far with French poets, but that I find our Chedreux[2] critics wholly form their judgments by them.  But for my part, I desire to be tried by the laws of my own country; for it seems unjust to me, that the French should prescribe here, till they have conquered.  Our little sonetteers, who follow them, have too narrow souls to judge of poetry.  Poets themselves are the most proper, though I conclude not the only critics.  But till some genius, as universal as Aristotle, shall arise, one who can penetrate into all arts and sciences, without the practice of them, I shall think it reasonable that the judgment of an artificer in his own art should be preferable to the opinion of another man; at least where he is not bribed by interest, or prejudiced by malice.  And this, I suppose, is manifest by plain inductions:  For, first, the crowd cannot be presumed to have more than a gross instinct, of what pleases or displeases them:  Every man will grant me this; but then, by a particular kindness to himself, he draws his own stake first, and will be distinguished from the multitude, of which other men may think him one.  But, if I come closer to those who are allowed for witty men, either by the advantage of their quality, or by common fame, and affirm that neither are they qualified to decide sovereignly concerning poetry, I shall yet have a strong party of my opinion; for most of them severally will exclude the rest, either from the number of witty men, or at least of able judges.  But here again they are all indulgent to themselves; and every one who believes himself a wit, that is, every man, will pretend at the same time to a right judgeing.  But to press it yet farther, there are many witty men, but few poets; neither have all poets a taste of tragedy.  And this is the rock on which they are daily splitting.  Poetry, which is a picture of nature, must generally please; but it is not to be understood that all parts of it must please every man; therefore is not tragedy to be judged by a witty man, whose taste is only confined to comedy.  Nor is every man who loves tragedy, a sufficient judge of it; he must understand the excellencies of it too, or he will only prove a blind admirer, not a critic.  From hence it comes that so many satires on poets, and censures of their writings, fly abroad.  Men of pleasant conversation, (at least esteemed so) and endued with a trifling kind of fancy, perhaps helped out with some smattering of Latin, are ambitious to distinguish themselves from the herd of gentlemen, by their poetry;

  Rarus enim ferme; sensus communis in illa
  Fortuna.