Forbear, loud thing! to live in laugh and jest ,
Wit is like love — the softest is the best!
If thou, by this, wouldst lively thought proclaim,
If empty praise is thy wild fancy's aim;
A while, this salt may season single life,
But no man's taste approves a picquant wife .
Be wise , and match, and charm, by judgment's aid,
Or witty , and despis'd, and die — a maid .
So, the thin razors , which young learners please ,
Grow notch'd, and edgeless, by unmark'd degrees,
'Till worn, and blunted, by too frequent use,
Th' experienc'd hand detects the steel's abuse:
Then cheaply thrown aside, they gather dust,
Like thee, neglected, 'till consum'd by rust.