You vain Weak Wits, like vain Weak Lovers too,
Your selves, the more you Talk, less able show,
Like Bullies, more you Talk, the less you do;
More Strength you boast, more Impotent you prove,
For Talk, more Weak in Arms, Disputes, or Love;
Who, more you Prate, but make Men hear you less,
In many Words, less Meaning, but Express;
Till by your Talking thus incessantly,
You make your Wit, your Judgment, to deny
Mens Censure of your Sense, to justifie;
If you Talk'd less, your Sense wou'd more appear,
Your Silence, wou'd your Wisdom more declare,
And thee, Wits (who love Talking) more wou'd hear;
As your own Talk, but your own Self does please,
It can get, from your own Self, only Praise,
And Man's own Praise, is most his Wits Disgrace;
The more Loud, and Incessantly you Prate,
'Tis less known, what you wou'd be driving at,
Who Deafen your few Hearers, by your Chat;
Hold then thy Tongue, to prove thy Reason good,
Speak less, to have thy Sense more understood;
Your Loud Talk, takes our Hearing quite away,
The more you Talk, we mind less what you say;
Then Pratler! hold your Tongue once, (if you can)
Your Understanding better to maintain;
Since by concealing still your Folly, you
Will, to us, more your Sense, or Reason, show,
That your own self, you best, like Wise Men, know;
For if you cou'd, to hold your Tongue, be brought,
We might be brought, to think, you had some Thought;
Had you Sense, you might, by your Talking, find,
The more you Talk, we less, what you say, mind;
For Frothy, Pert Chat, like Wine, Sharp and Small,
The Conversation it shou'd mend, does Pall;
By which, it rather is debas'd, than rais'd,
And makes us spue, instead of being pleas'd;
Our Stomach turns, e'er it can reach our Heads,
Mirth it shou'd give, Good Company forbids;
Wit is, like Valour, lying in the Tongue
Alone, itself 'twou'd Right, does much more Wrong,
Like Rage, the more soon up, but lasts the less,
To prove a Jest more, for its Earnestness;
So you, who show less Strength of Sense, than Voice,
Prove your Sense less, the more you make a Noise;
As Watches, less True, for Alarums go,
So Men their False Sense, by Loud Tattle show;
To prove thy Sense, let not thy Mind be known,
Silence, without Wit, proves a Coxcomb none,
Nay, tho' far from a Wit, to pass for one;
For, if our Silence makes not our Wit out,
'Tis Wife to leave our Nonsense sure, in Doubt;
Silent Fools show, that their own selves they know,
And that is all the Height of Sense can do;
As Good Wits more Sense, in few Words, display,
Small Wits show most Sense, but the less they say;
If Wits, who talk most, least their Judgment show;
Fools, as it were Wits by their Silence grow;
By which they show, they know themselves at least,
Which the most useful Knowledge is, so best.