courts, there are too many, who make it their business to ruin wit; and Montaigne, in other places, tells us, what effects he found of their good natures.  He describes them such, whose ambition, lust, or private interest, seem to be the only end of their creation.  If good accrue to any from them, it is only in order to their own designs:  conferred most commonly on the base and infamous; and never given, but only happening sometimes on well-deservers.  Dulness has brought them to what they are; and malice secures them in their fortunes.  But somewhat of specious they must have, to recommend themselves to princes, (for folly will not easily go down in its own natural form with discerning judges,) and diligence in waiting is their gilding of the pill; for that looks like love, though it is only interest.  It is that which gains them their advantage over witty men; whose love of liberty and ease makes them willing too often to discharge their burden of attendance on these officious gentlemen.  It is true, that the nauseousness of such company is enough to disgust a reasonable man; when he sees, he can hardly approach greatness, but as a moated castle; he must first pass through the mud and filth with which it is encompassed.  These are they, who, wanting wit, affect gravity, and go by the name of solid men; and a solid man is, in plain English, a solid, solemn fool.  Another disguise they have, (for fools, as well as knaves, take other names, and pass by an alias) and that is, the title of honest fellows.  But this honesty of theirs ought to have many grains for its allowance; for certainly they are no farther honest, than they are silly:  They are naturally mischievous to their power; and if they speak not maliciously, or sharply, of witty men, it is only because God has not bestowed on them the gift of utterance.  They fawn and crouch to men of parts, whom they cannot ruin; quote their wit when they are present, and, when they are absent steal their jests; but to those who are under them, and whom they can crush with ease, they shew themselves in their natural antipathy; there they treat wit like the common enemy, and giving no more quarter, than a Dutchman would to an English vessel in the Indies; they strike sail where they know they shall be mastered, and murder where they can with safety.

This, my lord, is the character of a courtier without wit; and therefore that which is a satire to other men, must be a panegyric to your lordship, who are a master of it.  If the least of these reflections could have reached your person, no necessity of mine could have made me to have sought so earnestly, and so long, to have cultivated your kindness.  As a poet, I cannot but have made some observations on mankind; the lowness of my fortune has not yet brought me to flatter vice; and it is my duty to give testimony to virtue.  It is true, your lordship is not of that nature, which either seeks a commendation, or wants it.  Your mind has always been above the