Manner of your Favourite Rochefoucault, than in Verfe:* And this when nothing more is done but marking the Repetitions in the Margin, will be an eafy Tafk for yourself to proceed upon, notwithstanding the bad Memory you complain of. I am unfeignedly, dear Sir, Your's, &c. In Compliance with his Requeft, Mr. Pope, as you have feen, began to look them over, and as there was great Room for Amendment, to blot and interline, and fometimes almost new make Parts of the Performances. He was much complimented by Mr. Wycherley till the above Letters of Diffatisfaction came to his Hand, and one more, for Mr. Pope ftill continu'd to write. This laft was of a very extraordinary Nature, letting him know in few and hollow Words, that he was going out of Town without faying where, and did not expect to hear from him till he came back. This extorted from Mr. Pope a Protestation that nothing should induce him ever to write to him again. In a Letter to Mr. Cromwell he expreffes himself thus: I Hope it will be no Offence to give my most hearty Service to Mr. Wycherley, tho' I perceive. by his last to me, I am not to trouble him with my Letters, * Mr. Wycherley lived five Years after, to December 1715, but little Progrefs was made in this Defign, thro' his Old Age, and the Increase of his Infirmities. However, fome of the Verfes which had been touched by Mr. P. with 308 of thefe Maxims in Profe were found among his Papers, which having the Misfortune to fall into the Hands of a Mercenary, were publifhed in 1728, in Octavo, under the Title of The Pofthumous Works. of Willaim Wycherley, Efq; Letters, fince he there told me he was going inftantly out of Town, and till his Return was my Seryant, &c. I guefs by Your's he is yet with you, and beg you to do what you may with all Truth and Honour, that is, affure him I have ever born all the Refpect and Kindnefs imaginable to him. I do not know to this Hour what it is that has eftrang'd him from me; but this I know, that he may for the future be more fafely my Friend, fince no Invitation of his fhall ever more make me free with him. I could not have thought any Man had been fo very cautious and fufpicious, as not to credit his own Experience of a Friend. Indeed to believe no body, may be a Maxim of Safety, but not so much of Honefty. There is but one Way I know of converfing fafely with all Men, that is, not by concealing what we fay or do, but by faying or doing nothing that deferves to be conceal'd, and I can truly boast this Comfort in my Affairs with Mr. Wycherley. But I pardon his Jealoufy, which is become his Nature, and fhall never be his Enemy, whatsoever he fays of me. Your, &c. Notwithstanding all this, he kept a conftant Refpect, and a Scrt of Reverence to him, whenever fpoke of he lamented the Misunderstanding between them, which wholly rofe from the Jealoufy, Weaknefs and Petulancy of Mr. Wycherley, and curs'd the Perfon (a Thing not cuftomary with him) whofe wicked Infinuations had been the Cause of it. Upon the Death of that humorous and truly witty and natural Poet, he wrote his Friend Mr. Blount a Letter, which plainly fhews his Opinion of his great Abilities, his Love of him as a good Man, and his Love of him as one he was refolv'd always to be a Friend to, though Age, Vexation, and the very D 3 ill Ufage of his next Heir had made him forward and almoft too peevish to be humour'd by the best Natures, yet fo very fufpicious as to be open to all Whispers and Calumnies. Mr. Pope's Letter is dated 21 Jan. 1715-6. I To EDWARD BLOUNT, Efq; Dear Sir, Know of nothing that will be fo interesting to you at prefent, as fome Circumftances of the laft Act of that eminent Comic Poet, and our Friend, Wycherley. He had often told me, as I doubt not he did all his Acquaintance, that he would marry as foon as his Life was defpair'd of. Accordingly a few Days before his Death he underwent the Ceremony and join'd together those two Sacraments, which wife Men fay fhould be the laft we receive; for if you obferve, Matrimony is plac'd after Extreme Unction in our Catechism, as a Kind of Hint of the Order of Time in which they are to be taken. The old Man then lay down, fatisfied in the Conscience of having, by this one Act, paid his just Debts, oblig'd a Woman who (he was told) had Merit, and fhewn an heroic Refentment of the ill Ufage of his next Heir. Some Hundred Pounds which he had with the Lady, discharg'd those Debts; a Jointure of Four Hundred a Year made her a Recompence; and the Nephew he left to comfort himfelf, as well as he could, with the miferable Remains of a mortgaged Eftate. I faw our Friend twice after this was done, lefs peevifh in his Sickness than he used to be in his Health; neither much afraid of dying, nor (which in him had been more likely) much much afham'd of marrying. The Evening before he expir'd, he call'd his young Wife to the Bedfide, and earnestly entreated her not to deny him one Request, the last he should make. Upon her Affurances of confenting to it, he told her, My Dear, it is only this; that you will never marry an old Man again. I cannot help remarking, that Sicknefs which often deftroys both Wit and Wifdom, yet feldom has Power to remove that Talent which we call Humour. Mr. Wycherley fhew'd his even in this laft Compliment, tho' I think his Request a little hard; for why should he bar her from doubling her Jointure on the fame eafy Terms. So trivial as these Circumftances are, I fhould not be difpleas'd myself to know fuch Trifles, when they concern or characterise any eminent Perfon. The wifeft and wittieft of Men are feldom wifer or wittier than others in these fober Moments. At least our Friend ended much in the Character he had liv'd in, and Horace's Rule for a Play may as well be applied to him as a Playwright: fervetur ad imum Qualis ab inceptu processerit, & fibi conftet. I am, &c. From Time to Time he fhew'd himself more to the World, and brought to theLight a Sacred Poem call'd the Meffiab, in Imitation of tho' much exceeding Virgil's Polio, concluding thus: No more the rifing Sun fhall gild the Morn, O'erflow thy Courts: The Light himfelf fhall fhine Reveal'd, and God's eternal Day be thine! The Seas fhall wafte, the Skies in Smoke decay, Rocks fall to Durft, and Mountains melt away; But fix'd his Word, his faving Pow'r remains; Thy Realm for ever lafts, thy own Meffiah reigns! Windfor Foreft, a Poem addrefs'd to my Lord Lanfdown, in which is the beautiful Metamorphofis of a Nymph into the River Loddon. Here, as old Bards have fung, Diana ftray'd, The Mufe fhall fing, and what she fings fhall laft) Now |