he
world has been very favourable, and he has not the least reason to
complain". And yet he wrote it in a week at bits and starts, when he
could steal an hour from his urgent affairs, as it is a hundred to one
you may see further in the preface, to which he refers you, and for the
rest to the bookseller. There you go as a customer, and make the same
question, "He blesses his God the thing takes wonderful; he is just
printing a second edition, and has but three left in his shop". You
beat down the price; "Sir, we shall not differ", and in hopes of your
custom another time, lets you have it as reasonable as you please; "And
pray send as many of your acquaintance as you will; I shall upon your
account furnish them all at the same rate".

Now it is not well enough considered to what accidents and occasions
the world is indebted for the greatest part of those noble writings
which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day,
a drunken vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy
Sunday, an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a
factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just
contempt of learning,--but for these events, I say, and some others too
long to recite (especially a prudent neglect of taking brimstone
inwardly), I doubt the number of authors and of writings would dwindle
away to a degree most woeful to behold. To confirm this opinion, hear
the words of the famous troglodyte philosopher. "It is certain," said
he, "some grains of folly are of course annexed as part in the
composition of human nature; only the choice is left us whether we
please to wear them inlaid or embossed, and we need not go very far to
seek how that is usually determined, when we remember it is with human
faculties as with liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top."

There is in this famous island of Britain a certain paltry scribbler,
very voluminous, whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger
to. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings called "Second Parts",
and usually passes under the name of "The Author of the First". I
easily foresee that as soon as I lay down my pen this nimble operator
will have stole it, and treat me as inhumanly as he has already done
Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others who shall here be nameless. I
therefore fly for justice and relief into the hands of that great
rectifier of saddles and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley, begging h