We must make it our main Business and Study to think and write well, and not labour to submit other People's Palates and Opinions to our own; which is the greater difficulty of the two.

One should serve his time to learn how to make a Book, just as some men do to learn how to make a watch, for there goes something more than either Wit or Learning to the setting up for an Author. A Lawyer of this Town was an able, subtle and experienc'd Man in the way of his Business, and might for ought I know, have come to be Lord Chief Justice, but he has lately miscarried in the Good Opinion of the World, only by Printing some Essays which are a Master-piece—in Nonsense.

It is a more difficult matter to get a Name by a Perfect Composure, than to make an indifferent one valued by that Reputation a Man has already got in the World.

There are some things which admit of no mediocrity; such as Poetry, Painting, Musick and Oratory—What Torture can be greater than to hear Doctor F—— declaim a flat Oration with formality and Pomp, or D—— read his Pyndaricks with all the Emphasis of a Dull Poet.

We have not as yet seen any excellent Piece, but what is owing to the Labour of one single Man: Homer, for the purpose, has writ the Iliad; Virgil, the Æneid; Livy his Decads; and the Roman Orator his Orations; but our modern several Hands present us often with nothing but a Variety of Errors.

There is in the Arts and Sciences such a Point of Perfection, as there is one of Goodness or maturity in Fruits; and he that can find and relish it must be allowed to have a True Tast; but on the contrary, he that neither perceives it, nor likes any thing on this side, or beyond it, has but a defective Palate. Hence I conclude that there is a bad Taste and a good one, and that the disputing about Tastes is not altogether unreasonable.

The Lives of Heroes have enricht History and History in requital has embellished and heightened the Lives of Heroes, so that it is no easie matter to determine which of the two is more beholden to the other: either Historians, to those who have furnished them with so great and noble a matter to work upon; or those great Men, to those Writers that have convey'd their names and Atchievements down to the Admiration of after-Ages.

There are many of our Wits that feed for a while upon the Ancients, and the best of our Modern Authors: and when they have squeez'd out and extracted matter enough to appear in Print and set up for themselves, most ungratefully abuse them, like children grown strong and lusty by the good milk they have sucked, who generally beat their Nurses.

A Modern Author proves both by Reasons and Examples that the Ancients are inferior to us; and fetches his Arguments from his own particular Tast, and his Examples from his own Writings. He owns, That the Ancients tho' generally uneven and uncorrect, have yet here and there some fine Touches, and indeed these are so fine, that the quoting of them is the only thing that makes his Criticisms worth a Mans reading 'em.

Some great Men pronounce for the Ancients against the Moderns: But their own Composures are so agreeable to the Taste of Antiquity, and bear so great a resemblance with the Patterns they have left us, that they seem to be judges in their own Case and being suspected of Partiality, are therefore ceptionable.

It is the Character of a Pedant to be unwilling either to ask a Friend's advice about his Work or to alter what he has been made sensible to be a fault.

We ought to read our Writings to those only, who have Judgment enough to correct what is amiss, and esteem what deserves to be commended.

An Author, ought to receive with an equal Modesty both the Praise and
Censure of other People upon his own Works.

A great facility in submitting to other People's Censure is sometimes as faulty as a great roughness in rejecting it: for there is no Composure so every way accomplisht, but what would be pared and clipped to nothing if a man would follow the advice of every finical scrupulous Critick, who often would have the best Things left out because forsooth, they are not agreeable to his dull Palate.

The great Pleasure some People take in criticizing upon the small Faults of a Book so vitiates their Taste, that it renders them unfit to be affected with it's Beauties.

The same Niceness of Judgment which makes some Men write sence, makes them very often shy and unwilling to appear in Print.

Among the several Expressions We may use for the same Thought, there is but an individual one which is good and proper; any other but that is flat and imperfect, and cannot please an ingenious Man that has a mind to explain what he thinks: And it is no small wonder to me to consider, what Pains, even the best of Writers are sometimes at, to seek out that Expression, which being the most simple and natural, ought consequently to have presented it self without Study.

'Tis to no great purpose that a Man seeks to make himself admir'd by his Composures: Blockheads, indeed, may oftentimes admire him but then they are but Blockheads; and as for Wits they have in themselves the seeds or hints of all the good and fine things that can possibly be thought of or said; and therefore they seldom admire any thing, but only approve of what hits their Palate.

