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poor friend gave to the play-house the week before his death) to the utmost advantage for his relations; and proposes to do the fame with fome Fables he left finished.

There is nothing of late which I think of more than Mortality, and what you mention, of collecting the best monuments we can of our friends, their own images in their writings; (for those are the best, when their minds are fuch as Mr. Gay's was, and as yours is.) I am preparing also for my own, and have nothing fo much at heart, as to fhew the filly world that men of Wit, or even Poets, may be the most moral of mankind. A few loose things fometimes fall from them, by which cenforious fools judge as ill of them as poffibly they can, for their own comfort: and indeed, when fuch unguarded and trifling Jeux d'Esprit have once got abroad, all that prudence or repentance can do, fince they cannot be deny'd, is to put 'em fairly upon that foot; and teach the public (as we have done in the preface to the four volumes of Miscellanies) to diftinguish betwixt our ftudies and our idleneffes, our works and our weakneffes. 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 difcredited. It went indeed to my heart, to omit what you called the Libel on Dr. D, and the best Panegyric on myself, that either my own times

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times or any other could have afforded, or will ever afford to me. The book, as you obferve, was printed in great hafte; the cause whereof was, that the booksellers here were doing the fame, in collecting your pieces, the corn with the chaff; I don't mean that any thing of yours is chaff, but with other wit of Ireland which was fo, 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 pafs for a fort of wild flowers, when bundled up with them.

m

It was I that fent you those books into Ireland, and fo I did my Epiftle 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 any thing 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 fingle 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 prefent Work, expecting ftill to do it in a better manner in perfon: but you will fee pretty foon, that the letter to Lord Bathurft* is a part of it, and you will find a plain connexion between them, if you read them in the order just contrary to

m Sat. i. Lib. ii.

that

W.

*He himself, we fee, calls this piece a Letter, not a Dialogue, as it was afterwards entitled.

that they were published in. I imitate those cunning tradesmen, who shew their best filks last; or (to give you a truer idea, though it founds too proudly) my works will in one refpect be like the works of Nature, much more to be liked and understood when confidered 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 moft, but the leaft confiderable.

I am pleased and flattered by your expreffion of Orna me. The chief pleasure this work can give me is that I can in it, with propriety, decency, and justice, infert the name and character of every friend I have, and every man that deserves to be loved or adorned. But I fmile at your applying that phrase to my visiting you in Ireland; a place where I might have fome apprehenfion (from their extraordinary paffion for Poetry, and their boundless Hospitality) of being adorned to death, and buried under the weight of garlands, like one I have read of fomewhere 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 fenfible to me, though scarce to any thing else; which doubles the reason of my attendance, and at the fame time sweetens it. I wish (beyond any other wish) you could pass a fummer here; I might (too probably) return with you, unless you preferred to fee France first, to which

country,

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 poft-office may do this, when fome letters of his to me have met the fame fate, and two of mine to him. Yet let not this difcourage you from writing to me, or to him inclofed 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 'em free leave to fend all I write to Curl, if most of what I write was not too filly..

I defire my fincere fervices to Dr. Delany, who, I agree with you, is a man every way esteemable: my Lord Orrery is a moft 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 fent your fervices, return you theirs, with proper fense of the diftinction.

-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 abfence, to be my Chef d'Oeuvre: but it cannot be printed perfectly, in an age fo fore of Satire, and fo willing to mifapply characters.

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As to my own health, it is as good as ufual. I have lain ill seven days of a flight fever (the complaint here), but recovered by gentle fweats, and the care of Dr. Arbuthnot. The play Mr. Gay left, fucceeds very well; it is another original in its kind. Adieu. God

preferve your life, your health, your limbs, your fpirits, and your friendships!

LETTER LXVI.

April 2, 1733.

ou fay truly, that death is only terrible to us as

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it feparates us from those we love, but I really think those have the worst of it who are left by us, if we are true friends. I have felt more (I fancy) in the lofs of Mr. Gay, than I fhall fuffer in the thoughts of going away myself into a state that can feel none of this fort of loffes. I wifhed vehemently to have seen him in a condition of living independent, and to have lived in perfect indolence the rest of our days together, the two most idle, moft innocent, undefigning Poets of our age. I now as vehemently wish you and I might walk into the grave together, by as flow steps as you please, but contentedly and chearfully: whether that ever can be, or in what country, I know no more, than into what country we fhall walk out of the grave. But it fuffices me to know it will be

exactly

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