If you had recited any thing to Quintilius, he would say," Alter, I pray, this and this:" if you replied, you could do it no better, having made the experiment twice or thrice in vain; he would order you to blot out, and once more apply to the anvil your ill- formed verses: if you choose rather to defend than correct a fault, he spent not a word more nor fruitless labor, but you alone might be fond of yourself and your own works, without a rival. A good and sensible man will censure spiritless verses, he will condemn the rugged, on the incorrect he will draw across a black stroke with his pen; he will lop off ambitious[ and redundant] ornaments; he will make him throw light on the parts that are not perspicuous; he will arraign what is expressed ambiguously; he will mark what should be altered;[ in short,] he will be an Aristarchus: he will not say," Why should I give my friend offense about mere trifles? " These trifles will lead into mischiefs of serious consequence, when once made an object of ridicule, and used in a sinister manner. 