Unmoved though Witlings sneer and Rivals rail;
Studious to please, yet not ashamed to fail.
’Tis not the wholesome sharp morality,
Or modest anger of a satiric spirit,
That hurts or wounds the body of a state,
But the sinister applicationOf the malicious, ignorant, and base
Interpreter; who will distort and strain
The general scope and purpose of an author
To his particular and private spleen.
Lynx envers nos pareils, et taupes envers nous.
Lynx-eyed toward our equals, and moles to ourselves.
Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.
A wise scepticism is the first attribute of a good critic.
Nature fits all her children with something to do,
He who would write and can't write, can surely review;
Can set up a small booth as critic and sell us his
Petty conceit and his pettier jealousies.
In truth it may be laid down as an almost universal rule that good poets are bad critics.
The opinion of the great body of the reading public is very materially influenced even by the unsupported assertions of those who assume a right to criticise.
To check young Genius' proud career,
The slaves who now his throne invaded,
Made Criticism his prime Vizier,
And from that hour his glories faded.
And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd shade,
Admire new light thro' holes yourselves have made.
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss.
| author = Pope
| work = Essay on Criticism.
| place = Pt. I. L. 6.
| note =
| topic =
| page = 151
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>The generous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire,
And taught the world with reason to admire.
The line too labours, and the words move slow.
A perfect Judge will read each work of Wit
With the same spirit that its author writ:
Survey the Whole, nor seek slight faults to find
Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind.
In every work regard the writer's End,
Since none can compass more than they intend;
And if the means be just, the conduct true,
Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
Be not the first by whom the new are tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast,
Nor in the Critic let the Man be lost.
I lose my patience, and I own it too,
When works are censur'd, not as bad but new:
While if our Elders break all reason's laws,
These fools demand not pardon but Applause.
For some in ancient books delight,
Others prefer what moderns write; Now I should be extremely loth Not to be thought expert in both. </poem> Prior—Alma.
Die Kritik nimmt oft dem Baume
Raupen und Bliithen mit einander.
Criticism often takes from the tree
Caterpillars and blossoms together.
Jean Paul Richter—Titan. Zykel 105. </poem>
When in the full perfection of decay.
Turn vinegar, and come again in play.
| author = Sackville
| cog = (Earl of Dorset)
| work = Address to Ned Howard.
| note = Quoted in Dryden's Dedication to translation of Ovid.
| seealso = (See also Shenstone)
| topic =
| page = 151
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear his comment.
Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.
For 'tis a physic
That's bitter to sweet end.
For I am nothing, if not critical.
Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thief-taker in despair, so an unsuccessful author turns critic.
