gyric, how reasonable will your fears of me appear! Yet surely you might have gratified my ambition, from this single confidence, that I shall always prefer the indulgence of your inclinations. to the satisfaction of my own. A very strong instance of which I shall give you in this address; in which I am determined to follow the example of all other dedicators, and will consider not what my patron really deserves to have written, but what he will be best pleased to read, Without further preface, then, I here present you with the labours of some years of my life. What merit these labours have is already known to yourself. If from your favourable judgement I have conceived some esteem for them, it cannot be imputed to vanity; since I should have agreed as implicitly to your opinion, had it been given in favour of any other man's production. Negatively, at least, I may be allowed to say, that, had I been sensible of any great demerit in the work, you are the last person to whose protection I would have ventured to recommend it. From the name of my patron, indeed, I hope my reader will be convinced, at his very entrance on this work, that he will find in the whole course of it nothing prejudicial to the cause of religion and virtue; nothing inconsistent with the strictest rules of decency, nor which can offend even the chastest eye in the perusal. On the contrary, I declare, that to recommend goodness and innocence hath been my sincere endeaYour in this history. This honest purpose you have been pleased to think I have attained: and to say the truth, it is likeliest to be attained in books of this kind; for an example is a kind of picture, in which Virtue becomes as it were an object of sight, and strikes us with an idea of that loveliness which Plato asserts there is in her naked charms. Besides displaying that beauty of Virtue which may attract the admiration of mankind, I have attempted to engage a stronger motive to human action in her favour, by convincing men that their true interest directs them to a pursuit of her. For this purpose I have shown, that no acqui-. sitions of guilt can compensate the loss of that solid inward comfort of mind, which is the sure companion of innocence and virtue; nor can in the least balance the evil of that horror and anxiety, which, in their room, guilt introduces into our bosoms. And again, that as these acquisitions are in themselves generally worthless, so are the means to attain them not only base and infamous, but at best incertain, and always full of danger. Lastly, I have endeavoured strongly to inculcate, that virtue and innocence can scarce ever be injured but by indiscretion; and that it is this alone which often betrays them into the snares that deceit and villany spread for them. A moral which I have the more industriously laboured, as the teaching it is, of all others, the likeliest to be attended with success: since, I believe, it is much easier to make good men wise, than to make bad men good. For these purposes I have employed all the wit and humour of which I am master in the following history; wherein I have endeavoured to laugh mankind out of their favourite follies and vices. How far I have succeeded in this good attempt, I shall submit to the candid reader, with only two requests: first, that he will not expect to find perfection in this work; and, secondly, that he will excuse some parts of it, if they fall short of that little merit which I hope may appear in others. I will detain you, sir, no longer. Indeed I have run into a preface, while I professed to write a dedication. But how can it be otherwise? I dare not praise you; and the only means I know of to avoid it when you are in my thoughts, are either to be entirely silent, or to turn my thoughts to some other subject. Pardon, therefore, what I have said in this epistle, not only without your consent, but absolutely against it; and give me at least leave, in this public manner, to declare, that I am, with the highest respect and gratitude, Sir, Your most obliged, obedient humble servant, HENRY FIELDING. CONTENTS Containing as much of the birth of the Foundling as is necessary or proper to acquaint the reader with in the beginning of this history. CHAP. I. The introduction to the work, or bill of fare CHAP. II. A short description of squire Allworthy, CHAP. III. An odd accident which befel Mr. All- worthy, at his return home. The decent behaviour by a description; his escape; and the great con- descension of miss Bridget Allworthy, CHAP. V. Containing a few common matters, with a very uncommon observation upon them, CHAP. VI. Mrs. Deborah is introduced into the pa- rish with a simile. A short account of Jenny Jones, CHAP. VII. Containing such grave matter, that_the reader cannot laugh once through the whole chap- ter, unless peradventure he should laugh at the au- CHAP. VIII. A dialogue between mesdames Bridget and Deborah; containing more amusement, but less CHAP. X. The hospitality of Allworthy; with a short sketch of the characters of two brothers, a doctor and a captain, who were entertained by that gen- CHAP. XI. Containing many rules, and some ex- amples, concerning falling in love: descriptions of beauty, and other more prudential inducements to CHAP. XII. Containing what the reader may per- CHAP. XIII. Which concludes the first book; with Containing scenes of matrimonial felicity in different degrees of life; and various other transactions du- ring the first two years after the marriage between captain Blifil and miss Bridget Allworthy. CHAP. I. Showing what kind of a history this is; what it is like, and what it is not like, CHAP. II. Religious cautions against showing too much favour to bastards; and a great discovery CHAP. III. The description of a domestic govern- |