' To this work the bookseller
positively demurred. 'Well meant,' he said, 'and learned, doubtless; but
the time had gone by. Printed on small-pica it would run to eight hundred
pages, and could never pay. Begged therefore to be excused. Loved and
honoured the true church from his soul, and, had it been a sermon on the
martyrdom, or any twelve-penny touch--why, I would venture something for
the honour of the cloth. But come, let's see the other. "Right Hereditary
righted!"--Ah! there's some sense in this. Hum--hum--hum--pages so many,
paper so much, letter-press--Ah--I'll tell you, though, Doctor, you must
knock out some of the Latin and Greek; heavy, Doctor, damn'd heavy--(beg
your pardon) and if you throw in a few grains more pepper--I am he that
never preached my author. I have published for Drake and Charlwood
Lawton, and poor Amhurst [Footnote: See Note 4.]--Ah, Caleb! Caleb! Well,
it was a shame to let poor Caleb starve, and so many fat rectors and
squires among us. I gave him a dinner once a week; but, Lord love you,
what's once a week, when a man does not know where to go the other six
days? Well, but I must show the manuscript to little Tom Alibi the
solicitor, who manages all my law affairs--must keep on the windy side;
the mob were very uncivil the last time I mounted in Old Palace Yard--all
Whigs and Roundheads every man of them, Williamites and Hanover rats.
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