able creature capable of. Gay's play among the rest has cost much time and long-suffering, to stem a tide of malice and party, that authors have raised against it. The best revenge against such fellows is now in my hands: I mean your Zoilus, which really transcends the expectation I had conceived of it. I have put it into the press, beginning with the poem Batrachom: for you seem by the first paragraph of the dedication to it, to design to prefix the name of some particular person. I beg therefore to know for whom you intend it, that the publication may not be delayed on this account; and this as soon as possible. Inform me also on what terms I am to deal with the bookseller, and whether you design the copy money for Gay, as you formerly talked what number of books you would have yourself, &c. I scarce see any thing to be altered in this whole piece; in the poems you sent, I will take the liberty you allow me. The story of Pandora, and the Eclogue upon Health, are two of the most beautiful things I ever read. I don't say this to the prejudice of the rest: but as I have read these oftener. Let me know how far my commission is to extend, and be confident of my punctual performance of whatever you enjoin. I must add a paragraph on this occasion, in regard to Mr. Ward, whose verses have been a great pleasure to me; I will contrive they shall be so to the world, wherever I can find a proper opportunity of publishing them.

I shall very soon print an entire collection of my own Madrigals, which I look upon as making my last will and testament, since in it I shall give all I ever intend to give (which I'll beg your's and the Dean's acceptance of): you must look on me no more as a poet; but a plain commoner who lives upon his own, and fears and flatters no man. I hope before I die to discharge the debt I owe to Homer, and get upon the whole just fame enough to serve for an annuity for my own time, though I leave nothing to posterity.

I beg our correspondence may be more frequent than it has been of late. I am sure my esteem and love for you never more deserved it from you, or more prompted it from you. I desired our friend Jervas, (in the greatest hurry of my business) to say a great deal in my name, both to yourself and the Dean, and must once more repeat the assurances to you both, of an unchanging friendship and unalterable esteem, I am, dear sir, most entirely,

Your, &c.

My dear Sir,

TO THE SAME.

I was last summer in Devonshire, and am this

winter at Mrs. Bonyer's.

In the summer I wrote

a poem, and in the winter I have published it;

which I sent to you by Dr. Elwood.

In the sum

mer I eat two dishes of toad-stools of my own

gathering, instead of mushrooms; and in the winter I have been sick with wine, as I am at this time, blessed be God for it, as I must bless God for all things. In the summer I spoke truth to damsels; in the winter I told lies to ladies : now you know where I have been, and what I have done. I shall tell you what I intend to do the ensuing summer; I propose to do the same thing I did last, which was to meet you in any part of England you would appoint; don't let me have two disappointments. I have longed to hear from you, and to that intent teased you with three or four letters, but having no answer, I feared both yours and my letters might have miscarried. hope my performance will please the Dean, whom I often wish for, and to whom I would have often wrote; but for the same reasons I neglected writing to you. I hope I need not tell you how I love you, and how glad I shall be to hear from you; which next to seeing you, would be the greatest satisfaction to your most affectionate friend and humble servant,

J. G.

I

TO THE SAME.

Dear Mr. Archdeacon,

THOUGH my proportion of this epistle should be but a sketch in miniature, yet I take up half this page, having paid my club with the good company

both for our dinner of chops, and for this paper. The poets will give you lively descriptions in their way I shall only acquaint you with that which is directly my province. I have just set the last hand to a couplet, for so I may call two nymphs in one piece. They are Pope's favorites; and though few, you will guess must have cost me more pains than any nymphs can be worth. He is so unreasonable as to expect that I should have made them as beautiful upon canvass as he has done upon paper. If this same Mr. P—— should omit to write for the dear frogs, and the Pervigilium, I must entreat you not to let me languish for them, as I have done ever since they crossed the seas. Remember by what neglects, &c. we missed them when we lost you, and therefore I have not yet forgiven any of those triflers that let them escape and run those hazards. I am going on at the old rate, and want you and the Dean prodigiously, and am in hopes of making you a visit this sum-mer, and of hearing from you both now you are together. Fortescue, I am sure, will be concerned that he is not in Cornhill, to set his hand to these presents, not only as a witness, but as a Serviteur très-humble,

C. JERVAS.

IT is so great an honour to a poor Scotchman to be remembered at this time of day, especially by

an inhabitant of the Glacialis Ierne, that I take it very thankfully, and have with my good friends remembered you at our table, in the chophouse in Exchange Alley. There wanted nothing to complete our happiness but your company, and our dear friend the Dean's: I am sure the whole entertainment would have been to his relish. Gay has got so much money by walking the streets, that he is ready to set up his equipage: he is just going to the Bank to negotiate some exchange bills. Mr. Pope delays his second volume of his Homer till the martial spirit of the rebels is quite quelled, it being judged that the first part did some harm that way. Our love again and again to the dear Dean; fuimus Tories; I can say no more. ARBUTHNOT.

WHEN a man is conscious that he does no good himself, the next thing is to cause others to do some. I may claim some merit this way, in hastening this testimonial from your friends above writing their love to you indeed wants no spur, their ink wants no pen, their pen wants no hand, their hand wants no heart, and so forth (after the manner of Rabelais, which is betwixt some meaning and no meaning); and yet it may be said, when present thought and opportunity is wanting, their pens want ink, their hands want pens, their hearts want hands, &c. till time, place, and con