fall from them, by which censorious fools judge as ill of them as possibly they can, for their own comfort and indeed, when such unguarded and trifling jeux d'esprit have once got abroad, all that prudence or repentance can do, since they cannot be denied, is to put them fairly upon that foot; and teach the public (as we have done in the preface to the four volumes of Miscellanies,) to distinguish betwixt our studies and our idlenesses, our works and our weaknesses. That was the whole end of the last volume of Miscellanies, without which our former declaration in that preface, "That these volumes contained all that we have ever offended in, that way," would have been discredited. It went indeed to my heart to omit what you called the libel on Dr. Delany, and the best panegyric on myself, that either my own times or any other could have afforded, or will ever afford to me. The book, as you observe, was printed in great haste; the cause whereof was, that the booksellers were doing the same, in collecting your pieces, the corn with the chaff; I do not mean that anything of yours is chaff, but with other wit of Ireland which was so, and the whole in your name. I meant principally to oblige them to separate what you writ seriously from what you writ carelessly; and thought my own weeds might pass for a sort of wild flowers, when bundled up with them.

It was I that sent you those books into Ireland, and so I did my epistle to Lord Bathurst, even before it was published, and another thing of mine, which is a parody from Horace,* writ in two mornings. I never took more care in my life of anything than of the former of these, nor less than of the latter; yet every friend has forced me to print it, though in truth my own single motive was about

twenty lines toward the latter end, which you will find out.

I have declined opening to you by letters the whole scheme of my present work, expecting still to do it in a better manner in person; but you will see pretty soon, that the letter to Lord Bathurst* is a part of it, and you will find a plain connection between them, if you read them in the order just contrary to that they were published in. I imitate those cunning tradesmen, who shew their best silks last; or, (to give you a truer idea, though it sounds too proudly,) my works will in one respect be like the works of nature, much more to be liked and understood when considered in the relation they bear with each other, than when ignorantly looked upon one by one; and often, those parts which attract most at first sight will appear to be not the most, but the least considerable.

I am pleased and flattered by your expression of orna me. The chief pleasure this work can give me is, that I can in it, with propriety, decency, and justice, insert the name and character of every friend I have, and every man that deserves to be loved or adorned. But I smile at your applying that phrase to my visiting you in Ireland; a place where I might have some apprehension (from their extraordinary passion for poetry, and their boundless hospitality) of being adorned to death, and buried under the weight of garlands, like one I have read of somewhere or other. My mother lives, (which is an answer to that point,) and, I thank God, though her memory be in a manner gone, is yet awake and sensible to me, though scarce to anything else; which doubles the reason of my attendance, and at the same

* He himself, we see, calls this piece a letter, not a dialogue, as it was afterwards entitled.-Dr. WARTON.

time sweetens it. I wish (beyond any other wish) you could pass a summer here; I might (too probably) return with you, unless you preferred to see France first, to which country I think you would have a strong invitation.* Lord Peterborow has narrowly escaped death, and yet keeps his chamber; he is perpetually speaking in the most affectionate manner of you: he has written you two letters which you never received, and by that has been discouraged from writing more. I can well believe the post-office may do this, when some letters of his to me have met the same fate, and two of mine to him. Yet let not this discourage you from writing to me, or to him, inclosed in the common way, as I do to you; innocent men need fear no detection of their thoughts; and for my part, I would give them free leave to send all I write to Curll, if most of what I write was not too silly.

I

I desire my sincere services to Dr. Delany, who, agree with you, is a man every way esteemable; my Lord Orrery is a most virtuous and good-natured nobleman, whom I should be happy to know. Lord B. received your letter through my hands; it is not to be told you how much he wishes for you; the whole list of persons to whom you sent your services return you theirs, with proper sense of the distinction. Your lady friend is semper eadem, and I have written an epistle to her, on that qualification in a female character; † which is thought by my chief critic, in your absence, to be my chef d'œuvre; but it cannot be printed perfectly, in an age so sore of satire, and so willing to misapply characters.

* From Bolingbroke.

The Epistle on the "Characters of Women," addressed to Martha Blount. In the first edition he asserted, "upon his honour," that no character was taken from life.-BOWLES.

VOL. XVIII.

F

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As to my own health, it is as good as usual. have lain ill seven days of a slight fever, (the complaint here,) but recovered by gentle sweats, and the care of Dr. Arbuthnot. The play Mr. Gay left succeeds very well; it is another original in its kind. Adieu. God preserve your life, your health, your limbs, your spirits, and your friendships!

FROM THE DUCHESS OF QUEENS

SIR,

BERRY.

February 21, 1732-3.

SOON after the death of our friend Mr. Gay, I found myself more inclined to write to you, than to allow myself any other entertainment. But, considering that might draw you into a correspondence, that most likely might be disagreeable, I left off all thoughts of this kind, till Mr. Pope shewed me your letter to him, which encourages me to hope we may converse together as usual; by which advantage I will not despair to obtain in reality some of those good qualities, you say, I seem to have. I am conscious of only one, that is, being an apt scholar; and if I have any good in me, I certainly learned it insensibly of our poor friend, as children do any strange language. It is not possible to imagine the loss his death is to me; but as long as I have any memory, the happiness of ever having such a friend can never be lost to me.

As to himself, he knew the world too well to regret leaving it; and the world in general knew him too little to value him as they ought. I think it my

duty to my friend, to do him the justice to assure you, he had a most perfect and sincere regard for you. I have learned a good deal of his way of thinking on your account; so that, if at any time you have any commands in this part of the world, you will do me a pleasure to employ me, as you would him : and I shall wish it could ever be in my power to serve you in anything essential. The Duke of Queensberry meant to write, if I had not, concerning your money affair. We both thought of it, as soon as we could of anything; and if you will only write word what you would have done with your money, great care shall be taken according to your order. I differ with you extremely, that you are in any likelihood of dying poor or friendless: the world can never grow so worthless. I again differ with you, that it is possible to comfort one's self for the loss of friends, as one does upon the loss of money. I think I could live on very little, nor think myself poor, or be thought so; but a little friendship could never satisfy me; and I could never expect to find such another support as my poor friend. In almost everything, but friends, another of the same name may do as well; but friend is more than a name, if it be anything.

Your letter touched me extremely; it gave me a melancholy pleasure. I felt much more than you wrote, and more than, I hope, you will continue to feel. As you can give Mr. Pope good advice, pray practise it yourself. As you cannot lengthen your friend's days, I must beg you, in your own words, not to shorten your own: for I do full well know by experience, that health and happiness depend on good spirits. Mr. Pope is better in both this year, than I have seen him a good while. This you will believe, unless he has told you what he tells me, that I am his greatest flatterer. I hope that news has