But I please my self with the Reflection, that I have not mingled the least Spice of Malice in the Composition, as it relates to Criticism, and am so far from being vain and arrogant, that I frequently and sincerely declare, my chief Design was to excite some more capable Writer to do what I knew my self uncapable of; and if any such Person shall, by exposing my Errours, give the World a true Light, I will not only gratefully follow it, but rejoyce at it, and take hold or the Opportunity to have my Share of the Instruction, if it comes from clean Hands, and is not defil'd with ill Manners and ill Language: Such tutoring I shall despise, and it being very common for Authors to have as good an Opinion of themselves as of any Body else, I shall not think any Name of Authority enough to justify either Insolence or Scurrility. About 40 Years ago there was a Student at _Oxford_, who acquir'd a good Hand at a Fiddle; but, falling afterwards into Melancholy, he grew averse to Musick, and could not be prevail'd upon by his Friends to touch it: They had but one Way to excite him to it, and that was for some unskilful Hand to take his Violin and scrape upon it; he would then immediately snatch it away from him, and, in a Kind of Resentment, give it the utmost Elegance of Sound and Harmony. I freely own I had this Man's Example in my Head when I began this Essay, and should the Success be the same, the End of it is answer'd. I cannot close this Essay without taking Notice of the Perverseness of Men, who pretend to Wit and Judgement, towards one another: It appears mostly in Pretenders, and is very well markt by _Boileau_, in these two Verses translated by Mr. _Dennis_, and equal to the Original: _Thus one Fool lolls his Tongue out at another, And shakes his empty Noddle at his Brother._