Let those find fault whose wit's so very small,  
  They've need to show that they can think at all;  
  Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow;  
  He who would search for pearls, must dive below.  
  Fops may have leave to level all they can;  
  As pigmies would be glad to lop a man.  
  Half-wits are fleas; so little and so light,  
  We scarce could know they live, but that they bite.
Prologue - All for Love (1678)























