In its metrical qualities the Essay on Criticism is the worst of Pope's poems. One blemish is a want of variety in his final words. "There are," says Hazlitt, "no less than half a score couplets rhyming to _sense_. This appears almost incredible without giving the instances, and no less so when they are given." But of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.--lines 3, 4. In search of wit, these lose their common sense, And then turn critics in their own defence.--l. 28, 29. Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence, And fills up all the mighty void of sense.--l. 209, 10. Some by old words to fame have made pretence, Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense.--l. 324, 5. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense.--l. 364, 5. At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence, That always shows great pride, or little sense.--l. 386, 7. Be silent always when you doubt your sense; And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence.--l. 566, 7. Be niggards of advice on no pretence: For the worst avarice is that of sense.--l. 578, 9. Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense, And rhyme with all the rage of impotence.--l. 608, 9. Horace still charms with graceful negligence, And without method talks us into sense.--l. 653, 4. The corresponding word which forms the rhyme is not always varied. "Offence" is used three times, and "defence" and "pretence" are each employed twice. Hazlitt might have remarked, that _wit_ was even more favoured than _sense_, and was used with greater laxity. A wit, in the reign of Queen Anne was not only a jester, but any author of distinction; and wit, besides its special signification, was still sometimes employed as synonymous with mind. The ordinary generic and specific meanings, already confusing and fruitful in ambiguities, were not sufficient for Pope. A wit with him was now a jester, now an author, now a poet, and now, again, was contradistinguished from poets. Wit was the intellect, the judgment, the antithesis to judgment, a joke, and poetry. The word does duty, with a perplexing want of precision, throughout the essay, and furnishes a dozen rhymes alone: Nature to all things fixed the limits fit, And wisely curbed proud man's pretending wit.--lines 52, 3. One science only will one genius fit; So vast is art, so narrow human wit.--l. 60, 1. A perfect judge will read each work of wit With the same spirit that its author writ.--l. 233, 4. Nor lose for that malignant dull delight, The gen'rous pleasure to be charmed with wit.--l. 237, 8. As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, T'avoid great errors, must the less commit.--l. 259, 60. Pleased with a work where nothing's just or fit; One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.--l. 291, 2.