JOCUS. In every work they write, how odd it is These Lakish poets seem to woo the quiz!
POCUS. Such is the case; their imitators too Always hang out this sign to catch the view. Thus Lloyd is smitten with the same disease, Hoping by quaintnesses the world to please.
HOCUS. He shines most in translation—
POCUS. Also Lambe,* Whom Covent Garden once contrived to damn.
HOCUS. His Farce you mean 'tis better than the mass Of flitting dramas that before us pass. His tales are so affected in their style That oft, in lieu of tears, they cause a smile.
* Lambe is also a pleasing writer, but egregiously affected. His "Mr. H." possesses excellencies as a farce, that induce me to wish its author would devote himself to such a species of writing, instead of mawkish tales, or such vapid and thoroughly ridiculous articles as most of those "Elia" writes in the London Magazine.
