POPE charges himself with this letter: he has been here two days, he is now hurrying to London, he will hurry back to Twickenham in two days more, and before the end of the week he will be, for aught I know, at Dublin. In the mean time his Dulness grows and flourishes as if he was there already. It will indeed be a noble work: the many will stare at it, the few will smile, and all his patrons, from Bickerstaff to Gulliver, will rejoice to see themselves adorned in that immortal piece.

I hear that you have had some return of your illness, which carried you so suddenly from us, if indeed it was your own illness which made you in such haste to be at Dublin. Dear Swift, take care of your health, I will give you a receipt for it, à la Montaigne, or, which is better, à la Bruyere. "Nourisser bien votre corps; ne le fatiguer jamais: * laisser rouiller l'esprit, meuble inutil, voire outil dangereux: Laisser sonner vos cloches le matin pour éveiller les chanoines, et pour faire dormir le doyen d'un sommeil doux et profond, qui lui procure de beaux songes: lever vous tard, et aller à l'eglise, pour vous faire payer d avoir bien dormi et bien déjeûnè."

As to myself (a person about whom I concern

*The whole of this pleasant receipt is taken from the Lutrin of Boileau.-WARTON.

myself very little) I must say a word or two out of complaisance to you. I am in my farm, and here I shoot strong and tenacious roots: I have caught hold of the earth (to use a gardener's phrase) and neither my enemies nor my friends will find it an easy matter to transplant me again. Adieu, let me hear from you, at least of you: I love you for a thousand things, for none more than for the just esteem and love which you have for all the sons of Adam.

P. S. According to Lord Bolingbroke's account I shall be at Dublin in three days. I cannot help adding a word, to desire you to expect my soul there with you by that time; but as for the jade of a body that is tacked to it, I fear there will be no dragging it after. I assure you I have few friends here to detain me, and no powerful one at court absolutely to forbid my journey. I am told the gynocracy are of opinion, that they want no better writers than Cibber, and the British Journalist; † so that we may live at quiet, and apply ourselves to our more abstruse studies. The only courtiers I know, or have the honour to call my friends, are John Gay and Mr Bowry; the former is at present so employed in the elevated airs of his opera, and the latter in the exaltation of his high dignity (that of her majesty's waterman), that I can scarce obtain a categorical answer from either to any thing

The petticoat government; perhaps alluding to Queen Caroline and Mrs Howard.

+ William Arnall, bred an attorney. It appears from the Report of the Secret Committee in the year 1742, for inquiring into the conduct of Sir Robert Walpole, that Arnall received for Free Britons, and other writings, in the space of four years, not less than 10,9971. 6s. 8d. out of the treasury.-WARBURTON.

I say to them. But the opera* succeeds extremely, to yours and my extreme satisfaction, of which he promises this post to give you a full account. I have been in a worse condition of health than ever, and think my immortality is very near out of my enjoyment: so it must be in you, and in posterity, to make me what amends you can for dying young. Adieu. While I am, I am yours. Pray love me, and take care of yourself.

DEAR SIR,

FROM MR GAY.

Whitehall, Feb. 15, 1727-8.

I HAVE deferred writing to you from time to time, till I could give you an account of the Beggar's Opera. It is acted at the playhouse in Lincoln's Inn Fields with such success, that the playhouse has been crowded every night. To-night is the fifteenth time of acting, and it is thought it will run a fortnight longer. I have ordered Motte † to send the play to you the first opportunity. I made no interest either for approbation or money: nor has anybody been pressed to take tickets for my benefit: notwithstanding which, I think I shall make an addition to my fortune of between six and seven hundred pounds. I know this account will give you pleasure, as I have pushed through this precarious affair without servility or flattery.

* The Beggar's Opera.

+ Benjamin Motte, the bookseller.-B.

As to any favours from great men, I am in the same state you left me; but I am a great deal happier, as I have expectations. The Duchess of Queensberry has signalized her friendship to me upon this occasion in such a conspicuous manner, that I hope (for her sake) you will take care to put your fork to all its proper uses, and suffer nobody for the future to put their knives in their mouths. Lord Cobham says, that I should have printed it in Italian over against the English, that the ladies might have understood what they read. The outlandish (as they now call it) opera has been so thin of late, that some have called that the Beggar's Opera; and if the run continues, I fear I shall have reinonstrances drawn up against me by the royal academy of music. As none of us have heard from you of late, every one of us are in concern about your health: I beg we may hear from you soon. By my constant attendance on this affair I have almost worried myself into an ill state of health; but I intend, in five or six days to go to our country seat at Twickenham for a little air. Mr Pope is very seldoin in town. Mrs Howard frequently asks after you, and desires her compliments to Mr you. George Arbuthnot, the doctor's brother, is married to Mrs Peggy Robinson.

I would write more, but as to-night is for my benefit, I am in a hurry to go out about business. I am, dear Sir,

Your most affectionate and obedient servant,

J. GAY.

This alludes to some jest between the Duchess and Swift, about his using his knife at table, when a fork would have been more appropriate. It is again hinted at in Gay's letter of 9th Nov. 1729.

TO MRS MARTHA BLOUNT. *

DEAR PATTY,

Dublin, Feb. 29, 1727-8.

I AM told you have a mind to receive a letter from me, which is a very undecent declaration in a young lady, and almost a confession that you have a mind to write to me; for as to the fancy of looking on me as a man sans consequence, it is what I will never understand. I am told likewise you grow every day younger, and more a fool, which is directly contrary to me, who grow wiser and older, and at this rate we shall never agree. I long to see you a London lady, where you are forced to wear whole clothes, and visit in a chair, for which you must starve next summer at Petersham, with a mantua out at the sides; and spunge once a-week at our house, without ever inviting us in a whole season to a cow-heel at home. I wish you would bring Mr Pope over with you when you come; but we will leave Mr Gay to his Beggars and his Operas till he is able to pay his club. How will you pass this summer for want of a squire to Ham-common and Walpole's Lodge; for as to Richmond Lodge and Marble-hill, they are abandoned as much as Sir Spencer Compton: and Mr Schabe's coach, that used to give you so many a set-down, is wheeled off to St James's. You must be forced to get a horse, and gallop with Mrs Jansen and Miss Bedier. Your greatest happiness is, that you are out of the

* The direction is simply, "To Patty Blount."-N.