The being a Critick is not so much a Science as a sort of laborious, and painful Employment, which requires more strength of Body, than delicacy of Wit, and more assiduity than natural Parts.

As some merit Praise for writing well, so do others for not writing at all.

That Author who chiefly endeavours to please the Taste of the Age he lives in, rather consults his private interest, than that of his Writings. We ought always to have perfection in Prospect as the chief thing we aim at, and that Point once gain'd, we may rest assured that unbyassed Posterity will do us Justice, which is often deny'd us by our Contemporaries.

'Tis matter of discretion in an Author to be extreamly reserv'd and modest when he speaks of the Work he is upon, for fear he should raise the World's Expectation too high: For it is most certain, that our Opinion of an extraordinary Promise, goes always further than the Performance, and a Man's Reputation cannot but be much lessen'd by such a Disparity.

The Name of the Author ought to be the last thing we inquire into, when we Judge of the merit of an ingenious Composure, but contrary to this maxim we generally judge of the Book by the Author, instead of judging of the Author by the Book.

As we see Women that without the knowledge of Men do sometimes bring forth inanimate and formless lumps of Flesh, but to cause a natural and perfect Generation, they are to be husbanded by another kind of seed, even so it is with Wit which if not applied to some certain study that may fix and restrain it, runs into a thousand Extravagancies, and is eternally roving here and there in the inextricable labyrinth of restless Imagination.

If every one who hears or reads a good Sentence or maxim, would immediately consider how it does any way touch his own private concern, he would soon find, that it was not so much a good saying, as a severe lash to the ordinary Bestiality of his judgment: but Men receive the Precepts and admonitions of Truth as generally directed to the common sort and never particularly to themselves, and instead of applying them to their own manners, do only very ignorantly and unprofitably commit them to Memory, without suffering themselves to be at all instructed, or converted by them.

We say of some compositions that they stink of Oil and smell of the Lamp, by reason of a certain rough harshness that the laborious handling imprints upon those, where great force has been employed: but besides this, the solicitude of doing well, and a certain striving and contending of a mind too far strain'd, and over-bent upon its undertaking, breaks and hinders it self, like Water that by force of its own pressing Violence and Abundance cannot find a ready issue through the neck of a Bottle, or a narrow sluice.

Humour, Temper, Education and a thousand other Circumstances create so great a difference betwixt the several Palates of Men, and their Judgments upon ingenious Composures, that nothing can be more chimerical and foolish in an Author than the Ambition of a general Reputation.

As Plants are suffocated and drown'd with too much nourishment, and Lamps with too much Oyl, so is the active part of the understanding with too much study and matter, which being embarass'd and confounded with the Diversity of things is deprived of the force and power to disingage it self; and by the Pressure of this weight, it is bow'd, subjected and rendred of no use.

* Studious and inquisitive Men commonly at forty or fifty at the most, have fixed and settled their judgments in most Points, and as it were made their last understanding, supposing they have thought, or read, or heard what can be said on all sides of things, and after that they grow positive and impatient of Contradiction, thinking it a disparagement to them to alter their Judgment.

All Skillful Masters ought to have a care not to let their Works be seen in Embryo, for all beginnings are defective, and the imagination is always prejudiced. The remembring to have seen a thing imperfect takes from one the Liberty of thinking it pretty when it is finished.

Many fetch a tedious Compass of Words, without ever coming to the Knot of the business: they make a thousand turnings and windings, that tire themselves and others, without ever arriving at the Point of importance. That proceeds from the Confusion of their Understanding, which cannot clear it self. They lose Time and Patience in what ought to be let alone, and then they have no more to bestow upon what they have omitted.

It is the Knack of Men of Wit to find out Evasions; With a touch of Gallantry they extricate themselves out of the greatest Labyrinth. A graceful smile will make them avoid the most dangerous Quarrel.

Mind, Understanding, Wit, Memory, Heart.

The Strength and Weakness of a Man's Mind, are improper Terms, since they are really nothing else but the Organs of our Bodies, being well or ill dispos'd.

