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DEAR SIR,

LETTER II.

March 8, 1732-3.

UR moft kind Letter was a fenfible pleafure to me;

YOUR

and the friendship and concern fhewn in it, to fuggeft what you thought might be agreeable to a perfon whom you know I would not disoblige, I take particularly kind. But the affair in question of any alteration is now at an end, by that Lady's having taken her own fatisfaction in an avowed libel, fo fulfilling the veracity of my prophecy. There has been another thing, wherein Pigot is abused as my learned counfel, written by fome Irifh attorney; and Curll has printed a parody on my own words, which he is proud of as his own production, faying he will pay no more of his authors, but can write better himself. The town, fince you went, has entered much into the fafhion of applauding the "Effay on Man ;" and in many places it is fet up as a piece far excelling any thing of mine, and commended, I think, more in oppofition to me, than in their real judgment it deferves. I congratulate with you for being got out of the noife and debate about the Excifes, getting money and health at once, and doing justice too. I think your's is much the better part. I must beg you to remind Mr. Cs of Mr. Bethel's affair, not to let flip this Lady-day, in making the demand on the

premises

premises in Wales, it is certainly now high time he should write to the attorney there. Having done with all law matters, the rest of this paper should be filled with all expreffions of efteem and friendship, if fuch expreffions could be of any ufe or grace after the experience and habit (the two strongest of things) of many years. Believe me, you have the effentials; and the ceremonials, therefore, are laid aside.

Such a practice, continued where it is needlefs, is like keeping up the scaffolding after the building is finishedwhat helped to raise it at first, will but difgrace it at last. Adieu! and write at your leifure.-Sit tibi cura mei, fit tibi cura tui.

To William Fortefcue, Efq. at his House, in Bell-yard, near Lincoln's Inn,

London.

Yours ever,

A. POPE.

I

LETTER III.

that if you,

you

DEAR SIR, Oct. 5th, 1734. SHOULD have told have any occafion to direct to Mr. Bethel, it must be at Bestwick, near Beverley, Yorkshire: this I had told you laft Saturday, when I intended to have paffed the evening you; but one of my fits of illness fent me to bed

with

at

at eight o'clock, after a tiresome day. I came to Twitnam, where I am in my garden, amused and easy: this is a scene where one finds no disappoint ment; the leaves of this year, that are fallen, are fure to come on again the next: 'tis far otherwife in the great world (I mean the little world) of a court, etc. Get to be a judge, the fooner the better, and go to reft. Adieu! Believe me truly your's. I think to see you at the end of the week. In the mean time, if you have any thing fatisfactory from Eadnell or Roberts, tell me; for my friend's concerns are more than my own; or if you have not, at least tell me you are well, and when I may be fecureft to find you at home. I am, most affectionately,

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I

AM fummoned unexpectedly to Southampton, to take leave (I fear my laft) 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 houfe; the window is done, and the other bricked

up;

up; as to the back window, I think it will do as it is; the painters have done, and next week the upholfterer fets up the beds. the beds. I have not had one quiet day to poffefs my foul there in peace. I fhall die of hofpitality, 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 every body that comes near me as a friend: this is too much; it diffipates me when I fhould be collected for though I may be of fome (not much) value to a few, yet, divided among fo many, I must be good for nothing. Life becomes a mere paftime. When shall you and I fit by a fire-fide without a brief or a poem in our hands, and yet not idle, not thoughtless, but as ferious, and more fo, than any business ought to make us, except the great business, that of enjoying a reafonable being, and regarding its end?-the fooner this is the cafe the better. God deliver you from law, me from rhyme, and give us leifure to attend to what is more important. Believe me, dear Sir, with all affection, but in great hurry (for my foot is in the coach the moment my hand is off this paper). [May all happiness wait on Buckland and Fallapit].

To Wm. Fortescue, Efq. at Fallowpit,

near Totnes, Devon.

Entirely yours,

A. POPE.

I

DEAR SIR,

LETTER V.

Twitnam, May 16th.

SHOULD, without compliment, come to town any day you defired, on any account, as well as on fo agreeable an one as you propofe; but (which I wonder my communicative waterman never told your people) my mother has been and is extremely ill, and dangerously so, of an intermittent fever, which requires my constant attendance. There is nobody with me but the Dean of St. Patrick's, who would hardly be here if he were not the beft-natured and indulgent man I know; it is so melancholy a way of paffing his time. I could be glad to fee you, if you have a day of leisure, and indeed there are few friends to whom I could make this request. I wish you and yours well and happy in every circumstance of life, and am truly, dear Sir,

Yours,

A. POPE.

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