Read it through once

'Twere well might critics still this freedom take, But Appius reddens at each word you speak, [585] And stares, tremendous with a threatening eye, Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry Fear most to tax an honorable fool Whose right it is uncensured to be dull Such, without wit are poets when they please, As without learning they can take degrees Leave dangerous truths to unsuccessful satires, And flattery to fulsome dedicators Whom, when they praise, the world believes no more, Than when they promise to give scribbling o'er.