displeased at it who are not able to follow it: and it is to be feared
that esteem will seldom do any man so much good as ill-will does him
harm. Then there is a third class of people, who make the largest part
of mankind, those of ordinary or indifferent capacities; and these (to a
man) will hate, or suspect him: a hundred honest gentlemen will dread
him as a wit, and a hundred innocent women as a satirist. In a word,
whatever be his fate in poetry, it is ten to one but he must give up all
the reasonable aims of life for it. There are indeed some advantages
accruing from a genius to poetry, and they are all I can think of: the
agreeable power of self-amusement when a man is idle or alone; the
privilege of being admitted into the best company; and the freedom of
saying as many careless things as other people, without being so
severely remarked upon.

I believe, if any one, early in his life, should contemplate the
dangerous fate of authors, he would scarce be of their number on any
consideration. The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth; and the
present spirit of the learned world is such, that to attempt to serve it
(any way) one must have the constancy of a martyr, and a resolution to
suffer for its sake. I could wish people would believe, what I am pretty
certain they will not, that I have been much less concerned about fame
than I durst declare till this occasion, when methinks I should find
more credit than I could heretofore: since my writings have had their
fate already, and it is too late to think of prepossessing the reader in
their favour. I would plead it as some merit in me, that the world has
never been prepared for these trifles by prefaces, biased by
recommendations, dazzled with the names of great patrons, wheedled with
fine reasons and pretences, or troubled with excuses. I confess it was
want of consideration that made me an author; I writ because it amused
me; I corrected because it was as pleasant to me to correct as to write;