to see you very much: shall you come this way on Saturday? For though I intended to be in town, I find I must take physic, being in a very ill way this week; though if I had found a coach to-day, I had come; as I often have for my friends, when really I have been little able. Adieu! I am truly, dear Sir, Yours.

Have you lately seen Lady Suffolk? She was ill when I left the town.

DEAR SIR,

LETTER XLV.

Friday, Dec. 1734.

I FULLY intended to have dined with you yesterday, and the day before; but the first of them I was taken in at Court, and yesterday and to-day am so ill of a most troublesome cold, which has brought down the uvula of my mouth, that I cannot dine at all. Would you go to-morrow to Twitnam, and could you spare the coach, I would go gladly with you; if not, I must stay, perforce, till Sunday morning. I hope all your fireside are well, and growing merrier and merrier as Christmas approaches. I shall have no rest nor joy till I get to my mum again. Adieu! dear Sir, Yours.

DEAR SIR,

I

LETTER XLVI.

Twitnam, May 10.

THANK YOU for your constant memory of me, which upon every occasion you shew; when (God knows) my daily infirmities make me hardly capable of shewing, though very much so of feeling, the concerns of a friend. I am glad your family are well arrived; and your taking care first to tell me so, before I inquired, is a proof you know how glad I am of yours and their welfare. I intended to tell you first how kind Sir R. Walpole has been to me; for you must know, he did the thing with more despatch than I could use in acknowledging or telling the news of it.* Pray thank him for obliging you (that is, me) so readily, and do it in strong terms, for I was awkward in it, when I just mentioned it to him. He may think me a worse man than I am, though he thinks me a better poet perhaps; and he may not know I am much more his servant, than those who would flatter him in their verses. I have more esteem for him, and will stay till he is out of power, (according to my custom,) before I say what I think of him. It puts me in mind of what was said to him once before by a poet: "In power, your servant; out of power, your friend:" which a critic

This probably refers to Sir Robert's having interfered at the request of Pope, to obtain an abbacy in France for Mr. Southcote, to whom Pope considered himself as under obligations which have been alluded to in his Life, chap. i.

(who knew that poet's mind) said, should be altered thus: " In power, your friend; but out of power, your servant; such most poets are!" But if Sir R. ever finds me the first low character, let him expect me to become the second. In the mean time I hope he will believe me his, in the same sincere disinterested manner that I am,

Dear Sir, yours.

Next Sunday I expect some company here, but that need not hinder you from a night's lodging in the country, if you like it.

DEAR SIR,

LETTER XLVII.

August 2, 1735.

I HAD sooner written to you, but that I wished to send you some account of my own and of your affairs in my letter. This day determines both; for we cannot find out who is the pirater of my works, therefore cannot move for an injunction, though they are sold over all the town. That injury I must sit down with, though the impression cost me above 2007. as the case yet stands, there being above half the impression unsold. Curll is certainly in it, but we can get no procf. He has done me another injury, in propagating lies in Fog's Journal of Saturday last, which I desire you to see, and consider if not matter for an information. One Mr. Gandy, an attorney, writes me word, Mr. Cruwys is too busy to attend

my little affairs, and that you approve of his being employed for him. Now, as to your business, I write this from your house; the windows will be done, and a stone chimney-piece up, by the end of next week. I will see all effected, and order the painting after. I have paid the fisherman.

I have exercised hospitality plentifully these twenty days, having entertained many of mine, and some of Lady S.'s friends. There is a greater court now at Marble-hill than at Kensington, and God knows when it will end. Mrs. Blount is your hearty humble servant, and Lady S. returns you all compliments. Make mine to your whole family, when you write. I dine to-day with some of your friends, and shall give your services in the evening to Lord Hay. The town has nothing worth your hearing or care; it is a wretched place to me, for there is not a friend in it. The news is supposed to be very authentic, that the Persians have killed sixty thousand Turks. I am sorry that the sixty thousand Turks are killed, and should be just as sorry if the sixty thousand Persians had been killed; almost as sorry as if they had been so many Christians.

Dear Sir, adieu! As soon as you get home, pray contrive (if you can) to send what letters you have been so partial to me as to keep, especially of an early date, before the year 1720. I may derive great service from seeing them in the chronological order; and I find my collection, such as it is, must be hastened, or will not be so effectual.

May all health and happiness follow you in your circuit, and, at the end of it, with repose to join them; and then I think you will have all that is worth living for in this world; for as for fame, it is neither worth living for, or dying for. I am truly, dear Sir,

Your faithful friend, and affectionate servant.

Pray, when you write to Mr. Curwys, inquire if he has not forgot Mrs. Blount's arrear from her brother of 251. due last Lady-day.

DEAR SIR,

I A

LETTER XLVIII.

Aug. 23, 1735.

AM summoned unexpectedly to Southampton, to take leave (I fear my last) of Lord Peterborough; from whence I return in a week, he going for France at the month's end. But I first took care of your house; the window is done, and the other bricked up; as to the back window, I think it will do as it is; the painters have done, and next week the upholsterer sets up the beds. I have not had one quiet day to possess my soul there in peace. I shall die of hospitality, which is a fate becoming none but a patriarch, or a parliament man in the country. Those who think I live in a study, and make poetry my business, are more mistaken than if they took me for a Prince of Topinambou. I love my particular friends as much as if I knew no others, and I receive almost