He hacked and hewed right and left; omitted, compressed, rearranged, and occasionally inserted additions of his own devising.

Wycherley's memory had been enfeebled by illness, and now played him strange tricks.

He was in the habit of reading himself to sleep with Montaigne, Rochefoucauld, and Racine.

Next morning he would, with entire unconsciousness, write down as his own the thoughts of his author, or repeat almost word for word some previous composition of his own.

To remove such repetitions thoroughly would require a very free application of the knife, and Pope would not be slow to discover that he was wasting talents fit for original work in botching and tinkering a mass of rubbish.
Any man of ripe years would have predicted the obvious consequences; and, according to the ordinary story, those consequences followed.