satire-in-fiction

"O thou! whatever title please thine ear, Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver! Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair."

"Poetic Justice, with her lifted scale, Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs, And solid pudding against empty praise."

"Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er, But lived in Settle's numbers one day more."

"While pensive poets painful vigils keep, Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep."

"Next o'er his books his eyes begin to roll, In pleasing memory of all he stole; How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd snug, And suck'd all o'er like an industrious bug."

"Or where the pictures for the page atone, And Quarles is saved by beauties not his own."

"Soon to that mass of nonsense to return, Where things destroy'd are swept to things unborn."

"How index-learning turns no student pale, Yet holds the eel of science by the tail."

"And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke."

"A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead."

"But blind to former, as to future Fate, What mortal knows his pre-existent state?"

"Another, yet the same."

"Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn, And Pan to Moses lends his pagan horn."

"Peeled, patched, and piebald, linsey-woolsey brothers, Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless others. That once was Britain."

"All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd to fame."

"Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls, And makes night hideous; —answer him, ye owls!"

"Immortal Rich! how calm he sits at ease, Midst snows of paper, and fierce hail of pease; And proud his mistress' order to perform, Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm."

"To aid our cause, if Heav'n thou can'st not bend, Hell thou shalt move."

"A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits."

"How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast!"

"The Right Divine of Kings to govern wrong."

"Stuff the head With all such reading as was never read: For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, And write about it, Goddess, and about it."

"To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines."

"Led by my hand, he sauntered Europe round, And gathered every vice on Christian ground."

"Judicious drank, and greatly daring din'd."

"Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair, And heard thy everlasting yawn confess The pains and penalties of idleness."

"E'en Palinurus nodded at the helm."

"Philosophy, that lean'd on heaven before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense!"

"Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread empire Chaos! is restored: Light dies before thy uncreating word; Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all."

"[P]erhaps the best specimen that has yet appeared of personal satire ludicrously pompous."