Voiture! whose gentle Papers so refin'd ,
As hee comes out, not Characters but Mind ;
Whose LETTERS so abstract hee doth dispence,
That hee's not Writer, but Intelligence;
All Aire, Fire, Spirit; Reader be blest
To bee Calcin'd thus nobly, and Possest,
Whilst your first Thoughts now breake as Prim'tive Witt
And what you speak not Tasts on't, but is it.

R: Louelace .