ufe an author's words, whom you fo justly prefer to all his followers that you will receive them kindly, though taken from his worft work*;)

That in Elijah's banquet you partake,
Or fit a guest with Daniel, at his pulfe.

you

I am fincerely free with you, as you defire I fhould, and approve of your not having your coach here, for if you would fee Lord C- or any body elfe, I have another chariot, befides that little one you laughed at when you compared me to Homer in a nut-fhell. But if would be entirely private, no body fall any thing of the matter. Believe me (my Lord) no man is with more perfect acquiefcence, nay with more willing acquiefcence (not even any of your own fons of the church), your obedient, &c.

know

LETTER CXLII. The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. Pope.

April 6, 1722.

The

When I come to you, it is in order to be with you only; a prefident of the council, or a star and garter, will make no more impreffion upon my mind, at fuch a time, than the hearing of a bag-pipe, or the fight of a puppet show. I have faid to greatnefs fome time ago-Tuas tibi res habeto, egomet curabo meas. time is not far off when we fhall all be upon the level: and I am refolved, for my part, to anticipate that time, and be upon the level with them now: for he is fo, that neither feeks nor wants them. Let them have more virtue and lefs pride; and then I will court them as much as any body: but till they refolve to diftinguish themfelves fome way elfe than by their outward trappings, I am determined (and, I think, I have a right) to be as proud as they are: though, I truft in God, my pride is neither of fo odious a nature as theirs, nor of fo mifchievous a confequence.

UNDER all the leifure in the world, I have no leifure, no ftomach to write to you: the gradual approaches of death are before my eyes. I am convinced that it must be fo; and yet make a fhift to flatter myfelf fometimes with the thought, that it may poflibly be otherwife. And that very thought, though it is directly contrary to my reafon, does for a few moments make me eafy-however, not eafy enough in good earnest to think of any thing but the melancholy object that employs them. Therefore wonder not that I do not answer your kind letter: I fhall answer it too foon, I fear, by accepting your friendly invitation. When I do fo, no conveniences will be wanting: for I will fee nobody but you and your mother, and the fervants. Vifits to flatefmen always were to me (and are now more than ever) infipid things; let the men that expect, that wish to thrive by them, pay them that homage; I am free. When I want them, they fhall hear of me at their doors; when they want me, I fhall be fure to hear of them at mine. But probably they will defpife me fo much, and 1 fhall court them fo little, that we fhall both of us keep our distance.

The Paradife Regained.

I know not how I have fallen into this train of thinking-when I fat down to write, I intended only to excufe myself for not writing, and to tell you that the time drew nearer and nearer, when I must diflodge: I am preparing for it; for I am at this moment building a vault in the abbey for me and mine. It was to be in the abbey, because of my relation to the place; but it is at the weft door of it; as far from Kings and Cæfars as the space would admit of.

I know not but I may ftep to town tomorrow, to fee how the work goes forward; but if I do, I fhall return hither in the evening. I would not have given you the trouble of this letter, but that they tell me it will coft you nothing, and that our privilege of franking (one of the most valuable we have left) is again allowed us. Your, &c.

LETTER CXLIII.
From the fame to the fame.

Bromley, May 25, 1722. the water being fo rough that the ferHAD much ado to get hither last night, rymen were unwilling to venture. The first thing I faw this morning after my eyes were open, was your letter, for the freedom and kindness of which I thank you. Let all compliments be laid asse M m 4 between

between us for the future; and depend upon me as your faithful friend in all things within my rover, as one that truly values you, and withes you all manner of happiness. I thank you and Mrs. hope for my kind reception, which has left a pleafing imprefon upon me that will not foon be efficed.

Lord has prefed me terribly to fee him at -, and told me, in a manner betwixt kindness and refentment, that it is but a few miles beyond Twitenham.

I have but a little time left, and a great deal to do in it; and mul expect that ill health will render a good fare of it ufelefs: and therefore what is likely to be left at the foot of the account, ought Ly me to be cherished, and not thrown away in compliments. You know the motto of my fun-dial, Flute, dit, figin. 1 will, as far as I am able, fullow its a ivice, and cut off all unneccitary avceations and amufements. There are thole that intend to employ me this winter in a way I do not like: if they perift in their intentions, I muit apply myself to the work they cat cat for me, as well as I can. But with, that fall not hindur me from employing myfelf alio in a way which they do not like. The givers of trouble one day thall have their ihre of it another; that at lat they may be indaced to let me be quiet, and live to myflf, with the few (a very few) triends I like; for that is the point, the fingle point, I now aim at; though, I know, the generality of the world who are unacquinted with my intentions and views, think the very reverfe of this character belongs to me. I do not know how I have rumbled into this accourt of my fl; when I fat down to write, i had no thought of making that any part of my letter.

