La muse de cavalier, or, An apology for such gentlemen as make poetry their diversion, not their business : in a letter from a scholar of Mars to one of Apollo.

To the Author OF LA MUSE DE CAVALIER.

THou say'st thou'rt Mars's Scholar, and 'tis true, So far, we own, th'ast giv'n thy self thy due; For thou art ev'n as much to learn in Fight (Tho' thou dost praise thy Writing) as to write. Yet thou art angry, that the World thinks fit To brand thy Poems with the want of Wit; And, in thy Vindication, writ so ill, Y'ave giv'n the World fresh Cause to laugh on still. Ev'n Bessus has to Courage more Pretence, Than you, a Brother of the Quill, to Sense:

For thou hast hitten ev'ry thing so pat, No Body knows what 'tis thou wou'd'st be at. Write on then, Friend, carp at the Stage and Court, Some Authors were created for our Sport, And thou art one—who, with such mighty Pains, Hast prov'd thou hast large Ears, but little Brains.