Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/163

Rh The last, as boundless as the wind, Is well conceived, though not defin'd: For, sure, by wit is chiefly meant Applying well what we invent. What humour is, not all the tribe Of logickmongers can describe; Here nature only acts her part, Unhelp'd by practice, books, or art: For wit and humour differ quite; That gives surprise, and this delight. Humour is odd, grotesque, and wild, Only by affectation spoil'd: 'Tis never by invention got, Men have it when they know it not. Our conversation to refine. Humour and wit must both combine: From both we learn to rally well, Wherein sometimes the French excel; Voiture, in various lights, displays That irony which turns to praise: His genius first found out the rule For an obliging ridicule: He flatters with peculiar air The brave, the witty, and the fair: And fools would fancy he intends A satire, where he most commends. But, as a poor pretending beau, Because he fain would make a show, Nor can arrive at silver lace, Takes up with copper in the place: So the pert dunces of mankind, Whene'er they would be thought refin'd, As if the difference lay abstruse 'Twixt raillery and gross abuse; Rh