ΠΟ

You might have been fure, without my telling you, that my right hand is at ene; elle i fhould not have overdo al at this rate. And yet I have not done, for there is a kind intimation in the end of yours, when I underfeed, becaufe it feems to tend towards empley ing me in fomething that is agreeable to you. Pray er plata yoarklf, and believe that you have not an acquaintance in the world that would be more in eareft on fuch an occañon than I; for I love you, as well as encom you!,

All the while I have been writing, pain, and a fine thrush, have been feve rally endeavouring to call off my atten tion; but both in vain, nor fhould I yet part with you, but that the turning cer a new leaf frights me a little, and make me refolve to break through a new temp. ation, before it has taken too fat h on me. I am, &c.

LETTER CXLIV.

The Bishop of Rock efter to Mr. P. June 15, 1722, you have generally written firi, afær

our parting; I will now be beforehand with you in my inquiries, how you got home, and how you do, and whether you met with Lord

and delivered my civil reproach to him, in the manger I'd fired? I fuppofe you did not, becaufe I have heard nothing cither from you or from him on that head; as, I iuppofe, I might have done, if you had found him.

I am fick of these men of quality; and the more fo, the cfiner I have any bun nfs to tranfact with them. They los upon it as one of their distinguishing pr vileges, not to be punctual in any budnf, of how great importance foever, nor to fet other people at eafe, with the lors of the leaft part of their own. conduct of his vezes me; but to what pu pofe? or how can I alter it?

I long to fee the original MS. of M

ten; but do not know how to come a without your repeated allance.

I hope you will not utterly forget what poffed in the coach about Samion Age mides. I fhall not prefs you as to t betiome ti ne or other, I wish you would review and porth that piece. If open a new percful of it (which I defire you to male) you think as I do, that it is writ ten in the very fpitit of the ancients; à drves your care, and is capable at a ing improved, with little trouble, int perfect medel and standard of tragic pertry--always allowing for its being a f taken out of the bible; which is an ob jeden that at this time of day, I ha is not to be got over. I am, &c.

There is an answer for me fomewhere in Hamlet to this request, which you remember, though I do not: Poor gheft! thou shalt be satisfied!--or fomething like it. However that be, take care you do not fail in your appointment, that the company of the living may make me fome amends for my attendance on the dead.

I know you will be glad to hear that I am well: I fhould always, could I always be here

Sed me

Imperiofa trabit Proferpina: vive, valique. You are the first man I fent to this morning, and the lat man I defire to converfe with this evening, though at twenty miles distance from you.

I

The Bishop of Rochester to Mr. Pope. Dear Sir, The Tower, April 10, 1723. THANK you for all the inftances of your friendship, both before and fince my misfortunes. A little time will complete them, and feparate you and me for ever. But in what part of the world foever I am, I will live mindful of your fincere kindness to me; and will pleafe myfelf with the thought, that I fill live in your efteem and affection, as much as ever I did; and that no accident of life, no ditance of time, or place, will alter you in that respect. It never can me; who have loved and valued you, ever fince I knew you, and thall not fail to do it when I am not allowed to tell you fo; as the cafe will foon be. Give my faithful fervices to Dr. Arbuthnot, and thanks for what he fent me, which was much to the purpofe, if any thing can be faid to be to the purpote, in a cafe that is already determined. Let him know my detence will be fuch, that neither my friends need bluth for me, nor will my enemies have great occafion of triumph, though fure of the victory. I fhall want his advice before I go abroad, in many things. But I question whether i fhall be permitad to fee him, or any body, but fuch as are abfolutely neceffary towards the dif patch of my private affairs. If fo, God biets you both; and may no part of the ill fortune that attends me, ever purfue either of you! I know not but I may call

upon you at my hearing, to say fomewhat about my way of spending my time at the Deanery, which did not seem calculated towards managing plots and confpiracies. But of that I fhall confiderYou and I have fpent many hours toge ther upon much pleasanter fubjects; and, that I may preferve the old cuftom, I fhall not part with you now till I have clofed this letter with three lines of Milton, which you will, I know, readily and not without fome degree of concern, apply to your ever affectionate, &c. Some natʼral tears he dropt, but wip'd them foon: The world was all before him, where to chule His place of reft, and Providence his guide.

