O gracious God! how far have we Profaned thy heavenly gift of poesy! - John Dryden

Plots, true or false, are necessary things,
To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.

Music is the exultation of Poetry. Both of them may excel apart but... are most excellent when they are joined.

The rest to some faint meaning make pretense,
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
Strike through and make a lucid interval;
But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray,
His rising fogs prevail upon the day.