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For the two large strands just at two ends of the
the motives that I have frequently made use of to entice you
hither. And there would be no failure
the best people here, of any honours that could be done you. As to myself, I declare, my health is so uncertain, that I dare not venture amongst you at present. I hate the thoughts of London, where I am not rich enough to live otherwise than by shifting, which is now too late.
Neither can I have conveniencies in the country for three horfes and two servants, and many others, which I have here at hand. I am one of the governors of all the hackney-coaches, carts, and earriages round this town, who dare not insult me, like your rafcally waggoners or coach-men, but give me the way; nor is there one Lord or Squire for a hundred of yours, to turn me out of the road, or run over me with their coaebes and fix. Thus, I make fome advantage of the public poverty, and give you the reasons for what I once writ, why I chuse to be a freeman among Ąaves, rather than a slave among freemen. Then, I walk the streets in peace without being justled, nor ever without a thousand blesfings from my friends the vulgar. I ani Lord Mayor of 120 houses, I am absolute Lord of the greatest Cathedral in the kingdom, am at peace with the neigh
bouring Princes, the Lord Mayor of the city, and the Archbishop of Dublin, only the latter, like the K. of France, sometimes attempts encroachments oli my dominions, as old Lewis did upon Lorrain. In the midst of this raillery, I can tell you with seriousnels, that these advantages contribute to my ease, and therefore I value them. And in one part of your letter relating to my Lord Band yourself, you agree with me entirely, about the indifference, the love of quiet, the care of health, &c. that grow upon men in years. And if you discover' those inclinations in my Lord and yourself, what can you expect from me, whose health is so precarious ? and yet, at your or his time of life, I could have leap'd over the moon.
Sept. 1. 1733. Have every day wish'd to write to you, to say a.
have writ to you now, if I was not sick of writing any thing, sick of myself, and (what is worse) fick of my friends too. The world is become too busy for me; every body is so concerned for the public, that all private enjoyments are lost, or dif-relish'd. I write more to show you I am tired of this life, than to tell you any thing relating to it. I live as I did, I think as I did, I love you as I did; but all these
are to uo purpose: the world will not live, think, or love, as I do. I am troubled for, and vexed at, all my friends by turns. Here are some whom you love, and who love you: yet they receive no proofs of that af. fection from you, and they give none of it to you. There is a great gulph between. In earnest, I would go a thousand miles by land to see you, but the sea I dread. My ailments are such, that I really believe a fea-sickness (considering the oppression of colical pains, and the great weakness of my breast) would kill me: and if I did not die of that, I must of the ex. cellive eating and drinking of your hospitable town, and the excessive flattery of your most poetical country. I hate to be cramm’d, either way. Let your hungry Poets, and your rhyming Poets digest it, I cannot. I like much better to be abused and half stars ved, than to be so over.praised and over-fed. Drown Ireland! for having caught you, and for having kept you: I only reserve a little charity for her, for knowing your value, and esteeming you: You are the on. ly Patriot I know, who is not hated for serving his country. The man who drew your Character and printed it here, was not much in the wrong in many things he said of you: yet he was a very impertinent fellow, for saying them in words quite different from those you had yourself employed before on the same subject: for surely to alter your words, is to prejudice them; and I have been told, that a man himself can hardly say the same thing twice over with equal happi. bess; Nature is so much a better thing than artifice.
I have written nothing this year; It is no affectation to tell you, my Mother's loss has turned my frame of thinking. The habit of a whole life is a stronger thing than all the season in the world. I know I ought to be easy, and to be free; but I am dejected, I am confined: my whole amusement is in reviewing my past life, not in laying plans for my future. I wish you cared as little for popular applause as I ; as little for any nation, in contradistinction to others; as I: and then I fancy, you that are not afraid of the sea, you that are a stronger man at sixty than ever I was at twenty, would come and see several people who are (at lalt) like the primitive christians, of one soul and of one mind. The day is come, which I bave often wished, but never thought to see; when every mortal, that I esteem, is of the same sentiment in Politics and in Religion.
Adieu. All you love, are yours ; but all are busy, except (dear Sir) your fincere friend.
Jan. 6. 1734. Never think of you, and can never write to you, I
now, without drawing many of those fort fighs of which we have formerly talk'd: The reflection both of the friends we have been depriv'd of by Death, and of those from whom we are separated almost as
eternally by Absence, checks me to that degree, that it takes away in a manner the pleasure (which yet I · feel very sensibly too) of thinking I am now conversing with you. You have been llent to me as to your Works; whether those printed here are, or are not genuine! but one, I am fure, is yours, and your method of concealing yourself puts me in mind of the Indian bird I have read of, who hides his head in a hole, while all his feathers and tail stick out. You'll have immediately, by several frauks (even before 'tis here publithed) my Epistle to 'Lord Cobhain, part of my Opus Magnum, and the last Essay on Man, both which, I conclude, will be grateful to your bookseller, on whom you please to bestow-them so early, There is a woman's war declar'd against me by a certain Lord; his weapons are the same which women and children use, a pin to scratch, and a squirt to bespatter: I writ a sort of answer, but was alhamed to enter the lists with him, and after shewing it to some people, suppress’d it : otherwise it was such as was worthy of him and worthy of me. I was three weeks this autumn with Lord Peterborow, who rejoices in your doings, and always speaks with the greatest affection of you. I need not tell you who else do the "same ; you may be fure almost all those whom I ever see, or desire to see, I wonder not that B- paid you no sort of civility while he was in Ireland: he is too much a half-wit to love a true wit, and' too much half honest, to esteem any entire merit. I hope and think he hates me too, and I will do my