IT

is

not poffible to express what I think, and what I feel; only this, that I have thought and felt for nothing but you, for fome time paft and shall think of nothing fo long for the time to come. The greatelt comfort I had was an intention (which I would have made practica ble) to have attended you in your journey, to which I had brought that perfon to confent, who only could have hindered me, by a tie which, though it may be more tender, I do not think more ftrong, than that of friendship. But I fear there will be no way left me to tell you this great truth, that I remember you, that I love you, that I am grateful to you, that I entirely efteem and value you: no way but that one, which needs no open warrant to authorife it, or fecret convey. ance to fecure it; which no bills can preclude, and no kings prevent; a way can reach to any part of the world where you may be, where the very whisper, or even the with, of a friend must not be heard, or even fufpected: by this way, dare tell my esteem and affection of you, to your enemies in the gates, and you, and they, and their fons, may hear of it.

that

, I

You prove yourself, my Lord, to know me for the friend I am; in judging that the manner of your defence, and your reputation by it, is a point of the highest concern to me and affuring me, it fhall be fuch, that none of your friends fhall bluth for you. Let me farther prompt you to do yourself the belt and

mut

moft lafting juftice: the inftruments of your fame to pofterity will be in your own hands. May it not be, that Providence has appointed you to fome great and ufeful work, and calls you to it this fevere way? You may more eminently and more effectually ferve the public even now, than in the ftations you have so honourably filled. Think of Tully, Bacon, and Clarendon : is it not the latter, the difgraced part of their lives, which you moft envy, and which you would choose to have lived?

I am tenderly fenfible of the wish you exprefs, that no part of your misfortune may pursue me. But, God knows, I am every day lefs and lefs fond of my native country (fo torn as it is by party-rage), and begin to confider a friend in exile as a friend in death; one gone before, where I am not unwilling nor unprepared to follow after; and where (however various or uncertain the roads and voyages of another world may be) I cannot but entertain a pleafing hope that we may meet again.

I faithfully affure you, that in the mean time there is no one, living or dead, of whom I fhall think oftner or better than of you. I fhall look upon you as in a state between both, in which you will have from me all the paffions and warm wishes that can attend the living, and all the refpect, and tender fenfe of lofs, that we feel for the dead. And I fhall ever depend upon your conftant friendship, kind memory, and good offices, though I were never to fee or hear the effects of them like the truft we have in benevolent fpirits, who, though we never fee or hear them, we think are conftantly ferving us, and praying for us, Whenever I am wishing to write to you, I fhall conclude you are intention ally doing fo to me. And every time that I think of you, I will believe you are thinking of me. I never fhall fuffer to be forgotten (nay to be but faintly remembered) the honour, the pleasure, the pride I must ever have, in reflecting how frequently you have delighted me, how kindly you have diftinguished me, how cordially you have advised me! In converfation, in ftudy, I fhall always want

Clarendon indeed wrote his best works in his

Banitament: but the best of Bacon's were written

before his difgrace, and the best of Tully's after

return from exile.

From the fame to the fame.

May, 1723. NCE more I write to you, as I proON mifed, and this once, I fear, will be the laft! the curtain will foon be drawn between my friend and me, and nothing left but to with you a long good-night. May you enjoy a ftate of repofe in this life, not unlike that fleep of the foul which fome have believed is to fucceed it, where we lie utterly forgetful of that world from which we are gone, and ripening for that to which we are to go. If you retain any memory of the past, let it only image to you what has pleafed you beft; fometimes prefent a dream of an absent friend, or bring you back an agreeable converfation. But upon the whole, I hope you will think less of the time paft than of the future; as the former has been lefs kind to you than the latter infallibly will be. Do not envy the world your ftudies; they will tend to the benefit of men against whom you can have no complaint, I mean of all pofterity; and perhaps, at your time of life, nothing else is worth your care. What is every year of a wife man's life but a cenfure or critic on the past? Thofe whofe date is the fhorteft, live long enough to laugh at one half of it: the boy defpifes the infant, the man the boy, the philofopher both, and the Chriftian all. You may now begin to think your manhood was too much a puerility; and you will never fuffer your age to be but a fecond infancy. The toys and baubles of your childhood are hardly now more below you, than thofe toys of our riper and of our declining years, the drums and rattles of ambition, and the dirt and bubbles of avarice. At this time, when you are cut off from a little fociety, and made a citizen of the world at large, you fhould bend your talents not to ferve a party, or a few, but all mankind. Your genius fhould mount above that mift in