Now though it is the desire of all Writers to purchase to themselves immortal Fame, yet is their Fate far different; some deserve Fame, and have it; others neither have it, nor deserve it; some have it not deserving, and others, though deserving, yet totally miss it, or have it not equall to their Deserts: Thus have I known a well writ Poem, after a double expence of Brain to bring it forth, and of Purse to publish it to the World, condemned to the Drudgery of the _Chandler_ or _Oyl-man_, or, which is worse, to light _Tobacco_. I have read in Dr. _Fuller's Englands Worthies_, that Mr. _Nathanael Carpenter_, that great Scholar for _Logick_, the _Mathematicks, Geography_, and _Divinity_, setting forth a Book of _Opticks_, he found, to his great grief, the Preface thereof in his Printers House, _Casing Christmas-Pies_, and could never after from his scattered Notes recover an Original thereof; thus (saith he) _Pearls_ are no _Pearls_, when _Cocks_ or _Coxcombs_ find them. There are two things which very much discourage Wit; ignorant Readers, and want of _Mecaenasses_ to encourage their Endeavours. For the first, I have read of an eminent Poet, who passing by a company of Bricklayers at work, who were repeating some of his Verses, but in such a manner as quite marred the Sence and Meaning of them; he snatching up a Hammer, fell to breaking their Bricks; and being demanded the reason thereof, he told them, that _they spoiled his Work, and he spoiled theirs_. And for the second; what greater encouragement to Ingenuity than Liberality? Hear what the Poet _Martial_ saith, _Lib. 10. Epig. 11._ _What deathless numbers from my Pen would flow, What Wars would my_ Pierian _Trumpet blow, If, as_ Augustus _now again did live, So_ Rome _to me would a_ Mecaenas _give._ The ingenious Mr. _Oldham_, the glory of our late Age, in one of his Satyrs, makes the renowned _Spenser_'s Ghost thus speak to him, disswading him from the Study of Poetry. _Chuse some old_ English _Hero for thy Theme, Bold_ Arthur, _or great_ Edward_'s greater Son, Or our fifth_ Henry, _matchless to renown; Make_ Agin-Court, _and_ Crescy_-fields out-vie The fam'd_ Laucinan_-shores, and walls of_ Troy; _What_ Scipio, _what_ Maecenas _wouldst thou find; What_ Sidney _now to thy great project kind?_ Bless me! how great a _Genius_! how each Line Is big with Sense! how glorious a design Does through the whole, and each proportion shine! How lofty all his Thoughts, and how inspir'd! Pity, such wondrous Parts are not preferr'd: _Cry a gay wealthy Sot, who would not bail, For bare Five Pounds the Author out of Jail, Should he starve there and rot; who, if a Brief Came out the needy Poets to relieve, To the whole Tribe would scarce a Tester give._ But some will say, it is not so much the _Patrons_ as the _Poets_ fault, whose wide Mouths speak nothing but Bladders and Bumbast, treating only of trifles, the Muses Haberdashers of small wares.