ecome happy
by their want of wit; but they supply that want by an excess of malice
to those who have it. And there is no such persecution as that of
fools: They can never be considerable enough to be talked of
themselves; so that they are safe only in their obscurity, and grow
mischievous to witty men, by the great diligence of their envy, and by
being always present to represent and aggravate their faults. In the
mean time, they are forced, when they endeavour to be pleasant, to
live on the offals of their wit whom they decry; and either to quote
it, (which they do unwillingly) or to pass it upon others for their
own. These are the men who make it their business to chace wit from
the knowledge of princes, lest it should disgrace their ignorance. And
this kind of malice your lordship has not so much avoided, as
surmounted. But if by the excellent temper of a royal master, always
more ready to hear good than ill; if by his inclination to love you;
if by your own merit and address; if by the charms of your
conversation, the grace of your behaviour, your knowledge of
greatness, and habitude in courts, you have been able to preserve
yourself with honour in the midst of so dangerous a course; yet at
least the remembrance of those hazards has inspired you with pity for
other men, who, being of an inferior wit and quality to you, are yet
persecuted, for being that in little, which your lordship is in
great[2]. For the quarrel of those people extends itself to any thing
of sense; and if I may be so vain to own it, amongst the rest of the
poets, has sometimes reached to the very borders of it, even to me. So
that, if our general good fortune had not raised up your lordship to
defend us, I know not whether any thing had been more ridiculous in
court than writers. It is to your lordship's favour we generally owe
our protection and patronage; and to the nobleness of your nature,
which will not suffer the least shadow of your wit to be contemned in
other men. You have been often pleased, not only to excuse my
imperfections, but to vindicate what was tolerable in my writings from
their censures; and, what I never can forget, you have not only been
careful of my reputation, but of my fortune. You have been solicitous
to supply my neglect of myself; and to overcome the fatal modesty of
poets, which submits them to perpetual wants, rather than to become
importunate with those people who have the liberality of kings in
their disposing, a