I would not have it printed for the world, and yet I would not have it kept unprinted neither but all in good time. I'm glad you publish your Milton. B-ly will be angry at you, and at me too fhortly for what I could not help, a Satyrical Poem on Verbal Criticifin by Mr. Mallet, which he has infcribed to me, but the poem itself is good (another cause of anger to any Critic.) As for myself, I refòlve to go on in my quiet, calın, moral courfe, taking no fort of notice of man's anger, or woman's fcandal, with Virtue in my eyes, and Truth upon my tongue. Adieu.

Y

LETTER XLV.

To Mr. BETHEL.

Aug. 9, 1733

OU might well think me negligent or forgetful of you, if true friendship and fincere esteem were to be measured by common forms and compliments. The truth is, I could not write then, without faying fomething of my own condition, and of my lofs of fo old and fo deferving a parent, which really would have troubled you; or I must have kept a filence upon that head, which would not have fuited that freedom and fincere opening of the heart which is due to you from me. I am now pretty well; but my home is uneafy to me still, and I am therefore wandering about all this fummer. I was but four days at Twickenham fince the occation that made it so melancholy. I have been a fortnight in Effex, and am now at Dawley (whose master is your

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fervant) and going to Cirencester to Lord Bathurst. I fhall also see Southampton with Lord Peterborow. The Court and Twit'nam I fhall forfake together. I wish I' did not leave our friend 32, who deferves more quiet, and more health and happiness, than can be found in fuch a family. The rest of my acquaintance are tolerably happy in their various ways of life, whether court, country, or town; and Mr. Cleland is as well in the Park, as if he were in Paradise. I heartily hope, Yorkshire is the fame to you; and that no evil, moral or phy fical, inay come near you.

I have now but too much melancholy leisure, and no other care but to finish my Effay on Man: There will be in it one line that may offend you (I fear) and yet I will not alter or omit it, unless you come to town and prevent me before I print it, which will be in a fortnight in all probability. In plain truth, I will not deny myself the greatest pleasure I am capable of receiving, because another may have the modefty not to share it. It is all a poor poet can do, to bear teftimony to the virtue he cannot reach: befides, that, in this age, I fee too few good Examples not to lay hold on any I can find. You fee what an interested man I am. Adieu.

32 Mrs. B.

LETTER XLVI.

To

33.

Sept. 7, 1733.

You

cannot think how melancholy this place makes me; every part of this wood puts into my mind poor Mr. Gay, with whom I past once a great deal of pleasant time in it, and another friend who is near dead, and quite loft to us, Dr. Swift. I really can find no enjoyment in the place; the fame fort of uneafinefs as I find at Twit'nam, whenever I pafs near my Mother's

room.

I've not yet writ to Mrs. *. I think I fhould, but have nothing to fay that will answer the character they confider me in, as a Wit; befides, my eyes grow very bad (whatever is the cause of it) I'll put them out for no body but a friend; and, I protest, it brings tears into them almoft to write to you, when I think of your state and mine. I long to write to Swift, but cannot. The greatest pain I know, is to say things fo very fhort of one's meaning, when the heart is full.

I feel the going out of life faft enough, to have little appetite left to make compliments, at best useless, and for the most part unfelt, fpeeches. 'Tis but in a very narrow circle that Friendship walks in this world, and I care not to tread out of it more than I needs muft; knowing well, it is but to two or three (if quite fo many) that any man's welfare, or memory, can be of

confequence: The reft, I believe, I may forget, and be pretty certain they are already even, if not beforehand with me.

Life, after the first warm heats are over, is all down-hill and one almost wishes the journey's end,

:

provided we were fure but to lie down easy, whenever the Night fhall overtake us.

She has dwelt (a

I dream'd all last night of. little more than perhaps is right) upon my fpirits: I faw a very deserving gentleman in my travels, who has formerly, I have heard, had much the fame misfortune; and (with all his good breeding and fenfe) ftill bears a cloud and melancholy caft, that never can quite clear up, in all his behaviour and converfation. I know another, who, I believe, could promife, and eafily keep his word, never to laugh in his life. But one must do one's beft, not to be used by the world as that poor lady was by her fifter; and not seem too good, for fear of being thought affected, or whimsical.

It is a real truth, that to the last of my moments, the thought of you, and the best of my wishes for you, will attend you, told or untold: I could wish you had once the conftancy and resolution to act for yourself, whether before, or after I leave you (the only way I ever fhall leave you) you must determine; but reflect; the firft would make me, as well as yourfelf happier; the latter could make you only fo. Adieu.

LETTER XLVII.

b. From Dr.

ARBUTHNOT.

Hampstead, July 17, 1734.

Little doubt of your kind concern for me, nor of

I that of the Lady you mention. I have nothing to

repay my friends with at prefent, but prayers and good wifhes. I have the fatisfaction to find that I am as officioufly ferv'd by my friends, as he that has thoufands to leave in legacies; befides the affurance of their fincerity. God almighty has made my bodily diftrefs as easy as a thing of that nature can be. I have found.foine relief, at leaft fometimes, from the air of this place. My nights are bad, but many poor creatures have worse.

As for you, my good friend, I think fince our first acquaintance there have not been any of those little fufpicions or jealoufies that often affect the fincereft friendships; I am fure, not on my fide. I must be fo fincere as to own, that though I could not help valuing you for thofe Talents which the world prizes; yet they were not the foundation of my friendships; they were quite of another fort; nor fhall I at present offend you by enumerating them: And I make it my Laft Request, that you will continue that Noble Disdain and Abhorrence of Vice, which you seem naturally endued with; but ftill with a due regard to your own safety; and study more to reform than chastise, tho' the one cannot be effected without the other.