When I send you this volume, I am rather to make you a request than
a Dedication. I must desire, that if you think fit to throw away any
moments on it, you would not do it after reading those excellent pieces
with which you are usually conversant. The images which you will meet
with here, will be very faint, after the perusal of the Greeks and
Romans, who are your ordinary companions. I must confess I am obliged
to you for the taste of many of their excellences, which I had not
observed until you pointed them to me. I am very proud that there are
some things in these papers which I know you pardon;[2] and it is no
small pleasure to have one's labours suffered by the judgment of a man,
who so well understands the true charms of eloquence and poesy. But I
direct this address to you, not that I think I can entertain you with
my writings, but to thank you for the new delight I have, from your
conversation, in those of other men.
May you enjoy a long continuance of the true relish of the happiness
Heaven has bestowed upon you. I know not how to say a more affectionate
thing to you, than to wish that you may be always what you are; and
that you may ever think, as I know you now do, that you have a much
larger fortune than you want.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient, and most humble Servant,
ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.