YOUR News and Review, Sir, I've read through and through, Sir,
With little admiring or blaming:
The Papers are barren of home-news or foreign,
No murders or rapes worth the naming.-------

Our friends the Reviewers, those Chippers and Hewers,
Are judges of Mortar and Stone, Sir;
But of meet, or unmeet, In a Fabrick complete,
I'll boldly pronounce they are none, Sir.-------

My Goose-quill too rude is to tell all your goodness
Bestowed on your servant, The Poet;
Would to God I had one like a beam of the Sun,
And then all the World should know it!