NOT being able to Excuse my self from the Importunity of some Persons of Quality, and others of my best Friends, whose obliging Requests, as well as generous Subscriptions, have been the chiefest Reasons of my publishing the following Sheets; it would be an unpardonable Fault, and indeed a Presumption in me not to beg the unbiassed and Impartial Reader, to favor them with his good Nature, and wink at the many Errors and loose Writing in several of them, some having been written many Years ago, and upon low Subjects, especially the two Burlesque Letters, which were written for a Friend in haste, and upon a Subject given me. The Ladies too I must beg to Pardon me for a loose Copy or two, particularly, Phillidor's Tale of a True Intrigue, Page 40. which was turn'd into Verse from the Story which the Gentleman[Page] himself told me, and though the Freedom of it may disoblige some of the Nicest of the Fair Sex, who will be noted to understand more than they should, yet 'tis my hope, that the more Iudicious will only look upon it as it is, a piece of Mirth, and a natural Description of a Comical Accident, or else, which is much better, forbear looking on it at all, and so be accounted extraordinary for suppressing a Curiosity, which it was never known a Woman was Capable of doing before. In Collections of this Nature, both good and bad, wanton and serious, generally mix, though not with the Author's liking, yet for the Stationer's advantage of swelling the Book, in which, I hope, there are some others that will make amends, viz. The Essay in Defence of Verse, The Elegy on the Duke of Ormond; The Dream; The Ode to the King, Page 180, &c. which have had the good Fortune to be approv'd of and commended by some of the best Iudges of Poetry these latter Ages have produc'd; and will, I hope, find the same success with the Ingenious Reader; Though I must confess the first is a Theme of that Value, that it were fitter[Page] to employ the Inimitable Pen of Mr. Dryden, than any Poet of a meaner Class, the Sordid Enemies of this Noble Art being so numerous, and consequently the defence of it so much the more difficult; This has given me occasion to recount in the aforesaid Essay the nature of the Criticks and Iudges of the former Golden Age, and compare them with our present Iron one, viz.

most of our Town Wits Criticising upon Poetry, not through any solid Understanding they have of the matter, but to insinuate a Value of their Eminent Parts into some unheeding Auditor, that easily could, but thinks it loss of time to contradict them.

Thus has dejected Poetry, in this Age, very few or no real Friends; Those that judicially[Page] can correct Errors, being modestly unwilling to expose them, and those that cannot, most impudently too forward in pretending to it; like a Country Clown at Cudgels with a Master of Defence, still striking without Fear or Wit, though at every blow the Blood runs about his own Ears, through his want of Skill, and ridiculous Rashness.

The Odes and Songs that I have here publish'd, have, I thank my Fortune, as well as those formerly printed, generally pleas'd the Town, and though some may appear a little rough and unpolish'd in the Reading, the amends is made when they are Sung, for I have still taken care to put some Fancy and Thought in them, and the Iudicious are sensible that 'tis no easie matter, nor is it every one's Talent to confine Sense and smooth Verse to Notes, the quality of performing it well, being as particular as difficult.

It does not, thank my Stars, afflict me much to know, that a certain very unweildy Author of this Age, has been this Ten Years pecking at me about this matter, though with as little Success as he had Reason to do so, I having no Correspondency with him, nor to the[Page] best of my Memory, have any of our Brethern ever given him any occasion to shew the scurrility of his Satyr, in expressing himself in such Tropes as these, Fellows of no Genius, yelping Curs, Parasites, Knaves, &c. nor does it concern us at all to know whether Poetitto or Poetdungus, be the best name for a comical Author, we have, I think, two ways to expound him, and I suppose he is pleased to new baptize us, either, for diminutive Wits, or Persons: if for the first we must comfort our selves, and be instructed as well as we can; but for my own part if he lashes me for want of shape, that I confess from him troubles me extremely.

I am not very uneasie neither to have if judg'd whether my Grubstreet Songs, as he hints at them, or his late Grubstreet Anniversary Ode be the most notorious, or in his own Phrase, most like the Stile of Tom Farthing: I know what the Town says. And since it has sufficiently expos'd its own defects, I shall think my Injury reveng'd to the full, and therefore rest satisfied till farther Provocation.

There is no Passion incident to Humanity[Page] of so low and base a degree as Malice, which I could lash to the quick; nor would the Title of Poet Laureate, and Historiographer Royal, at all deter me from a just Resentment, if I had not an awful Veneration for that noble Patron of Wit and Poetry, whose Indulgence and excellent Nature has been the occasion of bestowing so great a Bounty where it is, and I shall rather believe it the just reward of Merit and Loyalty, as some would fain have it thought, than doubt in the least the Iustice or Iudgment of a Noble Man, belov'd, reverenc'd, and admir'd, by all that ever had any true Pretences to Wit or Learning.

And now, I think, 'tis time to beg the Reader's Pardon for this Prolixity, which I could not avoid having been so often affronted without any cause given, and once more desire his Favor on the following Sheets, with a faithful Promise, that when next I trouble the Press it shall be on a Subject that shall less tire his Patience, and give him much more Diversion.