reason to praise smoaky rooms for the future, and prescribe them in like cases to our friends. The maid of the house writes us word, that while you were there you were busy for ten days together writing continually-and that as Wat drew nearer and nearer to Ireland, he blundered more and more.

By a scrap of

paper left in this smoaky room, it seem'd as if the Book you were writing, was a most lamentable account of your travels; and really, had there been any wine in the house, the place would have not been so irksome. We were further told, that you set out, were driven back again by a storm, and lay in the ship all night. After the next setting fail, we were in great concern about you, because the weather grew very tempestuous. When to my great joy, and surprize, I receiv'd a letter from Carlingford in Ireland, which inform'd us that after many perils you were safely landed there. Had the oysters been good it would have been a comfortable refreshment after your fatigue. We compassionated you in your travels through that country of defolation and poverty in your way to Dubin, for it is a most dread ful circumstance to have lazy dull horses on a road where there are very bad or no Inns. When you carry a sample of English Apples next to Ireland, I beg you would either get them from Goodrich or Devonshire, Pray who was the Clergyman that met you at some distance from Dublin ? because we could not learn his name. These are all the hints we could get of your long and dangerous jour, pey, every step of which we shar'd your anxieties


and all that we have now left to comfort us, is to hear that you are in good health. But why should we tell you


know already ? The Queen's family is at last settled, and in the list I was appointed Gentlemanulher to the Princess Louisa, the youngest Princess; which, upon account that I am so far advanc'd in life, I have declin'd accepting; and have endeavoured, in the best manner I could, to make my excuses by a letter to her Majesty, So now all my expectations are yanilh'd, and I have no prospect, but in depending wholly upon my self, and my own conduct. As I am us’d to disappointments I can bear them, but as I can have no more hopes, I can no more be disappointed, so that I am in a blessed condition, You remember you were advising me to go into Newgate to finish my scenes the more correctly --- I now think I shall, for I have no attendance to hinder me ; but my * Opera is already finished. I leave the reft of this Paper to Mr. Pope,

Gay is a freeman, and I writ him a long congratulatory letter upon it.

it. Do

Do you the fame: It will mend him, and make him & better man than a Court could do. Horace might keep his coach in Augustus's time, if he pleas'd, but I won't in the time of our

Augustus. * The Beggar's Opera,

Augustus. My Poem (which it grieves me that I dare not send you a copy of, for fear of the Curls and Dennis's of Ireland, and still more for fear of the worst of Traytors, our friends and Admirers) my Poem, I say, will shew

you what a distinguishing age we lived in: Your name is in it, with some others under a mark of such ignominy as you will not much grieve to wear in that company. Adieu, and God bless you, and give you health and fpirits.

Whether you chuse Cervantes" serious air,
Or laugh and make in Rablais' easy chair,
Or in the graver Gown inftru£t mankind,

Or filent, let thy morals tell thy mind.
These two verses are over and above what I've
said of


in the Poem, Adieu,


Dr. SWIFT to Mr, GAY,

Dublin, Nov. 23, 1727.
Entirely approve your resusal of that 'em-

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I am perfectly confident you

have a keen enemy in the Ministry: God forgive him, but not until he puts himself in a state to be forgiven. Upon reasoning with my self, I should hope they are gone too far to discard you quite,


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and that they will give you something; which although much less than they ought, will be (as far as it is worth) better circumstantiated. And since you already just live, a middling help will make you just tolerable. Your lateness in life (as you so soon call it) might be improper to begin the world with, but almost the eldest men may hope to see changes in a Court. A minister is always seventy; and you are thirty years younger; and consider, Cromwel himself did not begin to appear in the world until he was older than


I beg you will be thrifty, and learn to value a Thilling, which Dr. Birch said was a serious thing. Get a stronger fence about your 1000l, and throw the inner fence into the heap, and be advised by your Twitenham landlord and me about an annuity. You are the most refractory, honest, good natured man I ever have known; I could argue out this paper-I am very glad your Opera is finished, and hope your friends will join the readier to make it succeed, because you are ill used by others.

I have known Courts these thirty-six years, and know they differ ; but in some things they are extreamly constant: First, in the trite old maxim of a minister's never forgiving those he hath injured : Secondly, in the insincerity of those who would be thought the best friends: Thirdly, in the love of fawning, cringing, and tale-bearing : Fourthly, in facrificing those whom we really wish well, to a point of in

terest, terest, or intrigue : Fifthly, in keeping every thing worth taking, for those who can do ser= vice or disservice.

Now-why doth not Mr. Pope publish his * dulness? the rogues he marketh will die of themselves in peace, and so will his friends, and so there will be neither punishment, nor reward. Pray enquire how my of Lord St. John doth ? there is no man's health in England I am more concerned about than his I wonder whether you begin to taste the pleasure of Independency? or whether you do not fometimes leer upon the Court, $ oculo retorto? Will you not think of an annuity when you are two years older, and have doubled your purchase-money? Have

your Opera, and got the usual dedication-fee of twenty guineas ? How is the Doctor ? doth he not chide that you never called upon

him for hints ? Is my Lord Bolingbroke at the mo.' ment I am writing, a planter, a philosopher, or a writer ? is Mr. Pultney in expectation of a son, or my Lord Oxford of a new old manuscript ? I bought your Opera to day for fix

pence, a cursed print. I find there is neither dedication nor preface, both which wants. I approve ; it is in the grand gout.

We * Dunciade.

+ Lord. St. John of Battersea, Father to Lord Bolingbroke.

§ With a Side- glance.
|| High Taste.

you dedicated

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