipe off our Tears. And if it were once agreed amongst us not to resist those tender impressions of _Pity_, I dare engage that we would soon be convinc'd that by frequenting the Play-house we run less danger of being put to the expence of Tears, than of being almost frozen to death by many a cold, dull insipid jest.

We must make it our main Business and Study to _think_ and _write well_, and not labour to submit other People's Palates and Opinions to our own; which is the greater difficulty of the two.

One should serve his time to learn how to make a _Book_, just as some men do to learn how to make a watch, for there goes something more than either Wit or Learning to the setting up for an _Author_. A _Lawyer_ of this Town was an able, subtle and experienc'd Man in the way of his Business, and might for ought I know, have come to be _Lord Chief Justice_, but he has lately miscarried in the Good Opinion of the World, only by Printing some Essays which are a Master-piece--in _Nonsense_.

It is a more difficult matter to get a Name by a _Perfect Composure_, than to make an _indifferent_ one valued by that Reputation a Man has already got in the World.

There are some things which admit of no _mediocrity_; such as _Poetry_, _Painting_, _Musick and Oratory_--What Torture can be greater than to hear Doctor F---- declaim a flat Oration with formality and Pomp, or D---- read his Pyndaricks with all the Emphasis of a _Dull Poet_.

We have not as yet seen any excellent Piece, but what is owing to the Labour of one single Man: _Homer_, for the purpose, has writ the _Iliad_; _Virgil_, the _Æneid_; _Livy_ his _Decads_; and the _Roman_ Orator his Orations; but our _modern several Hands_ present us often with nothing but a _Variety of Errors_.

There is in the Arts and Sciences such a _Point of Perfection_, as there is one of _Goodness_ or _maturity_ in Fruits; and he that can find and relish it must be allowed to have a _True Tast_; but on the contrary, he that neither perceives it, nor likes any thing on this side, or beyond it, has but a defective Palate. Hence I conclude that there is a bad _Taste_ and a _good_ one, and that the disputing about _Tastes_ is not altogether unreasonable.

The Lives of _Heroes_ have enricht _History_ and History in requital has embellished and heightened the Lives of _Heroes_, so that it is no easie matter to determine which of the two is more beholden to the other: either _Historians_, to those who have furnished them with so great and noble a matter to work upon; or those great Men, to those Writers that have convey'd their names and Atchievements down to the _Admiration of after-Ages._

There are many of our _Wits_ that feed for a while upon the _Ancients_, and the best of our Modern Authors: and when they have _squeez'd_ out and _extracted_ matter enough to appear in Print and set up for themselves, most ungratefully abuse them, like children grown strong and lusty by the good milk they have sucked, who generally beat their Nurses.

A _Modern_ Author proves both by Reasons and Examples that the _Ancients_ are inferior to us; and fetches his Arguments from his own particular Tast, and his Examples from his own _Writings_. He owns, That the _Ancients_ tho' generally uneven and uncorrect, have yet here and there some fine Touches, and indeed these are so fine, that the quoting of them is the only thing that makes his _Criticisms_ worth a Mans reading 'em.

Some great Men pronounce for the _Ancients_ against the _Moderns_: But their own Composures are so agreeable to the Taste of Antiquity, and bear so great a resemblance with the Patterns they have left us, that they seem to be judges in their own Case and being suspected of Partiality, are therefore _ceptionable_.

It is the Character of a _Pedant_ to be unwilling either to ask a Friend's advice about his Work or to alter what he has been made sensible to be a fault.

We ought to read our Writings to those only, who have Judgment enough to correct what is amiss, and esteem what deserves to be commended.

An _Author_, ought to receive with an equal Modesty both the Praise and Censure of other People upon his own Works.

A great facility in submitting to other People's Censure is sometimes as faulty as a great roughness in rejecting it: for there is no Composure so every way accomplisht, but what would be pared and clipped to nothing if a man would follow the advice of every finical scrupulous Critick, who often would have the best Things left out because forsooth, they are not agreeable to his dull Palate.

The great Pleasure some People take in _criticizing_ upon the _small Faults_ of a Book so vitiates their Taste, that it renders them unfit to be _affected_ with it's _Beauties_.

The same Niceness of Judgment which makes some Men write sence, makes them very often shy and unwilling to appear in Print.

Among the several _Expressions_ We may use for the same Thought, there is but an individual one which is good and proper; any other but that is flat and imperfect, and cannot please an ingenious Man that has a mind to explain what he thinks: And it is no small wonder to me to consider, what Pains, even the best of Writers are sometimes at, to seek out that Expression, which being the most simple and natural, ought consequently to have presented it self without Study.

