don the levity of the Allusion. You were my Apollo, my Helicon, and my Muses; that Ocean of true Wit and good Sense from which the Drill, as to all that's tolerable in it, derives itself, and into which it as naturally returns, 'though at the expence of its Acrimony in the Circulation.
But hold! 'tis high time to enter upon the main Business of an Epistle Dedicatory, the Patron's Apotheosis. And what now must I extol? Your Integrity, Constancy and Courage? Alas! 'tis a long time ago since these pass'd for recommendatory Qualities; nay of very dangerous Consequence might it prove to us Both, at this time o' Day, should I blurt out a Syllable in favour of 'em. Your Letters then, your Judgment, your Wit, your Prudence? That were as much as to say all the World did not already admire 'em, ever excepting my Brother C———; and I verily believe too, even he, cou'd the Man have as good an Opinion of any Body as of himself, wou'd entertain it of you.
How then shall I manage my Address? Assume the modish Figure call'd Apophasis or Whispering aloud, and run you a long Division upon your several Excellencies with a Not to mention 'em? Or shall I tell you that your Modesty being a Nusance to the rest of your Virtues, I had rather be wanting in my Duty to Them, than most inhumanely torture That? Nauseous, vile, pedantick Forms! and as prostituted Common-places as Panegyrick itself! What remains therefore but the liberty of making this brief, bare, and simple, yet candid Profession, that I am,
Honour'd SIR,
Most sincerely and most humbly
Your Servant, as oblig'd,
S. Parker.
