grotesque, and that we should draw a picture half woman half fish. These are the general motives the Author has had in view. We might still quote special motives and vindicate each point; but we must needs leave something to the capacity and leniency of our readers. They will be satisfied, then, with the motives we have mentioned. We would have stated them more clearly and have set more by them, had the general compass of a Preface so allowed. FRIAR PHILIP'S GEESE IF these gay tales give pleasure to the FAIR, The honour's great conferred, I'm well aware; Yet, why suppose the sex my pages shun? Enough, if they condemn where follies run; Laugh in their sleeve at tricks they disapprove, And, false or true, a muscle never move. A playful jest can scarcely give offence: Who knows too much, oft shows a want of sense. From flatt'ry oft more dire effects arise, Enflame the heart and take it by surprise; Ye beauteous belles, beware each sighing swain, Discard his vows:--my book with care retain; Your safety then I'll guarantee at ease.-- But why dismiss?--their wishes are to please: And, truly, no necessity appears For solitude:--consider well your years. I HAVE, and feel convinced they do you wrong, Who think no virtue can to such belong; White crows and phoenixes do not abound; But lucky lovers still are sometimes found; And though, as these famed birds, not quite so rare, The numbers are not great that favours share; I own my works a diff'rent sense express, But these are tales:--mere tales in easy dress. To beauty's wiles, in ev'ry class, I've bowed; Fawned, flattered, sighed, e'en constancy have vowed What gained? you ask--but little I admit; Howe'er we aim, too oft we fail to hit. My latter days I'll now devote with care, To guard the sex from ev'ry latent snare. Tales I'll detail, and these relate at ease: Narrations clear and neat will always please; Like me, to this attention criticks pay; Then sleep, on either side, from night till day. If awkward, vulgar phrase intervene, Or rhymes imperfect o'er the page be seen, Condemn at will; but stratagems and art, Pass, shut your eyes, who'd heed the idle part? Some mothers, husbands, may perhaps be led, To pull my locks for stories white or red; So matters stand: a fine affair, no doubt, And what I've failed to do--my book makes out.