University of Virginia Library

THE PUBLISHER, TO THE Candid Reader.

As those who write in rhyme, still make
The one verse for the other's sake;
For, one for sense, and one for rhyme,
They think sufficient at one time;
But writing without rhyme or reason,
Is, 'gainst the state of learning, treason;
So here you'll find our good old Mother,
For one tale's sake oft makes another;
In holding forth, it no abuse is
To make the preachment for the uses,
And no geometer miscarries,
In proving truths for corollaries.
We know that what is first intended,
Is always last in being ended.
No man of candour will abuse her,
And this to criticks will excuse her,
Whether you hate her tales, or love them,
Condemn them rashly, or approve them,
Yea, whether they shall sink or swim,
'Tis much the same to Mother Grim.
The carlin now is at her rest,
Beyond the reach of taunt or jest:
She bid me (when alive) assure you,
It was to please, not to injure you,
These tales were told; and well she knew,
When first she told them, they were true,
And now concern no man alive,
Or may (said Grim) I never thrive;
The persons all are dead and gone,
But what has been may still be done,
There's nothing new beneath the sun.