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[page 6]

contended for the palm of serious poesy; but of his Comic Vein I think \even/ you can hardly say too much, & the Earth cannot produce a warmer Encomiast – I like yr illeg second stanza on Him much better than its Predecessor, which I wish you would improve, & to tempt you to try Experiments, I will endeavour to change a little the arrangement of the very stanza I have commended – would it be better thus?

Immortal Truth, for his salubrious song,
Pluck’d the unfading Laurel from her Fane:
amid th’applauding Laugh of Momus’ Throng,
Grave wisdom smiled, & prais’d his comic strain,
which stampt th eternal brand of ridicule
On Vice’s abject Slave, & Fashion’s giddy Fool.

alas I dare not scribble to you any longer, tho I have yet