Classic Poem

Some few from Wit have this true Maxime got,
That 'tis still better to be pleas'd then not,
And therefore never their own Torment plot.
While the Malitious Criticks still agree
To loath each Play they come and pay to see;
The first know 'tis a Meaner part of sence
To finde a fault, then taste an Excellence;
Therefore they praise and strive to like, while these
Are dully vain of being hard to please.
Poets and Women have an Equal Right
To hate the Dull, who Dead to all Delight
Feel pain alone, and have no Joy but spite.
'Twas Impotence did first this Vice begin,
Fooles censure Wit, as Old men raile of Sin,
Who Envy Pleasure, which they cannot tast,
And good for nothing, wou'd be wise at last.
Since therefore to the Women it appears,
That all these Enemies of Wit are theirs,
Our Poet the Dull herd no longer fears.
What e're his fate may prove, 'twill be his pride
To stand or fall, with Beauty on his side.