'Tis to no great purpose that a Man seeks to make himself admir'd by his Composures: Blockheads, indeed, may oftentimes admire him but then they are but Blockheads; and as for _Wits_ they have in themselves the seeds or hints of all the good and fine things that can possibly be thought of or said; and therefore they seldom admire any thing, but only approve of what hits their Palate.

The being a _Critick_ is not so much a Science as a sort of laborious, and painful Employment, which requires more strength of Body, than delicacy of Wit, and more assiduity than natural Parts.

As some merit Praise for writing well, so do others for not writing at all.

That _Author_ who chiefly endeavours to please the Taste of the Age he lives in, rather consults his private interest, than that of his _Writings_. We ought always to have perfection in Prospect as the chief thing we aim at, and that Point once gain'd, we may rest assured that unbyassed _Posterity_ will do us Justice, which is often deny'd us by our _Contemporaries_.

'Tis matter of discretion in an Author to be extreamly reserv'd and modest when he speaks of the Work he is upon, for fear he should raise the World's Expectation too high: For it is most certain, that our Opinion of an extraordinary Promise, goes always further than the Performance, and a Man's Reputation cannot but be much lessen'd by such a Disparity.

The Name of the _Author_ ought to be the last thing we inquire into, when we Judge of the merit of an ingenious Composure, but contrary to this maxim we generally judge of the _Book_ by the _Author_, instead of judging of the _Author_ by the _Book_.

As we see Women that without the knowledge of Men do sometimes bring forth inanimate and formless lumps of Flesh, but to cause a natural and perfect Generation, they are to be husbanded by another kind of seed, even so it is with Wit which if not applied to some certain study that may fix and restrain it, runs into a thousand Extravagancies, and is eternally roving here and there in the inextricable labyrinth of restless Imagination.

If every one who hears or reads a good Sentence or maxim, would immediately consider how it does any way touch his own private concern, he would soon find, that it was not so much a good saying, as a severe lash to the ordinary Bestiality of his judgment: but Men receive the Precepts and admonitions of Truth as generally directed to the common sort and never particularly to themselves, and instead of applying them to their own manners, do only very ignorantly and unprofitably commit them to Memory, without suffering themselves to be at all instructed, or converted by them.

We say of some compositions that they stink of Oil and smell of the Lamp, by reason of a certain rough harshness that the laborious handling imprints upon those, where great force has been employed: but besides this, the solicitude of doing well, and a certain striving and contending of a mind too far strain'd, and over-bent upon its undertaking, breaks and hinders it self, like Water that by force of its own pressing Violence and Abundance cannot find a ready issue through the neck of a Bottle, or a narrow sluice.

Humour, Temper, Education and a thousand other Circumstances create so great a difference betwixt the several Palates of Men, and their Judgments upon ingenious Composures, that nothing can be more chimerical and foolish in an Author than the Ambition of a general Reputation.

As Plants are suffocated and drown'd with too much nourishment, and Lamps with too much Oyl, so is the active part of the understanding with too much study and matter, which being embarass'd and confounded with the Diversity of things is deprived of the force and power to disingage it self; and by the Pressure of this weight, it is bow'd, subjected and rendred of no use.

* Studious and inquisitive Men commonly at forty or fifty at the most, have fixed and settled their judgments in most Points, and as it were made their last understanding, supposing they have thought, or read, or heard what can be said on all sides of things, and after that they grow positive and impatient of Contradiction, thinking it a disparagement to them to alter their Judgment.

All Skillful Masters ought to have a care not to let their Works be seen in _Embryo_, for all beginnings are defective, and the imagination is always prejudiced. The remembring to have seen a thing imperfect takes from one the Liberty of thinking it pretty when it is finished.

Many fetch a tedious Compass of Words, without ever coming to the Knot of the business: they make a thousand turnings and windings, that tire themselves and others, without ever arriving at the Point of importance. That proceeds from the Confusion of their Understanding, which cannot clear it self. They lose Time and Patience in what ought to be let alone, and then they have no more to bestow upon what they have omitted.

It is the Knack of Men of Wit to find out Evasions; With a touch of Gallantry they extricate themselves out of the greatest Labyrinth. A graceful smile will make them avoid the most dangerous Quarrel.

_Mind, Understanding, Wit, Memory, Heart._

The Strength and Weakness of a Man's Mind, are improper Terms, since they are really nothing else but the _Organs_ of our _Bodies_, being well or ill dispos'd.

'Tis a great Errour, the making a difference between the _Wit_ and the _Judgment_: For, in truth, the _Judgment_ is nothing else but the _Brightness of Wit_, which penetrates into the very bottom of Things, observes all that ought to be observ'd there, and descries what seem'd to be imperceptible. From whence we must conclude, That 'tis the _Extention_ and _Energy_ of this _Light_ of _Wit_, that produces all those Effects, usually ascrib'd to _Judgment_.

