“Tempora certa modosque, et, quod prius ordine verbum est,
          Posterius facias, praeponens ultima primis
          Invenias etiam disjecti membra poetae.”

["Take away certain rhythms and measures, and make the word which was first in order come later, putting that which should be last first, you will still find the scattered remains of the poet.”  —­Horace, Sat., i. 4, 58.]

he will never the more lose himself for that; the very pieces will be fine by themselves.  Menander’s answer had this meaning, who being reproved by a friend, the time drawing on at which he had promised a comedy, that he had not yet fallen in hand with it; “It is made, and ready,” said he, “all but the verses.”—­[Plutarch, Whether the Athenians more excelled in Arms or in Letters.]—­Having contrived the subject, and disposed the scenes in his fancy, he took little care for the rest.  Since Ronsard and Du Bellay have given reputation to our French poesy, every little dabbler, for aught I see, swells his words as high, and makes his cadences very near as harmonious as they: 

“Plus sonat, quam valet.”

["More sound than sense”—­Seneca, Ep., 40.]

For the vulgar, there were never so many poetasters as now; but though they find it no hard matter to imitate their rhyme, they yet fall infinitely short of imitating the rich descriptions of the one, and the delicate invention of the other of these masters.

But what will become of our young gentleman, if he be attacked with the sophistic subtlety of some syllogism?  “A Westfalia ham makes a man drink; drink quenches thirst:  ergo a Westfalia ham quenches thirst.”  Why, let him laugh at it; it will be more discretion to do so, than to go about to answer it; or let him borrow this pleasant evasion from Aristippus:  “Why should I trouble myself to untie that, which bound as it is, gives me so much trouble?”—­[Diogenes Laertius, ii. 70.]—­ One offering at this dialectic juggling against Cleanthes, Chrysippus took him short, saying, “Reserve these baubles to play with children, and do not by such fooleries divert the serious thoughts of a man of years.”  If these ridiculous subtleties,

“Contorta et aculeata sophismata,”

as Cicero calls them, are designed to possess him with an untruth, they are dangerous; but if they signify no more than only to make him laugh, I do not see why a man need to be fortified against them.  There are some so ridiculous, as to go a mile out of their way to hook in a fine word: 

          “Aut qui non verba rebus aptant, sed res extrinsecus
          arcessunt, quibus verba conveniant.”

     ["Who do not fit words to the subject, but seek out for things
     quite from the purpose to fit the words.”—­Quintilian, viii. 3.]

And as another says,

          “Qui, alicujus verbi decore placentis, vocentur ad id,
          quod non proposuerant scribere.”