For instance, now--this book--the Ghost-- Methinks I hear some critic Post Remark most gravely--'The first word Which we about the Ghost have heard.' 780 Peace, my good sir!--not quite so fast-- What is the first, may be the last, Which is a point, all must agree, Cannot depend on you or me. Fanny, no ghost of common mould, Is not by forms to be controll'd; To keep her state, and show her skill, She never comes but when she will. I wrote and wrote, (perhaps you doubt, And shrewdly, what I wrote about; 790 Believe me, much to my disgrace, I, too, am in the self-same case;) But still I wrote, till Fanny came Impatient, nor could any shame On me with equal justice fall If she had never come at all. An underling, I could not stir Without the cue thrown out by her, Nor from the subject aid receive Until she came and gave me leave. 800 So that, (ye sons of Erudition Mark, this is but a supposition, Nor would I to so wise a nation Suggest it as a revelation) If henceforth, dully turning o'er Page after page, ye read no more Of Fanny, who, in sea or air, May be departed God knows where, Rail at jilt Fortune; but agree No censure can be laid on me; 810 For sure (the cause let Mansfield try) Fanny is in the fault, not I. But, to return--and this I hold A secret worth its weight in gold To those who write, as I write now, Not to mind where they go, or how, Through ditch, through bog, o'er hedge and stile, Make it but worth the reader's while, And keep a passage fair and plain Always to bring him back again. 820 Through dirt, who scruples to approach, At Pleasure's call, to take a coach? But we should think the man a clown, Who in the dirt should set us down. But to return--if Wit, who ne'er The shackles of restraint could bear, In wayward humour should refuse Her timely succour to the Muse, And, to no rules and orders tied, Roughly deny to be her guide, 830 She must renounce Decorum's plan, And get back when, and how she can; As parsons, who, without pretext, As soon as mention'd, quit their text, And, to promote sleep's genial power, Grope in the dark for half an hour, Give no more reason (for we know Reason is vulgar, mean, and low) Why they come back (should it befall That ever they come back at all) 840 Into the road, to end their rout, Than they can give why they went out. But to return--this book--the Ghost-- A mere amusement at the most; A trifle, fit to wear away The horrors of a rainy day; A slight shot-silk, for summer wear, Just as our modern statesmen are, If rigid honesty permit That I for once purloin the wit 850 Of him, who, were we all to steal, Is much too rich the theft to feel: Yet in this book, where Base should join With Mirth to sugar every line;