as Tit'lar Bishops made at Rome.
 'Tis not a Tale, 'tis not a Jest,
 Admir'd with Laughter at a Feast,
Nor florid Talk which can that Title gain;
The Proofs of Wit for ever must remain.

    IV.
'Tis not to force some Lifeless Verses meet,
 With their five gouty Feet.
All ev'ry where, like Man's, must be the Soul,
And Reason the inferior Pow'rs controul.
 Such were the Numbers which could call
 The Stones into the Theban Wall.
Such Miracles are ceas'd, and now we see
No Towns or Houses rais'd by Poetry.

    V.
Yet 'tis not to adorn, and gild each Part,
 That shews more Cost than Art.
Jewels at Nose, and Lips, but ill appear;
Rather than all Things Wit, let none be there.
 Several Lights will not be seen,
 If there be nothing else between.
Men doubt; because they stand so thick i' th' Sky.
If those be Stars which paint the Galaxy.

    VI.
'Tis not when two like Words make up one Noise;
 Jests for Dutch Men, and English Boys.
In which, who finds out Wit, the same may see
In An'grams and Acrostiques Poetry.
 Much less can that have any Place,
 At which a Virgin hides her Face;
Such Dross the Fire must purge away; 'Tis just
The Author blush, there where the Reader must.

    VII.
'Tis not such Lines as almost crack the Stage,
 When Bajazet begins to rage;
Not a tall Metaphor in th' bombast Way,
Nor the dry Chips of short-lung'd Seneca.
 Nor upon all Things to obtrude,
 And force some odd Similitude.
What is it then, which like the Pow'r Divine,
We only can by Negatives define?

    VIII.
In a true Piece of Wit, all Things must be,
 Yet all Things there agree;
As in the Ark, join 'd without Force or Strife,
All Creatures dwelt; all Creatures that had Life.
 Or as the primitive Forms of all,
 (If we compare great Things with small)
Which without Discord or Confusion lie,
In the strange Mirror of the Deity.

    IX.
But Love, that moulds one Man up out of two,
 Makes me forget, and injure you.
I took You for Myself, sure when I thought
That You in any thing were to be taught.
 Correct my Error with thy Pen,
 And if any ask me then,
What thing right Wit, and Height of Genius is,
I'll only shew your Lines, and say, 'Tis this.

The Spirit and Wit of this Ode are excellent; and yet it is evident, through the whole, that Mr. Cowley had no clear Idea of Wit, though at the same time it shines in most of these Lines: There is little Merit in saying what Wit is not, which is the chief Part of this Ode. Towards the End, he indeed attempts to describe what it is, but is quite vague and perplex'd in his Description; and at last, instead of collecting his scatter'd Rays into a Focus, and exhibiting succinctly the clear Essence and Power of Wit, he drops the whole with a trite Compliment.

The learned Dr. Barrow, in his Sermon against foolish Talking and Jesting, gives the following profuse Description of Wit.

But first it may be demanded, What the Thing we speak of is? Or what the Facetiousness (or Wit as he calls it before) doth import? To which Questions I might reply, as Democritus did to him that asked the Definition of a Man, 'Tis that we all see and know. Any one better apprehends what it is by Acquaintance, than I can inform him by Description. It is indeed a Thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many Shapes, so many Postures, so many Garbs, so variously apprehended by several Eyes and Judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain Notion thereof, than to make a Portrait of Proteus, or to define the Figure of the fleeting Air. Sometimes it lieth in pat Allusion to a known Story, or in seasonable Application of a trivial Saying, or in forging an apposite Tale: Sometimes it playeth in Words and Phrases, taking Advantage from the Ambiguity of their Sense, or the Affinity of their Sound: Sometimes it is wrapp'd in a Dress of humorous Expression: Sometimes it lurketh under an odd Similitude: Sometimes it is lodged in a sly Question, in a smart Answer, in a quirkish Reason, in a shrewd Intimation, in cunningly diverting, or cleverly retorting an Objection: Sometimes it is couched in a bold Scheme of Speech, in a tart Irony, in a lusty Hyperbole, in a startling Metaphor, in a plausible Reconciling of Contradictions, or in acute Nonsense; Sometimes a scenical Representation of Persons or Things, a counterfeit Speech, a mimical Look or Gesture passeth for it. Sometimes an affected Simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous Bluntness giveth it Being. Sometimes it riseth from a lucky Hitting upon what is Strange; sometimes from a crafty wresting obvious Matter to the Purpose. Often it' consisteth in one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. Its ways are unaccountable, and inexplicable, being answerable to the numberless Rovings of Fancy, and Windings of Language. It is, in short, a Manner of Speaking out of the simple and plain Way (such as Reason teacheth, and proveth Things by) which by a pretty, surprizing Uncouthness in Conceit or Expression, doth affect and amuse the Fancy, stirring in it some Wonder, and breeding some Delight thereto. It raiseth Admiration, as signifying a nimble Sagacity of Apprehension, a special Felicity of Invention, a Vivacity of Spirit, and Reach of Wit, more than vulgar; it seeming to argue a rare Quickness of Parts, that one can fetch in remote Conceits applicable; a notable Skill that he can dextrously accommodate them to the Purpose before him; together with a lively Briskness of Humour, not apt to damp those Sportful Flashes of Imagination. (Whence in Aristotle such Persons are termed epidexioi, dexterous Men, and eutropoi, Men of facile or versatile Manners, who can easily turn themselves to all Things, or turn all Things to themselves.) It also procureth Delight, by gratifying Curiosity with its Rareness, or Semblance of Difficulty. (As Monsters, not for their Beauty, but their Rarity; as juggling Tricks, not for their Use, but their Abstruseness, are beheld with Pleasure;) by diverting the Mind from its Road of serious Thoughts, by instilling Gaiety, and Airiness of Spirit; by provoking to such Disposition of Spirit in Way of Emulation, or Complaisance; and by seasoning Matters otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unusual and thence grateful Tange.

This Description, it is easy to perceive, must have cost the Author of it a great deal of Labour. It is a very full Specimen of that Talent of entirely exhausting a Subject, for