And still be doing, never done: 
  As if religion were intended
  For nothing else but to be mended. 
  A sect whose chief devotion lies
  In odd perverse antipathies: 
  In falling out with that or this,
  And finding somewhat still amiss
  More peevish, cross, and splenetic,
  Than dog distract, or monkey sick
  That with more care keep holiday
  The wrong, than others the right way: 
  Compound for sins they are inclin’d to,
  By damning those they have no mind to. 
  Still so perverse and opposite,
  As if they worshipp’d God for spite. 
  The self-same thing they will abhor
  One way, and long another for. 
  Free-will they one way disavow,
  Another, nothing else allow.

XV.  THE CHARACTER OF A SMALL POET.

    From Butler’s “Characters”, a series of satirical portraits akin to
    those of Theophrastus.

The Small Poet is one that would fain make himself that which nature never meant him; like a fanatic that inspires himself with his own whimsies.  He sets up haberdasher of small poetry, with a very small stock and no credit.  He believes it is invention enough to find out other men’s wit; and whatsoever he lights upon, either in books or company, he makes bold with as his own.  This he puts together so untowardly, that you may perceive his own wit as the rickets, by the swelling disproportion of the joints.  You may know his wit not to be natural, ’tis so unquiet and troublesome in him:  for as those that have money but seldom, are always shaking their pockets when they have it, so does he, when he thinks he has got something that will make him appear witty.  He is a perpetual talker; and you may know by the freedom of his discourse that he came lightly by it, as thieves spend freely what they get.  He is like an Italian thief, that never robs but he murders, to prevent discovery; so sure is he to cry down the man from whom he purloins, that his petty larceny of wit may pass unsuspected.  He appears so over-concerned in all men’s wits, as if they were but disparagements of his own; and cries down all they do, as if they were encroachments upon him.  He takes jests from the owners and breaks them, as justices do false weights, and pots that want measure.  When he meets with anything that is very good, he changes it into small money, like three groats for a shilling, to serve several occasions.  He disclaims study, pretends to take things in motion, and to shoot flying, which appears to be very true, by his often missing of his mark.  As for epithets, he always avoids those that are near akin to the sense.  Such matches are unlawful and not fit to be made by a Christian poet; and therefore all his care is to choose out such as will serve, like a wooden leg, to piece out a maimed verse that wants a foot or two, and if they will but rhyme now and then into the bargain, or run upon a letter, it is a work of supererogation.  For similitudes, he likes the hardest and most obscure