TO GEORGE GREENVIEL, ESQ;
Sir,
At this Critical Juncture, I find the Authors will have need of a
Protector, as well as the Nation, we having peculiar Laws and Liberties
to be defended as well as that, but of how different a Nature, none but
such Judges as you are fit to determine; whatever our Province be, I am
sure it should be Wit, and you know what Ellevated _Ben_ says, _That
none can judge of Wit but Wit._ Let the _Heroes_ toyl for Crowns and
Kingdoms and with what pretences they please. Let the Slaves of State
drudge on for false and empty Glories, troubling the repose of the World
and ruining their own to gain uneasy Grandure, whilst you, oh! happyer
Sir, great enough by your Birth, yet more Illustrious by your Wit, are
capable of enjoying alone that true Felicity of Mind, which belongs to
an absolutely Vertuous and Gallant Man, by that, and the lively Notions
of Honour Imprinted in your Soul, you are above Ambition, and can Form
_Kings_ and _Heroes_, when ’ere your delicate Fancy shall put you upon
the Poetical Creation.
You can make those _Heroes_ Lovers too, and inspire ’em with a Language
so Irresistable as may instruct the Fair, how easily you may Conquer
when it comes to your turn, to plead for a Heart, nor is your delicate
Wit the only Charm; your Person claims an equal share of Graces with
those of your Mind, and both together are capable of rendering you
Victorious, whereever you shall please to Address ’em, but your Vertue
keeps you from those Ravages of Beauty, which so wholly imploy the hours
of the Rest of the Gay and Young, whilst you have business more sollid,
and more noble for yours.
I would not by this have the World imagine you are therefore exempt from
the tenderness of Love, it rather seems you were on purpose form’d for
that Soft Entertainment, such an Agreement there is between the Harmony
of your Soul and your Person, and sure the _Muses_ who have so divinely
inspir’d you with Poetic Fires, have furnisht you with that Necessary
Material (Love) to maintain it, and to make it burn with the more
Ellevated Flame.
’Tis therefore, Sir, I expect you will the more easily Pardon the
Dedicating to your idler hours (if any such you have) this little Amour,
all that I shall say for it, is, that ’tis not Translation but an
Original, that has more of realty than fiction, if I have not made it
fuller of intreague, ’twas because I had a mind to keep close to the
Truth.
I must own, Sir, the Obligations I have to you, deserves a greater
testimony of my respect, than this little piece, too trivial to bear the
honour of your Name, but my increasing Indisposition makes me fear I
shall not have many opportunities of this Kind, and shou’d be loath to
leave this ungrateful World, without acknowledging my Gratitude more
signally than barely by word of Mouth, and without wishing you all the
happiness your merit and admirable Vertues deserve and of assuring you
how unfeignedly I am (and how Proud of being) Sir,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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