But why should I then bridle in my rage?
Why tremble thus to lash a guilty age?
Here let me dig-even here the truth unfold
(As once the gossip barber did of old),
Here to my little book I will declare,
Of ass's ears I've seen a royal pair.
Nor would I now have miss'd this single hit
For all the Iliads by the Accii writ.
If such there be who feel the force and fire,
Of bold Cratinus' free and manly lyre;
Who, while they see triumphant vice prevail,
O'er the stern page of Eupolis grow pale;
Or nightly loiter with that comic sage,
Who lash'd, amused, did all but mend his age;
Let them look here; and if by chance they find
Men well described, or manners well design'd,
Let them acknowledge that my breast has known
Fires not less pure, less generous than their own.
But let that sordid wretch approach not here,
Whose utmost wit is some offensive jeer;
Whose narrow mind nor sense, nor honour knows;
Who mocks the tear which from affliction flows;
Who never kindred sigh of sorrow heaves,
But dares to laugh when suffering nature grieves :
Hence let such readers fly, though on them wait,
An Ædile's honours, or Proconsul's state :
And hence, far hence, be all that vulgar crew,
Whose theme still is the stable or the stew;
Who mock all science, all her laws despise,
Insult the good, and ridicule the wise;