I appeal even to any Spanish divine, whether addresses were ever made to a friend in Hell or Purgatory. And who are all those enemies you hint at? I can only think of Curll, Gildon, 'Squire Burnet, Blackmore, and a few others, whose fame I have forgot: tools, in my opinion, as necessary for a good writer, as pen, ink, and paper. And besides, I would fain know whether every draper does not show you three or four damned pieces of stuff to set off his good one? However, I will grant that one thorough bookselling rogue is better qualified to vex an author, than all his contemporary scribblers in critic or satire, not only by stolen copies of what was incorrect or unfit for the public, but by downright laying other men's dulness at your door. I had a long design upon the ears of that Curll, when I was in credit; but the rogue would never allow me a fair stroke at them, although my penknife was ready drawn and sharp. I can hardly believe the relation of his being poisoned, although the historian pretends to have been an eye-witness: but I beg pardon, sack might do it, although ratsbane would not. * I never saw the thing you mention as falsely imputed to you; but I think the frolics of merry hours, even when we are guilty, should not be left to the mercy of our best friends, until Curll and his resemblers are hanged.

With submission to the better judgment of you and your friends, I take your project of an employment under Langallerie to be idle and unnecessary. Have a little patience, and you will find more merit

*This story originated in a practical joke played off by Pope upon Curll, who gave him an emetic in a glass of sack. See the Account of the Poisoning of Edmund Curll, Vol. XIII. p. 285

and encouragement at home, by the same methods. You are ungrateful to your country; quit but your own religion, and ridicule ours, and that will allow you a free choice for any other, or for none at all, and pay you well into the bargain. Therefore pray, do not run and disgrace us among the Turks, by telling them you were forced to leave your native home, because we would oblige you to be a Christian; whereas we will make it appear to all the world, that we only compelled you to be a whig.

There is a young ingenious quaker* in this town who writes verses to his mistress, not very correct, but in a strain purely what a poetical quaker should do, commending her look and habit, &c. It gave me a hint that a set of quaker pastorals might succeed, if our friend Gay† could fancy it, and I think it a fruitful subject; pray hear what he says. I believe farther, the pastoral ridicule is not exhausted and that a porter, footman, or chairman's pastoral might do well. Or what think you of a Newgate pastoral, among the whores and thieves there? §

Lastly, to conclude, I love you never the worse for seldom writing to you. I am in an obscure scene, where you know neither thing nor person. I can only answer yours, which I promise to do after a sort, whenever you think proper to employ me. But I can assure you, the scene and the times have depressed me wonderfully, for I will impute no

* George Rooke, linen-draper.-Dubl. ed.

+ Gay did write a pastoral of this kind, which is published in his works.-WARBURTON.

Swift himself wrote one of this kind, 66 Dermot and Sheelah "-WARBURTON.

This hint is said to have suggested the "Beggar's Opera."

defect to those two paltry years which have slipped by since I had the happiness to see you.

the truest esteem,

Yours, &c.

I am with

FROM THE DUCHESS OF ORMOND.*

SIR,

September 14, 1716.

I HAD the ill-fortune to miss of that letter you upbraided me with. I had deserved any reproaches you could make me, if it had come to my hands, and I not made due acknowledgments for your inquiries after me. I will make you wish wish you had not been so angry with me: for I will scrawl out myself, what you would rather Betty or my maid had, for they would have made shorter work of it; but I will answer every part of yours, that you obliged me with by Mr Ford.

First, as to the lady you mention, the reason I had not seen her in a great while was, my being in the country. To tell you the truth, I believe her husband has been a better courtier, than either she, or any of her sex could be; because men have it in their power to serve, and I believe hers has effectually done what lay in him.

* This melancholy letter, from an amiable and unhappy lady, was written after the Duke of Ormond, her husband, had thought it necessary to escape into France, and while she was struggling with the difficulties arising from indigence, his whole fortune being forfeited, and from the neglect of her powerful friends and relatives. It is highly to Swift's honour, that if he cultivated the great and ambitious in their hour of importance, he never neglected them in their fall.

There is yet

You kindly ask how my affairs go. no end of them, and God only knows when there will be. For when every thing was thought done, a sudden blast has blown all hopes away, and then they give me fresh expectations. In the mean time I am forced to live upon the borrow; my goods all taken away, that I shall not so much as have a bed to lie upon, but what I must buy; and no money of my own to do that with; so that you may imagine me in a cheerful way. I pray God support me.

The gentleman* you inquired after is very well now. The illness you heard he had, he has been subject to a good while. What you desire, I wish were in the power of either his brother or me; but all will go from both of us of every kind. Only they say, that the clothes upon my back I may perhaps call my own, and that's all. I was obliged to leave the country. I was so ill there, that if I had not come to the physicians, I cannot tell what might have happened. My daughter is your most humble servant, and is pretty well in health,

Am not I one of my word, and troubled you twice as long as you would have wished? But you will find by this, that a woman's pen should no more be set at work than her tongue; for she never knows when to let either of them rest. But my paper puts me in mind, that I have but just room to tell you, wish much to see you here, if it could be with your satisfaction; and that I am, with great sincerity, Sir, Your faithful humble servant,

M. ORMOND.

I

*The duke. See p. 265.-N.

FROM LORD BOLINGBROKE. *

Oct. 23, 1716.

It is a very great truth, that, among all the losses which I have sustained, none affected me more sensibly than that of your company and correspondence; and yet, even now, I should not venture to write to you, did not you provoke me to it. A commerce of letters between two men who are out of the world, and who do not care one farthing to return into it again, must be of little moment to the state; and yet I remember enough of that world to know, that the most innocent things become criminal in some men, as the most criminal pass applauded in others.

Your letter breathes the same spirit as your conversation, at all times inspired, even when the occasions of practising the severest rules of virtuous fortitude seemed most remote; if such occasions could ever seem remote to men, who are under the direction of your able and honest friend Sir Roger. †

To write about myself is no agreeable task, but your commands are sufficient at once to determine and excuse me. Know, therefore, that my health is far better than it has been a great while; that the money which I brought over with me will hold out some time longer; and that I have secured a small

*Endorsed," The 'Squire.-Received Nov. 7, 1716.”—N. + Sir Roger is the name given to Lord-Treasurer Oxford, in the history of John Bull. As Bolingbroke is known to have hated and despised the treasurer, the words able and honest must be taken ironically.-H.