The Nymph Who Wrote This In An Amorous Fit, I Cannot But Envy The Pride Of Her Wit, Which Thus She Will Venture Profusely To Throw On So Mean A Design, And A Subject So Low. For Mean'S Her Design, And Her Subject As Mean, The First But A Rebus, The Last But A Dean. A Dean'S But A Parson: And What Is A Rebus? A Thing Never Known To The Muses Or Phoebus. The Corruption Of Verse; For, When All Is Done, It Is But A Paraphrase Made On A Pun. But A Genius Like Hers No Subject Can Stifle, It Shows And Discovers Itself Through A Trifle. By Reading This Trifle, I Quickly Began To Find Her A Great Wit, But The Dean A Small Man. Rich Ladies Will Furnish Their Garrets With Stuff, Which Others For Mantuas Would Think Fine Enough: So The Wit That Is Lavishly Thrown Away Here, Might Furnish A Second-Rate Poet A Year. Thus Much For The Verse, We Proceed To The Next, Where The Nymph Has Entirely Forsaken Her Text: Her Fine Panegyrics Are Quite Out Of Season: And What She Describes To Be Merit, Is Treason: The Changes Which Faction Has Made In The State, Have Put The Dean'S Politics Quite Out Of Date: Now No One Regards What He Utters With Freedom, And, Should He Write Pamphlets, No Great Man Would Read 'Em; And, Should Want Or Desert Stand In Need Of His Aid, This Racer Would Prove But A Dull Founder'D Jade.