dis-relish of all that the world calls Ambition: I don't know why 'tis called so, for to me it always seemed to be rather stooping than climbing. I'll tell you my politic and religious sentiments in a few words. In my politics, I think no farther than how to preserve the peace of my life, in any government under which I live; nor in my religion, than to preserve the peace of my conscience in any church with which I communicate. I hope all churches and all governments are so far of God, as they are rightly understood, and rightly administered: And where they are, or may be wrong, I leave it to God alone to mend or reform them; which whenever he does, it must be by greater instruments than I am. I am not a Papist, for I renounce the temporal invasions of the Papal power, and detest their arrogated authority over Princes and States. I am a Catholic in the strictest sense of the word. If I was born under an absolute Prince, I would be a quiet subject; but I thank God I was not. I have a due sense of the excellence of the British Constitution. In a word, the things I have always wished to see, are not a Roman Catholic, or a French Catholic, or a Spanish Catholic, but a true Catholic: And not a King of Whigs, or a King of Tories, but a King of England. Which God of his mercy grant his present Majesty may be, and all future Majesties. You see, my Lord, I end like a preacher: This is Sermo ad Clerum, not ad Populum. Believe me, with infinite obligation and sincere thanks, ever

Your, etc.

Happy if this sentiment was universally adopted!

LETTER V.

Sept. 23, 1720.

I HOPE you have some time ago received the Sulphur, and the two volumes of Mr. Gray, as instances (how small ones soever) that I wish you both health and diversion. What I now send for your perusal I shall say nothing of; not to forestall by a single word what you promised to say upon that subject. Your Lordship may criticise from Virgil to these Tales; as Solomon wrote of every thing from the cedar to the hyssop. I have some cause, since I last waited on you at Bromley, to look upon you as a prophet in that retreat, from whom oracles are to be had, were mankind wise enough to go thither to consult you: The fate of the South-Sea scheme has, much sooner than I expected, verified what you told me. Most people thought the time would come, but no man prepared for it; no man considered it would come like a Thief in the Night; exactly as it happens in the case of our death. Methinks God has punished the avaricious, as he often punishes sinners, in their own way, in the very sin itself. The thirst of gain was their crime; that thirst continued became their punishment and ruin. As for the few who have the good fortune to remain, with half of what they imagined they had (among whom your humble servant), I would have them sensible of their felicity, and convinced of the truth of old Hesiod's maxim, who, after half of his estate was

is

Ն

swallowed by the Directors of those days, resolved, that half to be more than the whole.

Does not the fate of these people put you in mind of two passages, one in Job, the other from the Psalmist?

Men shall groan out of the CITY, and hiss them out of their PLACE.

They have dreamed out their dream, and awaking have found nothing in their hands.

Indeed the universal poverty, which is the consequence of universal avarice, and which will fall hardest upon the guiltless and industrious part of mankind, is truly lamentable. The universal deluge of the S. Sea, contrary to the old deluge, has drowned all except a few unrighteous men: But it is some comfort to me that I am not one of them, even though I were to survive and rule the world by it. I am much pleased with a thought of Dr. Arbuthnot's; he says the government and South-Sea company have only locked up the money of the people, upon conviction of their Lunacy (as is usual in the case of Lunatics), and intend to restore them as much as may be fit for such people, as fast as they shall see them return to their senses.

The latter part of your letter does me so much honour and shews me so much kindness, that I must both be proud and pleased, in a great degree; but I assure you, my Lord, much more the last than the first. For I certainly know, and feel, from my own heart, which truly respects you, that there may be a ground for your partiality, one way; but I find not

the least symptoms in my head, of any foundation for the other.

In a word, the best reason I know for my being pleased is, that you continue your favour toward me; the best I know for being proud would be, that you might cure me of it; for I have found you to be such a physician, as does not only repair, but improve. I am with the sincerest esteem, and most grateful acknowledgment,

Your, etc.

LETTER VI.

FROM THE BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.

THE Arabian Tales, and Mr. Gay's books, I received not till Monday night, together with your letter; for which I thank you. I have had a fit of the gout upon me ever since I returned hither from Westminster on Saturday night last; it has found its way into my hands as well as legs, so that I have been utterly incapable of writing. This is the first letter that I have ventured upon; which will be written, I fear, vacillantibus literis, as, Tully says, Tyro's letters were, after his recovery from an illness. What I said to you in mine about the Monument, was intended only to quicken, not to alarm you. It is not worth your while to know what I meant by it: but when I see you, you shall. I hope you may be at the Deanery towards the end of October, by which time I think of settling there for the winter. What think of some such short inscription as this

do you

in Latin, which may, in a few words, say all that is to be said of Dryden, and yet nothing more than he deserves?

IOHANNI DRYDENO,

CVI POESIS ANGLICANA

VIM SVAM AC VENERES DEBET;

ET SI QVA IN POSTERVM AVGEBITVR LAVDE, EST ADHVC DEBITVRA:

HONORIS ERGO P. etc.

To shew you that I am as much in earnest in the affair as you yourself, something I will send you too of this kind in English. If your design holds of fixing Dryden's name only below, and his busto above -may not lines like these be graved just under the name?

This Sheffield rais'd, to Dryden's ashes just,

Here fix'd his Name, and there his laurel'd Bust.
What else the Muse in Marble might express,
Is known already; Praise would make him less.

Or thus

More needs not; where acknowledg'd Merits reign,
Praise is impertinent; and Censure vain.

This you'll take as a proof of my zeal at least, though

it be none of my talent in Poetry.

read it over, I'll forgive you, if you

in your lifetime again think of it.

When you have

should not once

And now, Sir, for your Arabian Tales. Il as I have been almost ever since they came to hand, I have read as much of them, as ever I shall read while I live'. Indeed they do not please my taste; they

How contemptuously soever the Bishop thought of those Tales, yet was Addison very fond of them, and we know how beautifully he imitated them.