here, for if you would fee Lord C* or any body elfe, I have another chariot, befides that little one you laugh'd at when you compar'd me to Homer in a nut-fhell. But if you would be entirely private, no body shall know 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 Sons of the Church)

Your obedient, &c.

LETTER. XVI.

From the Bishop of ROCHESTER.

April 6, 1722.

NDER all the leifure in the world, I have

UND

no leisure, no ftomach to write to you: The gradual approaches of death are before my eyes; I am convinced that it must be so; and yet make a fhift to flatter myself fometimes with the thought, that it may poffibly be otherwife. And that very thought, tho' it is directly contrary to my reason, does for a few moments make me eafy-however not eafy enough in good earneft to think of any thing but the melancholy object that employs them. Therefore wonder not that I do not answer your kind letter: 1 fhall answer it too foon, I fear, by accepting your friendly invitation. When I do fo, no conveniencies will be wanting: for I'll fee no body but you and your mother, and the fervants. Vifits to statesmen 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: and when they want me, I fhall be fure to hear of them at mine.

But

But probably they will defpife me fo much, and I fhall court them fo little, that we fhall both of us keep our distance.

When I come to you, 'tis in order to be with you only; a prefident of the council, or a ftar 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-fhew. I have faid to Greatnefs fometime ago-Tuas tibi res habeto, Egomet curabo meas. The time is not far off when we fhall all be upon the level: and I am refolv'd, 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'll court them as much as any body: but till they resolve to distinguish themselves 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: tho' I truft in God, my pride is neither of fo odious a nature as theirs, nor of fo mifchievous a confequence.

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 Abby for me and mine. 'Twas to be in the Abby, because of my relation to the place; but 'tis at the weft door of it: as far from Kings and Cæfars as the space will admit of.

I know not but I may step to town to-morrow, to fee how the work goes forward; but, if I do, I shall 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

G 3

privilege

privilege of Franking (one of the most valuable we have left) is again allow'd us.

Your, &c.

LETTER XVII.

From the Bishop of ROCHESTER.

Bromley, May 25, 1722.

Had much ado to get hither last night, the water being fo rough that the ferry-men 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 afide between us for the future; and depend upon me as your faithful friend in all things within my power, as one that truly values you, and wishes you all manner of happiness. I thank you and Mrs. Pope for my kind reception, which has left a pleafing impreffion upon me that will not foon be effaced.

Lord has prefs'd me terribly to fee him at* and told me in a manner betwixt kindness and refentment, that it is but a few miles beyond Twiten

ham.

I have but a little time left, and a great deal to do in it; and muft expect that ill health will render a good fhare of it ufelefs; and therefore what is likely to be left at the foot of the account, ought by me to be cherish'd, and not thrown away in compliments. You know the Motto of my fundial, Vivite, ait, fugio. I will, as far as I am able, follow its advice, and cut off all unneceflary avocations and amufements. There are thofe that intend to employ me this winter in a way I do not like; If they perfift in their intentions, I must

ap

ply

ply myself to the work they cut out for me, as well as I can. But withal, that shall not hinder me from employing myself also in a way which they do not like. The givers of trouble one way fhall have their fhare of it another; that at last they may be induced to let me be quiet, and live to myfelf, with the few (the very few) friends I like; for that is the point, the fingle point, I now aim at; tho', I know, the generality of the world who are unacquainted with my intentions and views, think the very reverfe of this character belongs to me. I don't know how I have rambled into this account of myfelf; when I fat down to write, I had no thought of making that any part of my letter.

You might have been fure without my telling you, that my right hand is at eafe; elfe I fhould not have overflow'd at this rate. And yet I have not done, for there is a kind intimation in the end of yours, which I understood, becaufe it seems to tend towards employing me in fomething that is agreeable to you. Pray explain yourself, and believe that you have not an acquaintance in the world that would be more in earneft on fuch an occafion than I, for I love you, as well as esteem you.

All the while I have been writing, Pain, and a fine Thrush have been feverally endeavouring to call off my attention; but both in vain, nor fhould I yet part with you, but that the turning over a new leaf frights me a little, and makes me refolve to break thro' a new temptation, before it has taken too faft hold on me,

I am, &c.

LETTER XVIII.

From the fame.

June 15, 1722.

Y you

OU have generally written firft, after our parting; I will now be before-hand with

in my enquiries, how you got home and how you do, and whether you met with Lord *, and deliver'd my civil reproach to him, in the manner I defir'd? I fuppofe you did not, because I have heard nothing either from you, or from him on that head; as, I fuppofe, I might have done, if you had found him.

I am fick of thefe Men of quality; and the more fo, the oft'ner I have any business to tranfact with them. They look upon it as one of their diftinguishing privileges, not to be punctual in any bufinefs, of how great importance foever; nor to fet other people at eafe, with the lofs of the leaft part of their own. This conduct of his vexes me; but to what purpose? or how can I alter it?

I long to fee the original MS. of Milton: but don't know how to come at it, without your repeated affiftance.

I hope you won't utterly forget what pass'd in the coach about Samfon Agoniftes. I fhall not prefs you as to time, but fome time or other, I wish you would review, and polish that piece. If upon a new perufal of it (which I defire you to make) you think as I do, that it is written in the very spirit of the Ancients; it deferves your care, and is capable of being improved, with little trouble, into a perfect model and standard of Tragic poetry-always allowing for its being a story taken

out