is eye[2].

Neither has he so far forgotten a poor inhabitant of his suburbs,
whose best prospect is on the garden of Leicester House, but that more
than once he has been offering him his patronage, to reconcile him to
a world, of which his misfortunes have made him weary[3]. There is
another Sidney still remaining, though there can never be another
Spenser to deserve the favour. But one Sidney gave his patronage to
the applications of a poet; the other offered it unasked. Thus,
whether as a second Atticus, or a second Sir Philip Sidney, the latter
in all respects will not have the worse of the comparison; and if he
will take up with the second place, the world will not so far flatter
his modesty, as to seat him there, unless it be out of a deference of
manners, that he may place himself where he pleases at his own table.

I may therefore safely conclude, that he, who, by the consent of all
men, bears so eminent a character, will out of his inborn nobleness
forgive the presumption of this address. It is an unfinished picture,
I confess, but the lines and features are so like, that it cannot be
mistaken for any other; and without writing any name under it, every
beholder must cry out, at first sight,--this was designed for Atticus;
but the bad artist has cast too much of him into shades. But I have
this excuse, that even the greatest masters commonly fall short of the
best faces. They may flatter an indifferent beauty; but the
excellencies of nature can have no right done to them; for there both
the pencil and pen are overcome by the dignity of the subject; as our
admirable Waller has expressed it,

The heroe's race transcends the poet's thought.

There are few in any age who can bear the load of a dedication; for
where praise is undeserved, it is satire; though satire on folly is
now no longer a scandal to any one person, where a whole age is dipt
together. Yet I had rather undertake a multitude one way, than a
single Atticus the other; for it is easier to descend than it is to
climb. I should have gone ashamed out of the world, if I had not at
least attempted this address, which I have long thought owing: and if
I had never attempted, I might have been vain enough to think I might
have succeeded in it. Now I have made the experiment, and have failed
through my unworthiness, I may rest satisfied, that either the
adventure is not to be atchieved, or that it is reserved for some
other hand.

Be pleased, therefore,