Another;
The tax upon paper does not lessen the number of scribblers, who daily pester, &c.
Another;
When every little wouid-be-wit takes pen in hand, 'tis in vain to enter the lists, &c.
Another;
To observe what trash the press swarms with, &c.
Another;
Sir, It is merely in obedience to your commands, that I venture into the publick; for who upon a less consideration would be of a party with such a rabble of scribblers, &c.
Now, I have two words in my own defence against this objection. First, I am far from granting the number of writers a nuisance to our nation, having strenuously maintained the contrary, in several parts of the following discourse. Secondly, I do not well understand the justice of this proceeding; because I observe many of these polite prefaces to be not only from the same hand, but from those, who are most voluminous in their several productions. Upon which, I shall tell the reader a short tale.
A mountebank, in Leicester-Fields, had drawn a huge assembly about him. Among the rest, a fat unwieldy fellow, half stifled in the press, would be every fit crying out. Lord! what a filthy crowd is here! pray, good people, give way a little. Bless me! what a devil has raked this rabble together: z——ds, what squeezing is this! honest friend, remove your elbow. At last a weaver, that stood next him, could hold no longer. A plague con-
