authors, and those not useless or contemptible, words are almost
the only care: many make it their study, not so much to strike out new
sentiments, as to recommend those which are already known to more
favourable notice by fairer decorations; but every man, whether he
copies or invents, whether he delivers his own thoughts or those of
another, has often found himself deficient in the power of expression,
big with ideas which he could not utter, obliged to ransack his memory
for terms adequate to his conceptions, and at last unable to impress
upon his reader the image existing in his own mind.

It is one of the common distresses of a writer, to be within a word of a
happy period, to want only a single epithet to give amplification its
full force, to require only a correspondent term in order to finish a
paragraph with elegance, and make one of its members answer to the
other; but these deficiencies cannot always be supplied: and after a
long study and vexation, the passage is turned anew, and the web unwoven
that was so nearly finished.

But when thoughts and words are collected and adjusted, and the whole
composition at last concluded, it seldom gratifies the author, when he
comes coolly and deliberately to review it, with the hopes which had
been excited in the fury of the performance: novelty always captivates
the mind; as our thoughts rise fresh upon us, we readily believe them
just and original, which, when the pleasure of production is over, we
find to be mean and common, or borrowed from the works of others, and
supplied by memory rather than invention.

But though it should happen that the writer finds no such faults in his
performance, he is still to remember, that he looks upon it with partial
eyes: and when he considers, how much men, who could judge of others
with great exactness, have often failed of judging of themselves, he
will be afraid of deciding too hastily in his own favour, or of allowing
himself to contemplate with too much complacence, treasure that has not
yet been brought to the test, nor passed the only trial that can stamp
its value.

From the publick, and only from the publick, is he to await a
confirmation of his claim, and a final justification of self-esteem; but
the publick is not easily persuaded to favour an author. If mankind were
left to judge for themselves, it is reasonable to imagine, that of such
writings, at least, as describe the movements of the human passions, and
of which