Her Fall is steep, and all her Foes are great.

And my Lady _Winchelsea_ in her Poem entituled, _The Poor Man's Lamb_;

Thus wash'd in Tears, thy Soul as fair does show
As the first Fleece, which on the Lamb does grow.

Sir, from these numerous Instances, out of the Writings of our
greatest and noblest Poets, it is apparent, That had the Enmity
against _Monosyllables_, with which there are some who make so great
a Clamour, been so great in all Times, we must have been deprived of
some of the best Lines, and finest Flowers, that are to be met with in
the beautiful Garden of our _English_ Posie. Perhaps this may put our
Countreymen upon studying with greater Niceness the use of these kind
of Words, as well in the Heroick Compositions, as in the softer and
more gentle Strains. I speak not this, upon Confidence of any Judgment
I have in _Poetry_, but according to that Skill, which is natural to
the Musick of a _Northern Ear_, which, if it be deficient, as I shall
not be very obstinate in its Defence, I beg leave it may at least be
permitted the Benefit of Mr. _Dryden_'s Apology, for the Musick of old
Father _Chaucer_'s Numbers, "That there is the rude Sweetness of a
_Scotch_ Tune in it, which is natural and pleasing, tho' not perfect."

Sir, I must beg your Pardon for this long Digression, upon a Subject
which many will think does not deserve it: but if I have herein
discover'd some of the greatest Beauties of our _English_ Poets, it
will be more excusable, at least for the respect that is intended to
so noble an Art as theirs. But to suspect the worst, considering that
I am now writing a Preface, I am provided with another Apology from
Mr. _Dryden_, who cautions his Reader with this Observation, _That the