* The name of a Wit is little better than a Slander, since it is generally given by those that have none, to those that have little.

“How strangely some words lose their Primitive Sense!  By a Critick, was originally understood a good Judge; with us now-a-days, it signifies no more than a Fault-finder.”

* A Critick in the Modern Acceptation, seldom rises, either in Merit, or Reputation; for it argues a mean grov’ling Genius, to be always finding Fault; whereas, a candid Judge of Things, not only improves his Parts, but gains every Body’s Esteem.

* None keep generally worse Company than your Establish’d Wits, for there are a sort of Coxcombs, that stick continually to them like Burrs, to make the Town think from their Company, that they are Men of Parts.

* Criticks are useful, that’s most certain, so are Executioners and Informers:  But what Man did ever envy the condition of Jack Ketch, or Jack P——­r.

* How can we love the Man, whose Office is to torture and execute other Men’s Reputation.

* After all, a Critick is the last Refuge of a pretender to Wit.

“Tis a great piece of Assurance in a profest Critick to write Plays, for if he does, he must expect to have the whole Club of Wits, scanning his Performances with utmost Severity, and magnifying his Slips into prodigious Faults.”

* I don’t wonder Men of Quality and Estate resort to Will’s, for really they make the best Figure there; an indifferent thing from ’em, passes for a Witty Jest, and sets presently the whole Company a Laughing.  Thus we admire the pert Talk of Children, because we expected nothing from ’em.

“There are many unpertinent Witlings at Will’s, that’s certain; but then your Retailers of Politicks, or of second-hand Wit at Tom’s, are ten times more intolerable.”

* Wits are generally the most dangerous Company a Woman can keep, for their Vanity makes ’em brag of more Favours than they obtain.

“Some Women care not what becomes of their Honour, so they may secure the Reputation of their Wit.

“Those People generally talk most, who have the least to say; go to Will’s, and you’ll hardly hear the Great Wycherley speak two Sentences in a quarter of an Hour, whilst Blatero, Hamilus, Turpinus; and twenty more egregious Coxcombs, deafen the Company with their Political Nonsense.

“There are at Will’s some Wit-carriers, whose business is, to export the fine Things they hear, from one Room to another, next to a Reciting-Poet; these Fellows are the most exquisite Plague to a Man of Sense.