well as I can. If I do not write intelligibly to you, it is because I would not have the clerks of the post-office know every thing I am doing. If you would come here this summer, you might, with me, have helped to have drunk up the Duke's wine, and saved your money. I am growing so saving of late, that I very often reproach myself with being covetous; and I am very often afraid that I shall have the trouble of having money, and never have the pleasure of making use of it. I wish you could live among us; but not unless it could be to your ease and satisfaction. You insist upon your being minister of Amesbury, Dawley, Twickenham, Riskins, and prebendary of Westminster. For your being minister in those places, I cannot promise you; but I know you might have a good living in every one of them. Gambadoes I have rid in, and I think them a very fine and useful invention; but I have not made use of them since I left Devonshire. I ride and walk every day to such excess, that I am afraid I shall take a surfeit of it. I am sure, if I am not better in health after it, it is not worth the pains. I say this, though I have this season shot nineteen brace of partridges. I have very little acquaintance with our vicar; he does not live among us, but resides in another parish. And I have not played at backgammon with any body since I came to Amesbury, but Lady Harold, and Lady Bateman. As Dr. Delany has taken away a fortune from us, I expect to be recommended in Ireland. If authors of

godly books are entitled to such fortunes, I desire you would recommend me as a moral one; I mean, in Ireland, for that recommendation would not do in England.

THE DUCHESS BEGINS.

The Duchess will not lend you two or three thousand pounds to keep up your dignity, for reasons to Strada del Po; but she had much rather give you that, or ten thousand pounds more, than lay it out in a fine petticoat to make herself respected.

I believe, for all you give Mr. Gay much advice, that you are a very indiscreet person yourself, or else you would come here to take care of your own affairs; and not be so indiscreet as to send for your money over to a place where there is none. Mr. Gay is a very rich man: for I really think he does not wish to be richer; but he will, for he is doing what you bid him; though, if it may not be allowed, he will acquire greater honour, and less trouble. His covetousness at present, is for health, which he takes so much pains for, that he does not allow himself time to enjoy it. Neither does he allow himself time to be either absent or present. When he began to be a sportsman, he had like to have killed a dog; and now every day I expect he will kill himself, and then the bread and butter affair can never be brought before you. It is really an affair of too great consequence to be trusted in a letter; therefore pray come on purpose to decide.

VOL. X.

it. If you do, you will not hear how familiar I am with Goody Dobson; for I have seen Goody Dobson play at that with so ill a grace, that I was determined never to risk any thing so unbecoming. I am not beloved, neither do I love any creature, except a very few, and those, not for having any sort of merit, but only because it is my humour; in this rank, Mr. Gay stands first, and yourself next, if you like to be respected upon these conditions. Now do you know me? He stands over me, and scolds me for spelling ill; and is very peevish (and sleepy) that I do not give him up the pen; for he has yawned for it a thousand times. We both once heard a lady (who at that time we both thought well of) wish that she had the best living in England to give you.* It was not I; but I do wish it with all my heart, if Mr. Gay does not hang out false lights for his friend.

MR. GAY GOES ON HERE.

I had forgot to tell you, that I very lately received a letter from Twickenham, in which was this paragraph: "Motte, and another idle fellow, I find, have been writing to the Dean, to get him to give them some copyright, which surely he will not be so indiscreet as to do, when he knows my design, and has done these two months and more. Surely I should be a properer person to trust the

*

Lady Suffolk, or, perhaps, Queen Caroline, while Princess of
Sir W. Scott.

Wales.

distribution of his works with, than a common bookseller. Here will be nothing but the ludicrous and little things; none of the political, or any things of consequence, which are wholly at his own disposal. But, at any rate, it would be silly in him to give a copyright to any, which can only put the manner of publishing them hereafter out of his own and his friends' power, into that of mercenaries."*

I really think this is a very useful precaution, considering how you have been treated by these sort of fellows.

The Duke is fast asleep, or he would add a line.

* The following letter from Pope to Mr. Motte, of which the original is in Mr. Nichols's possession, seems to refer to the same transaction:

SIR,

Sir W. Scott. August 16, 1732.

Had I had the least thought you would have now desired what you before so deliberately refused, I would certainly have preferred you to any other bookseller. All I could now do was to speak to Mr. Gilliver, as you requested, to give you the share you would have in the property, and to set aside my obligation and covenant with him so far, to gratify the Dean and yourself. You cannot object, I think, with any reason to the terms which he pays, and which at the first word he agreed to.

I am, Sir,

Your friend and servant,

A. POPE.

2 B

VOL. X.

LETTER CXXV.

MR. POPE TO MR. GAY.

October 2, 1732.

SIR Clem. Cottrel tells me you will shortly come to town. We begin to want comfort in a few friends about us, while the winds whistle and the waters roar. The sun gives us a parting look, but it is a cold one. We are ready to change those distant favours of a lofty beauty, for a gross material fire, that warms and comforts more. I wish you could be here till your family come to town. You will live more innocently, and kill fewer harmless creatures, nay none, except by your proper deputy, the butcher. It is fit, for conscience sake, that you should come to town, and that the Duchess should stay in the country, where no innocents of another species may suffer by her. I hope she never goes to church: the Duke should lock you both up, and less harm would be done. I advise you to make man your game, hunt and beat about here for coxcombs, and truss up rogues in satire I fancy they will turn to a good account, if you can produce them fresh, or make them keep: and their relations will come, and buy their bodies of you.

The death of Wilks leaves Cibber without a colleague, absolute and perpetual dictator of the stage, though indeed while he lived he was but as Bibulus to Cæsar. However, ambition finds something to be gratified with in a mere name; or else, God