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road from Ireland; from which I am juft relieved by an
affurance that you are ftill at Sir A's, planting and
building; two things that I envy you for, befides a
third, which is the fociety of a valuable Lady. I con-
'clude (tho' I know nothing of it) that you quarrel with
her, and abuse her every day, if she is fo. I wonder
I hear of no Lampoons upon her, either made by your-
felf, or by others because you efteem her. I think it
a vast pleasure that whenever two people of merit re-
gard one another, so many scoundrels envy and are an-
gry at them: 'tis bearing teftimony to a merit they can-
not reach; and if you knew the infinite content I have
́receiv'd of late, at the finding yours and my name
conftantly united in any filly fcandal, I think you
would go near to fing Io Triumphe! and celebrate my
happiness in verfe; and, I believe, if you won't, I
fhall. The infcription to the Dunciad is now printed
and inferted in the Poem. Do you care I should fay
any thing farther how much that Poem is yours? fince
certainly without you it had never been. Would to
God we were together for the rest of our lives! The
whole weight of Scriblers would juft ferve to find us
amnfement, and not more. I hope you are too well em-
ployed to mind them: every stick you plant, and every
ftone you lay, is to fome purpofe; but the bufinefs of
fuch lives as theirs is but to die daily, to labour, and
raife nothing. I only wish we could comfort each
other under our bodily infirmities, and let those who
have fo great a mind to have more Wit than we, win
it and wear it. Give us but eafe, health, peace, and
fair weather! 1 think it is the best wish in the world,
and
you know whofe it was. If I liv'd in Ireland, I
fear the wet climate would endanger more than my
life; my humour and health; I am so atmospherical a

creature.

I must not omit acquainting you, that what you heard of the words spoken of you in the Drawing-room, was not true. The fayings of Princes, are generally as ill related as the fayings of Wits. To fuch reports little of our regard fhould be given, and lefs of our conduct ienced by them..

A

Lived

LETTER XXXV.

From Dr. SWIFT.

Dublin, Feb. 13, 1728.

very easily in the country: Sir A. is a man of sense, and a scholar, has a good voice, and my lady a better; she is perfectly well-bred, and defires to improve her understanding, which is very good, but cultivated too much like a fine lady. She was my pupil there, and feverely chid when the read wrong; with that, and walking, and making twenty little amufing improvements, and writing family-verfes of mirth by way of libels on my Lady, my time past very well and in very great order; infinitely better than here, where I fee no creature but my fervants and. my old Prefbyterian houfe-keeper, denying myself to every body, till I fhall recover my ears..

The account of another Lord Lieutenant was only in a common news-paper, when I was in the country; and if it should have happened to be true, I would have defired to have had accefs to him, as the fituation I am in requires. But this renews the grief for the death of our friend Mr. Congreve, whom I loved from my youth, and who furely, befides his other talents, was a very agreeable companion. He had the misfortune to fquander away a very good conftitution in his younger days;

and I think a man of fenfe and merit like him, is bound in confcience to preserve his health for the fake of his friends, as well as of himself. Upon his own account I could not much defire the continuance of his life, under fo much pain, and fo many infirmities: Years have not yet hardened me; and I have an addition of weight on my spirits fince we loft him; tho' I faw him fo feldom, and poffibly, if he had liv❜d on, fhould never have seen him more. I do not only wish as you ask me, that I was unacquainted with any deferving perfon, but almoft that I never had a friend. Here is an ingenious good-humoured Physician, a fine gentleman, an excellent fcholar, cafy in his fortunes, kind to every body, hath abundance of friends, entertains them often and liberally, they pafs the evening with him at cards, with plenty of good meat and wine, eight or a dozen together; he loves them all, and they him. He has twenty of thefe at command; if one of them dies, it is no more than poor Tom! he gets another, or takes up with the reft, and is no more mov’d than at the lofs of his cat; he offends nobody, is eafy with every body is not this the true happy man ? Î was defcribing him to my Lady A-, who knows him too, but she hates him mortally by my character, and will not drink his health: I would give half my fortune for the fame temper, and yet I cannot fay Flove it, for I do not love my lord →→→→who is much of the Doctor's nature. I hear Mt. Gay's fecond Opera, which you mention, is forbid; and then he will be once more fit to be advised, and reject your advice. Adieu.

LETTER XXXVI.

Dr. SWIFT to Lord BOLINGBROKE.

Dublin, March 21, 1729.

You tell me you have not quitted the defign of collecting, writing, etc. This is the answer of every finner who defers his repentance. I with Mr. Pope were as great an urger as I, who long for nothing more than to fee truth under your hands, laying all detraction in the dust—I find myself difpofed every year, or rather every month, to be more angry and revengeful; and my rage is fo ignoble, that it defcends even to refent the folly and baseness of the enflaved people among whom I live. I knew an old Lord in Leicestershire, who amufed himself with mending pitchforks and fpades for his Tenants gratis. Yet I have higher ideas left, if I were nearer to objects on which I might employ them; and contemning my private fortune, would gladly cross the channel and ftand by, while my betters were driving the Boars out of the garden, if there be any probable expectation of fuch an endeavour. When I was of your age I often thought of death, but now after a dozen years more, it is never out of my mind, and terrifies me lefs. I conclude that Providence hath order'd our fears to decrease with our spirits; and yet I love la bagatelle better than ever: for finding it troublesome to read at night, and the company here growing taftelefs, I am always writing bad profe, or worse verses, either of rage or raillery, whereof fome few efcape to give offence or mirth, and the reft are burnt.

They print fome Irish trash in London, and charge it on me, which you will clear me of to my friends, for

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all are fpurious except one* paper, for which Mr. Pope very lately chid me. I remember your Lordship us'd to fay, that a few good speakers would in time carry any point that was right; and that the common method of a majority, by calling, To the question, would never hold long when reafon was on the other fide. Whether politics do not change like gaming by the invention of new tricks, I am ignorant; but I believe in your time you would never, as a Minifter, have fuffered an act to pass thro' the H. of C s, only because you were

fure of a majority in the H. of L-ds to throw it out; because it would be unpopular, and confequently a lofs of reputation. Yet this we are told hath been the cafe in the qualification-bill relating to Penfioners. It should seem to me that Corruption, like avarice, hath no bounds. I had opportunities to know the proceedings of your miniftry better than any other man of my rank; and having not much to do, I have often compar'd it with thefe laft fixteen years of a profound peace all over Europe, and we running seven millions in debt. I am forc'd to play at small game, to set the beafts here a madding, merely for want of better game, Tentanda via eft qua me quoque poffim, etc. The D- take those politics, where a Dunce might govern for a dozen years together. I will come in perfon to England, if I am provok'd, and fend for the Dictator from the plough. I disdain to say, O mihi praeteritos― but cruda deo viridifque fenectus. Pray, my Lord, how are the Gardens? Have you taken down the mount, and remov'd the yew hedges? Have you not bad weather for the spring corn? Has Mr. Pope gone farther in his Ethic Poems and is the head-land fown with wheat? and what fays Polybius? and how does my Lord St.

Entituled, A Libel on Dr. Delany, and a certain great Lord,