Is a poet of small wares, whose Muse is short-winded and quickly out of
breath. She flies like a goose, that is no sooner upon the wing but down
again. He was originally one of those authors that used to write upon
white walls, from whence his works, being collected and put together,
pass in the world like single money among those that deal in small
matters. His wit is like fire in a flint, that is nothing while it is
in, and nothing again as soon as it is out. He treats of all things and
persons that come in his way, but like one that draws in little, much
less than the life:--
His bus'ness is t' inveigh and flatter,
Like parcel parasite and satyr.
He is a kind of vagabond writer, that is never out of his way, for
nothing is beside the purpose with him that proposes none at all. His
works are like a running banquet, that have much variety but little of a
sort, for he deals in nothing but scraps and parcels, like a tailor's
broker. He does not write, but set his mark upon things, and gives no
account in words at length, but only in figures. All his wit reaches but
to four lines or six at the most; and if he ever venture farther it
tires immediately, like a post-horse, that will go no farther than his
wonted stages. Nothing agrees so naturally with his fancy as bawdry,
which he dispenses in small pittances to continue his reader still in an
appetite for more.