Notwithstanding this prompt suppression, however, the design reappeared the following year, reduced in size, as frontispiece to a pirated edition of Pope’s “Epistle,” which was included in a pamphlet entitled _A Miscellany on Taste; by {99} Mr. Pope, etc._, published by Lawton and others. Its contents were (1) Of Taste in Architecture, an Epistle to the Earl of Burlington, with _Notes Variorum_, and a complete Key; (2) Of Mr. Pope’s Taste in Divinity: viz., the Fall of Man, and the First Psalm, translated for the use of a Young Lady; (3) Of Mr. Pope’s Taste of Shakespeare; (4) His Satire on Mr. P——y; and (5) Mr. Congreve’s fine Epistle on Retirement and Taste, addressed to Lord Cobham. In this copy of the plate Pope, who is shown in the original by means of the back of his head and figure, and as wearing a full-bottomed wig, is more distinctly satirised, his face being displayed in profile, and his head enclosed by a linen cap instead of a wig. Amongst a few other minor alterations, it may be noticed that the palette held by Kent is transferred from one hand to the other. Referring to the republication of Hogarth’s cartoon in this form, Mr. Dobson seems somewhat inclined to argue against the story of its “suppression,” or, at any rate, its effectual suppression; but he does not allude to the important fact that the publisher of this pamphlet {100} was _also_ promptly prosecuted, and the sale strictly prohibited. From which it is clear that the suppression was as unqualified and as prompt as could reasonably be expected. Steevens indeed mentions a copy upon which the following inscription had been made:— “Bo^t. this book of Mr. Wayte, at the Fountain Tavern, in the Strand, in the presence of Mr. Draper, who told me he had it of the Printer, Mr. W. Rayner. “J. COSINS.” The signatory was an Attorney, and the wording of the memorandum suggests the intended prosecution. To return to Pope’s poem. In it he passes the most scathing criticism upon the splendid but tasteless surroundings of “Timon” at his stupendous villa. “Greatness, with Timon, dwells in such a draught As brings all Brobdingnag before your thought. To compass this, his building is a town, His pond an ocean, his parterre a down: Who but must laugh, the master when he sees, A puny insect, shivering at the breeze! Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around! The whole, a labour’d quarry above ground. Two cupids squirt before: a lake behind Improves the keenness of the northern wind. His gardens next your admiration call, On every side you look, behold the wall! {101} No pleasing intricacies intervene, No artful wildness to perplex the scene; Grove nods at grove, each valley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other.”