upon some false Maecenas, whose future conduct gives the lie to his
eulogium, and involves him in shame and confusion of face. Such was the
fate of a late ingenious author [the Author of the "Seasons"], who was so
often put to the blush for the undeserved incense he had offered in the
heat of an enthusiastic disposition, misled by popular applause, that he
had resolved to retract, in his last will, all the encomiums which he had
thus prematurely bestowed, and stigmatise the unworthy by name--a
laudable scheme of poetical justice, the execution of which was fatally
prevented by untimely death.

Whatever may have been the fate of other dedicators, I, for my own part,
sit down to write this address, without any apprehension of disgrace or
disappointment; because I know you are too well convinced of my affection
and sincerity to repine at what I shall say touching your character and
conduct. And you will do me the justice to believe, that this public
distinction is a testimony of my particular friendship and esteem.

Not that I am either insensible of your infirmities, or disposed to
conceal them from the notice of mankind. There are certain foibles which
can only be cured by shame and mortification; and whether or not yours be
of that species, I shall have the comfort to think my best endeavours
were used for your reformation.

Know then, I can despise your pride, while I honour your integrity, and
applaud your taste, while I am shocked at your ostentation.--I have known
you trifling, superficial, and obstinate in dispute; meanly jealous and
awkwardly reserved; rash and haughty in your resentments; and coarse and
lowly in your connexions. I have blushed at the weakness of your
conversation, and trembled at the errors of your conduct--yet, as I own
you possess certain good qualities, which overbalance these defects, and