'Tis a great Errour, the making a difference between the Wit and the Judgment: For, in truth, the Judgment is nothing else but the Brightness of Wit, which penetrates into the very bottom of Things, observes all that ought to be observ'd there, and descries what seem'd to be imperceptible. From whence we must conclude, That 'tis the Extention and Energy of this Light of Wit, that produces all those Effects, usually ascrib'd to Judgment.

All Men may be allowed to give a good Character of their Hearts (or Inclinations) but no body dares to speak well of his own Wit.

Polite Wit consists in nice, curious, and honest Thoughts.

The Gallantry of Wit consists in Flattery well couch'd.

It often happens, that some things offer themselves to our Wit, which are naturally finer and better, than is possible for a Man to make them by the Additions of Art and Study.

Wit is always made a Cully to the Heart.

Many People are acquainted with their own Wit, that are not acquainted with their own Heart.

It is not in the power of Wit, to act a long while the Part of the Heart.

A Man of Wit would be sometimes miserably at a loss, but for the
Company of Fools.

A Man of Wit may sometimes be a Coxcomb; but a Man of Judgment never can.

The different Ways or Methods for compassing a Design, come not so much from the Quickness and Fertility of an industrious Wit, as a dim-sighted Understanding, which makes us pitch upon every fresh Matter that presents itself to our groping Fancy, and does not furnish us with Judgment sufficient to discern at first sight, which or them is best for our Purpose.

The Twang of a Man's Native Country, sticks by him as much in his Mind and Disposition, as it does in his Tone of Speaking.

Wit serves sometimes to make us play the Fool with greater Confidence.

Shallow Wits are apt to censure everything above their own Capacity.

'Tis past the Power of Imagination it self, to invent so many distant Contrarieties, as there are naturally in the Heart of every Man.

No body is so well acquainted with himself, as to know his own Mind at all times.

Every body complains of his Memory, but no body of his Judgment.

There is a kind of general Revolution, not more visible in the turn it gives to the Fortunes of the World, than it is in the Change of Men's Understandings, and the different Relish or Wit.

Men often think to conduct and govern themselves, when all the while they are led and manag'd; and while their Understanding aims at one thing, their Heart insensibly draws them into another.

Great Souls are not distinguish'd by having less Passion, and more Virtue; but by having nobler and greater Designs than the Vulgar.

We allow few Men to be either Witty or Reasonable, besides those who are of our own Opinion.

We are as much pleas'd to discover another Man's Mind, as we are discontented to have our own found out.

A straight and well-contriv'd Mind, finds it easier to yield to a perverse one, than to direct and manage it.

Coxcombs are never so troublesome, as when they pretend to Wit.

A little Wit with Discretion, tires less at long-run, than much Wit without Judgment.

Nothing comes amiss to a great Soul; and there is as much Wisdom in bearing other People's Defects, as in relishing their good Qualities.

It argues a great heighth of Judgment in a Man, to discover what is in another's Breast, and to conceal what is in his own.

If Poverty be the Mother of Wickedness, want of Wit must be the
Father.

* A Mind that has no Ballance in it self, turns insolent, or abject, out of measure, with the various Change of Fortune.

* Our Memories are frail and treacherous; and we think many excellent things, which for want of making a deep impression, we can never recover afterwards. In vain we hunt for the stragling Idea, and rummage all the Solitudes and Retirements of our Soul, for a lost Thought, which has left no Track or Foot-steps behind it: The swift Off-spring of the Mind is gone; 'tis dead as soon as born; nay, often proves abortive in the moment it was conceiv'd: The only way therefore to retain our Thoughts, is to fasten them in Words, and chain them in Writing.

* A Man is never so great a Dunce by Nature, but Love, Malice, or Necessity, will supply him with some Wit.

* There is a Defect which is almost unavoidable in great Inventors; it is the Custom of such earnest and powerful Minds, to do wonderful Things in the beginning; but shortly after, to be over-born by the Multitude and Weight of their own Thoughts; then to yield and cool by little and little, and at last grow weary, and even to loath that, upon which they were at first the most eager. This is the wonted Constitution of great Wits; such tender things are those exalted Actions of the Mind; and so hard it is for those Imaginations, that can run swift and mighty Races, to be able to travel a long and constant Journey. The Effects of this Infirmity have been so remarkable, that we have certianly lost very many Inventions, after they have been in part fashion'd, by the meer Languishing and Negligence of their Authors.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Present State of Wit (1711), by John Gay