All Men may be allowed to give a good Character of their _Hearts_ (or _Inclinations_) but no body dares to speak well of his own _Wit_.

_Polite Wit_ consists in nice, curious, and honest _Thoughts_.

The _Gallantry_ of _Wit_ consists in _Flattery_ well couch'd.

It often happens, that some things offer themselves to our _Wit_, which are naturally finer and better, than is possible for a Man to make them by the Additions of _Art_ and _Study_.

_Wit_ is always made a _Cully_ to the _Heart_.

Many People are acquainted with their own _Wit_, that are not acquainted with their own _Heart_.

It is not in the power of _Wit_, to act a long while the _Part_ of the _Heart_.

A Man of _Wit_ would be sometimes miserably at a loss, but for the Company of _Fools_.

A Man of _Wit_ may sometimes be a _Coxcomb_; but a Man of _Judgment_ never can.

The different Ways or Methods for compassing a Design, come not so much from the Quickness and Fertility of an industrious _Wit_, as a dim-sighted _Understanding_, which makes us pitch upon every fresh Matter that presents itself to our groping _Fancy_, and does not furnish us with Judgment sufficient to discern at first sight, which or them is best for our Purpose.

The _Twang_ of a Man's _Native Country_, sticks by him as much in his _Mind_ and _Disposition_, as it does in his _Tone_ of _Speaking_.

_Wit_ serves sometimes to make us play the _Fool_ with greater Confidence.

Shallow _Wits_ are apt to censure everything above their own _Capacity_.

'Tis past the Power of _Imagination_ it self, to invent so many distant _Contrarieties_, as there are naturally in the _Heart_ of every Man.

No body is so well acquainted with himself, as to know his own _Mind_ at all times.

Every body complains of his _Memory_, but no body of his _Judgment_.

There is a kind of general _Revolution_, not more visible in the turn it gives to the Fortunes of the _World_, than it is in the Change of Men's _Understandings_, and the different Relish or _Wit_.

Men often think to conduct and govern themselves, when all the while they are led and manag'd; and while their _Understanding_ aims at one thing, their _Heart_ insensibly draws them into another.

Great _Souls_ are not distinguish'd by having less _Passion_, and more _Virtue_; but by having nobler and greater Designs than the _Vulgar_.

We allow few Men to be either _Witty_ or Reasonable, besides those who are of our own Opinion.

We are as much pleas'd to discover another Man's _Mind_, as we are discontented to have our own found out.

A straight and well-contriv'd _Mind_, finds it easier to yield to a perverse one, than to direct and manage it.

_Coxcombs_ are never so troublesome, as when they pretend to _Wit_.

A little _Wit_ with _Discretion_, tires less at long-run, than much _Wit_ without _Judgment_.

Nothing comes amiss to a great _Soul_; and there is as much _Wisdom_ in bearing other People's _Defects_, as in relishing their good _Qualities_.

It argues a great heighth of _Judgment_ in a Man, to discover what is in another's Breast, and to conceal what is in his own.

If Poverty be the Mother of Wickedness, want of _Wit_ must be the Father.

* A _Mind_ that has no Ballance in it self, turns insolent, or abject, out of measure, with the various Change of Fortune.

* Our _Memories_ are frail and treacherous; and we think many excellent things, which for want of making a deep impression, we can never recover afterwards. In vain we hunt for the stragling _Idea_, and rummage all the Solitudes and Retirements of our Soul, for a lost Thought, which has left no Track or Foot-steps behind it: The swift Off-spring of the Mind is gone; 'tis dead as soon as born; nay, often proves abortive in the moment it was conceiv'd: The only way therefore to retain our Thoughts, is to fasten them in Words, and chain them in Writing.

* A Man is never so great a _Dunce_ by _Nature_, but _Love_, _Malice_, or _Necessity_, will supply him with some _Wit_.

* There is a _Defect_ which is almost unavoidable in great _Inventors_; it is the Custom of such earnest and powerful Minds, to do wonderful Things in the beginning; but shortly after, to be over-born by the Multitude and Weight of their own Thoughts; then to yield and cool by little and little, and at last grow weary, and even to loath that, upon which they were at first the most eager. This is the wonted Constitution of _great Wits_; such tender things are those exalted Actions of the Mind; and so hard it is for those Imaginations, that can run swift and mighty Races, to be able to travel a long and constant Journey. The Effects of this Infirmity have been so remarkable, that we have certianly lost very many Inventions, after they have been in part fashion'd, by the meer _Languishing_ and _Negligence_ of their _Authors_.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Present State of Wit (1711), by John Gay