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Yet foft by nature, more a dupe than wit,
Sappho can tell you how this man was bit:
This dreaded Sat'rift Dennis will confefs
Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress:
So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's door,

Has drunk with Cibber, nay has rhym'd for Moor.
Full ten years flander'd, did he once reply?
Three thousand funs went down on Welfted's lye.


VER. 368. in the MS.

Once, and but once, his heedlefs youth was bit,
And lik'd that dang'rous thing, a female wit:
Safe as he thought, tho' all the prudent chid;

He writ no Libels, but my Lady did :

Great odds in am'rous or poetic game,

Where Woman's is the fin, and Man's the shame.



VER. 374. ten years] It was fo long after many libels before the Author of the Dunciad published that poem, till when, he never writ a word in answer to the many fcurrilities and falfehoods concerning him.


VER. 375. Welfted's Lye.] This man had the impudence to tell in print, that Mr. P. had occafioned a Lady's death, and to name a perfon he never heard of. He also publish'd that he libell'd the Duke of Chandos; with whom (it was added) that he had lived in familiarity, and received from him a prefent of five hundred pounds: the falfehood of both which is known to his Grace. Mr. P. never received any prefent, farther than the fubfcription for Homer, from him, or from Any great Man whatfo

ever. P.

To please a Mistress one afpers'd his life;


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He lafh'd him not, but let her be his wife :
Let Budgel charge low Grubstreet on his quill,
And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his Will;
Let the two Curls of Town and Court, abuse
His father, mother, body, foul, and mufe.



VER. 378. Let Budgel] Budgel, in a weekly pamphlet called the Bee, beftowed much abuse on him, in the imagination that he writ fome things about the Laft Will of Dr. Tindal, in the Grubftreet Journal; a Paper wherein he never had the leaft hand, direction, or fupervifal, nor the least knowledge of its Author.


VER. 379. except his Will] Alluding to Tindal's Will: by which, and other indirect practices, Budgell, to the exclufion of the next heir, a nephew, got to himfelf almost the whole fortune of a man entirely unrelated to him.

VER. 381. His father, mother, &c.] In fome of Curl's and other pamphlets, Mr. Pope's father was faid to be a Mechanic, a Hatter, a Farmer, nay a Bankrupt. But, what is ftranger, a Nobleman (if fuch a Reflection could be thought to come from a Nobleman) had dropt an allufion to that pitiful untruth, in a paper called an Epiftle to a Doctor of Divinity: And the following line,

Hard as thy Heart, and as thy Birth obfcure,

had fallen from a like Courtly pen, in certain Verses to the Imitation of Horace. Mr. Pope's Father was of a Gentleman's Family in Oxfordshire, the head of which was the Earl of Downe, whose fole Heiress married the Earl of Lindsey-His mother was the daughter of William Turnor, Efq. of York: She had three brothers, one of whom was killed, another died in the fervice of King Charles; the eldeft following his fortunes, and becoming

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Yet why? that Father held it for a rule,

It was a fin to call our neighbour fool:

That harmless Mother thought no wife a whore :
Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore!
Unfpotted names, and memorable long!

If there be force in Virtue, or in Song.


Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause,
While yet in Britain Honour had applause)
Each parent sprung-A. What fortune, pray?-P.
Their own,

And better got, than Beftia's from the throne.
Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife,
Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife,

Stranger to civil and religious rage,

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The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age. 395


a general officer in Spain, left her what eftate remained after the fequeftrations and forfeitures of her familyMr. Pope died in 1717, aged 75; She in 1733, aged 93, a very few weeks after this poem was finished. The following infcription was placed by their fon on their Monument in the parish of Twickenham, in Middle sex.

D. O. M.



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No Courts he faw, no fuits would ever try,
Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a Lye.
Un-learn'd, he knew no schoolman's fubtile art,
No language, but the language of the heart.
By Nature honeft, by Experience wise,
Healthy by temp'rance, and by exercise;
His life, tho' long, to fickness paft unknown,
His death was inftant, and without a groan.



O grant me, thus to live, and thus to die!
Who fprung from Kings fhall know lefs joy than I.
O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
Be no unpleafing Melancholy mine:

Me, let the tender office long engage,

To rock the cradle of repofing Age,

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Make Langour smile, and smooth the bed of Death,

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,

And keep a while one parent from the sky!

On cares like thefe if length of days attend,

May Heav'n, to blefs thofe days, preferve my friend,


After 405. in the MS.

And of myself, too, fomething muft I fay?
Take then this verfe, the trifle of a day.

And if it live, it lives but to commend

The man whose heart has ne'er forgot a Friend,
Or head, an Author: Critic, yet polite

And friend to Learning, yet too wife to write.

Preserve him focial, chearful, and ferene,
And just as rich as when he ferv'd a QUEEN.
A. Whether that bleffing be deny'd or giv❜n,
Thus far was right, the reft belongs to Heav'n.



VER. 417. And just as rich as when he ferv'd a Queen.] An honeft compliment to his Friend's real and unaffected difinterestedness, when he was the favourite Phyfician of Queen Anne.

VER. 418. A. Whether this bleffing, &c.] He makes his friend close the Dialogue with a fentiment very expreffive of that religious refignation, which was the Character both of his temper, and his piety,

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