rant even of the fex, as well as fenfe, of Gorboduct.

Adieu! I am going to forget you: this minute you took up all my mind; the next I shall think of nothing but the reconciliation with Agamemnon, and the recovery of Brifeis. I fhall be Achilles's humble fervant these two months (with the good leave of all my friends.) I have no ambition so strong at prefent, as that noble one of Sir Salathiel Lovel, recorder of London, to furnish out a decent and plentiful execution, of Greeks and Trojans. It is not to be exprefs'd how heartily I wifh the death of all Homer's heroes, one after another. The Lord preserve me in the day of battle, which is juft approaching! join in your prayers for me, and know me to be always

Your, &c.

To

LETTER II.

London, March 31, 1718.

O convince you how little pain I give myself in correfponding with men of good nature and good understanding, you fee I omit to answer your letters till a time, when another

⚫ There is a correct edi- | collection of old Plays pubtion of it in that valuable lifhed by DodЛley.

man

man would be ashamed to own he had received them. If therefore you are ever moved on my account by that spirit, which I take to be as familiar to you as a quotidian ague, I mean the fpirit of goodness, pray never ftint it, in any fear of obliging me to a civility beyond my natural inclination. I dare truft you, Sir, not only with my folly when I write, but with my negligence when I do not; and expect equally your pardon for either.

If I knew how to entertain you thro' the reft. of this paper, it should be spotted and diverfified with conceits all over; you should be put. out of breath with laughter at each sentence, and pause at each period, to look back over how much wit you have paffed. But I have found by experience that people now-a-days regard writing as little as they do preaching: the most we can hope is to be heard just with decency and patience, once a week, by folks in the country. Here in town we hum over a piece of fine writing, and we whistle at a fermon. The stage is the only place we seem alive at; there indeed we ftare, and roar, and clap hands for K. George, and the government. As for all other virtues but this loyalty, they are an obfolete train, fo ill-drefs'd, that men, women, and children hifs them out

of all good company. Humility knocks fo

fneakingly

fneakingly at the door that every footman outraps it, and makes it give way to the free entrance of pride, prodigality, and vain-glory.

in

My Lady Scudamore, from having rusticated your company too long, really behaves herfelf fcandalously among us: fhe pretends to open her eyes for the fake of feeing the fun; and to fleep because it is night; drinks tea at nine in the morning, and is thought to have faid her prayers before; talks, without any man ner of fhame, of good books, and has not seen Cibber's play of the Non-juror. I rejoiced the other day to fee a libel on her toilette, which gives me fome hope that you have, at least, à taste of scandal left you, in defect of all other vices.

Upon the whole matter, I heartily wish you well; but as I cannot entirely defire the ruin of all the joys of this city, so all that remains is to wish you would keep your happiness to yourselves, that the happiest here may not die with envy at a blifs which they cannot at tain to.

I am, &c.

LETTER

LETTER III.

From Mr. DIGBY.

I Have read

your

Coleshill, April 17, 1718.

letter over and over with

delight. By your description of the town, I imagine it to lie under fome great enchant→ ment, and am very much concerned for you and all friends in it. I am the more afraid, my imagining, fince you do not fly those horrible monsters, rapine, diffimulation, and luxury, that a magic circle is drawn about you, and you cannot escape. We are here in the country in quite another world, furrounded with bleffings and pleasures, without any occafion of exercis ing our irafcible faculties; indeed we cannot boaft of good-breeding and the art of life, but yet we don't live unpleasantly in primitive fimplicity and good-humour. The fashions of the town affect us but just like a raree-show, we have a curiofity to peep at them, and nothing more. What you call pride, prodigality, and vain-glory, we cannot find in pomp and fplendor at this distance; it appears to us a fine glit tering fcene, which if we don't envy you, we think you happier than we are, in your enjoying it. Whatever you may think to perfuade us of the humility of Virtue, and her appearing

in

in rags amongst you, we can never believe our uninform'd minds represent her so noble to us, that we neceffarily annex fplendor to her : and we could as foon imagine the order of things inverted, and that there is no man in the moon, as believe the contrary. I can't forbear telling you we indeed read the spoils of Rapine as boys do the English rogue, and hug ourselves full as much over it; yet our roses are not without thorns. Pray give me the pleasure of hearing (when you are at leisure) how foon I may expect to fee the next volume of Homer.

LETTER IV.

I am, &c.

May 1, 1720.

You'll think me very full of myself, when

after long filence (which however, to fay truth, has rather been employed to contemplate of you, than to forget you) I begin to talk of my own works. I find it is in the finishing a book, as in concluding a feffion of Parliament, one always thinks it will be very foon, and finds it very late. There are many unlook'd-for incidents to retard the clearing any public account, and fo I fee it is in mine. I have plagued myself, like great minifters, with undertaking too much for one man; and with a defire

of