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THERE is nothing so lamentable as to beholds the Excesses to which an unchristian Revenge is but too apt to hurry Mankind, when they have not the mild Disposition of the Gospel before their Eyes. There we are taught to think that all Christians are our Neighbours, and that we ought to love them as ourselves: Therefore, how much soever Papislies may be mistaken in their Opinions, we ought not to give them bodily Persecution or ill Usage, but leave them to the Laws of the Land; for although mistaken, they are still some Sort of Christians. , .. ,, O ! that this pious Consideration could have withheld the Hands of two Protestant Gentlemen from offering opprobrious Violence to the Body of Mr. Pope; which however, we hope, will be no Reflection on the Protestant Religion abroad.

The barbarous Fact was as follows,

Last Thursday, being a pleasant Evening, Mr. Sauny Pope, a great Poet (as we are informed) was walking in Ham-Walks, meditating Verses for the Publick Good, when two Gentlemen came up to him, (whose Names we cannot certainly learn) and knowing him perfectly well, partly by his Back, and partly by his Face, walked a Turn or two with him; when entering into a Conversation (as we hear on the Dunciad, a pretty Poem of the said Poet's Writing) on a sudden, one of the Gentlemen hoisted poor Master Pope, the Poet, on his Back, whilst the other drew out, from under his Coat, a long Birchen Rod, (as we are informed made out of a Stable Broom) and with the same long Rod, did, with great Violence and an unmerciful Hand, strike Master Pope so hard on his naked Posteriors, that he voided vast Quantities of Ichor, or Blood, which being Yellow, one Dr. Arbuthnot his Physician, has

since

since assirmed, had a great Proportion of Gallmix'd with it, which occasioned the faid Colour.

As soon as this inhuman Whipping was over, the two Gentlemen made off, and left poor Master Pope

weltering in his own yellow Blood When Mrs.

Blount, a good charitable Woman, and near Neighbour of Master Pcpe's at Twickenham, chancing to come by, took him up in her Apron, and buttoning up his Breeches, carried him to the Water-side, where she got a Boat to convey him hcme.

We hear that Master Pope has been ever since greatly disordered; occasioned, as it is supposed, by the faid Whipping, which has driven the Humour upwards, and affected his Head in such a Manner, that the poor Man continually raves for Pen, Ink, and Paper; and although they have been allowed him by his own Physician Dr. Arbuthnot, who mistook his Case; yet he is now strictly forbid the Use of them, by the learned Dr. Hale of Lincoln'sInn-FieUs, under whose Care he is at present, and who doubts not (God willing) to restore the poor Man to his Senses.

It is impossible for any charitable Christian not to compassionate the Case of this unfortunate Poet, although he differs from us in Religion; but we cannot too much admire the Wisdom of Providence, which brings this Man to the Lash, whose want of Wit has been lashing of others. And that this Madness eads him to rave for Pen* Ink, and Paper; whereof he has made so ill a Use, and which has been the Cause of the present Misfortune he labours unden We hope when he returns to his Senses, he will make a better Use of them, and then he may fay with holy t)avid, It is good for me that I have been affliSled.

Thus far the publick Account; which caus'd the VOL. L Z following fojlowiag Advertisement in the Daily Post of Friday, June 14, 1728.

WH F- R A S there has been a scandalous Paper cried about the Streets under the Title of A Po pp upon Pope, insinuating, that I was whipped in Ham-Walks, on Thursday last. This is to give Notice, that I did not stir out of my House at Twickenham all that Day, and the same is a malicious and ill-grounded Report.

A. P.

If this were true it was a very unlawful Resentment, and in many Countries would be return'd by an Assassination of the Persons concern'd; who, if they concealed themselves, must have lost great Part of their Revenge, by his not knowing who were the Causes of his Suffering.

Thus was he persecuted by many, some covertly, some openly; nay, Concanen accused him of Treason, only because two Vacancies of Asterisms might possibly be rilled up with the Names of George and Caroline.

Though he wanted very little Assistance, several Friends appeared for him, particularly his old one Scriblerus:

But if a Genius rise, whose pointed, Wit
Corrects your Morals, and all Tastes shall fit,
Claim then the Privilege to be his Foes,
Ye cannot shine, but when ye Worth oppose.
When ye deny him Fame, ye fix your own,
And to he satiris'd, is to be known.
Some hold, they're better in a cursed State,
Than to be totally annihilate;

Thrica

Thrice happy then, ye deathless, duncely Train!
The Subjects of the higher Dunciad's Strain.
How many, who have Reams os Paper spoil'd,
Have often sleepless Nights obscurely toil'd,
And buried in their Eggs, like Silk-worms, lay*
'Till his warm Satire shew'd them Lise and Day?
Here then, my Sons, is all your living Hope,
To be immortal Scribblers, rail at Pope.

He introduces Narcissus (the fame with Lord Fanny) waking the Laureat sleeping on the Lap of Dullness, and conjuring him by all Things dear, at last rouzes him:

"Dear Laureat, rouse, the Enemy's at Hand, "Another Dunciad travels round the Land, "Whence all the sole Proprietors of Trash, "Thy Friends and mine, mostjustly sear the Lash."

Vain are his Esforts yet again he tries,

"Thy Odes!-oh fave thy Odes /--dear Laureat, rise; "If notfor Odes—yet fox Love's Riddle wake— "Nor that ?—thy Careless Hu/band's then at Stake."

All would not do his soft Distress preferr'd,

Nor the great Mother, nor the Laureat heard; For on her Lap so daintily he lay, His Senses, breath'd into her, stole away; All Aims at a Recovery were vain, 'Till she vouchfaf'd to breathe them back again. One gentle Imprecation more, and then, He cries, " Farewell the Laureat and his Pen: "Thy Country calls, if thou resign'st thy Sense, "Yet rouse to be a Man of Consequence. "Who calls thee Dunce abuses too thy King, "Whose Praises, by thy Place, thou'rt bound to sing; "O! grant me Aid, aflume the pleasing Task, "In thy Nonjuror's fav'rite Name I ask."

2 2 Thrice

Thrice groan'd the Ompha, and in Thunder spoke,The Blast his Sense return'd, and Slumber broke; Nonjure! That Word alone unbinds the Charms, For Party Dullness always sounds to jlrms, Upstarts the Sire, " Mistake me not he cries, "Whoever fays I was afleep—he lies; "You know, my Lord, how I my Wits exert, "How always pleasing, and how always pert; "I know your Grief before the Cause is told; "Then here my Pen in Readiness I hold. "Since by Desire I enter thus the Lists, "I vow Revenge,—know, Colley ne'er desists: "Then I'll pursue him with my latest Breath, "Nor drop this Pen 'till quite benumb''d with Death."

How far the Laureat has kept his Word, concerning his not dropping his Pen, we shall observe in its Place, and imagining that Mr. Pepe has lull'd his Dunces for a Time afleep, give a little Rest to the Reader, and finish here our first Volume.

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