For Satyre, that most needful part of our Poetry, it has of late been more abus’d, and is grown more degenerate than any other; most commonly, like a Sword in the hands of a Madman, it runs a Tilt at all manner of Persons without any sort of distinction or reason; and so ill-guided is this furious Career, that the Thrusts are most aim’d where the Enemy is best arm’d. —Robert Wolseley
