that is to fay, my Paftorals, for one of them, and my Effay for the other? I would lay out all my Poetry in Love; an Original for a Lady, and a Tranflation for a Waiting-maid! Alas! what have I to do with Jane Gray, as long as Mifs Molly, Mifs Betty, or Miss Patty are in this world? Shall I write of beauties murdered long ago, when there are those at this inftant that murder me? I'll e'en compofe my own Tragedy, and the poet fhall appear in his own perfon to move compaffion: "Twill be far more effectual than Bays's entring with a rope about his neck, and the world will own, there never was a more miferable object brought upon the stage.

Now you that are à critic, pray inform me, in what manner I may connect the foregoing part of this letter with that which is to follow, according to the rules? I would willingly return Mr. Gay my thanks for the favour of his poem, and in particular for his kind mention of me; I hoped, when I heard a new Comedy had met with fuccefs upon the stage, that it had been his, to which I really with no lefs; and (had it been any way in my power) fhould have been very glad to have contributed to its introduction into the world. His verfes to Lintot * have put a whim into my head, which you are like to be troubled with in the oppofite page: take it as you find it, the production of half an hour t'other morning. I defign very foon to put a task of a more ferious nature upon you, in reviewing a piece of mine that may better deferve criticism; and by that time you have done with it, I hope to tell you in perfon with how much fidelity I am

Your, &c.

Thefe verfes are printed in Dr. Swift's, and our Au

thor's Mifcellanies.

P.

LETTERS

то

SEVERAL LADIES*.

LETTER I.

I

MADAM,

March 1, 1705.

Send you the book of rudiments of Drawing, which you were pleas'd to command, and think myself obliged to inform you at the fame time of one of the many excellencies you poffefs without knowing of them. You are but too good a Painter already; and no picture of Raphael's was ever fo beautiful, as that which you have form'd in a certain heart of my acquaintance. Indeed it was but just that the finest lines in nature fhould be drawn upon the most durable ground, and none could ever be met with, that would fo readily receive, or fo faithfully retain them, as this Heart. I may boldly fay of it, that you will not find its fellow in all the parts of the body in this book. But I muft com

*Most of these were printed without the Author's Confent, and no doubt are the fame upon which the cenfure is paffed in the Preface. "That they have too much "of a juvenile ambition of Wit, and affectation of "Gaiety." And it is pleaded in Excufe," that they were written very young, and the folly was foon

plain to you of my hand, which is an arrant traitor to my heart; for having been copying your picture from thence and from Kneller thefe three days, it has done all poffible injury to the finest face that ever was made, and to the livelieft image that ever was drawn. I have Imagination enough in your abfence, to trace fome resemblance of you; but I have been so long us'd to lofe my Judgment at the fight of you, that 'tis paft my power to correct it by the life. Your picture feems least like when placed before your eyes; and, contrary to all other pictures, receives a manifest disadvantage by being fet in the fairest light in the world. The Painters are a very vain generation, and have a long time pretended to rival nature; but to own the truth to you, fhe made fuch a finish'd piece about three and twenty years ago (I beg your pardon, Madam; I proteft, I meant but two and twenty) that 'tis in vain for them any longer to contend with her. I know you indeed made one fomething like it, betwixt five and fix years paft: 'Twas a little girl, done with abundance of spirit and life, and wants nothing but time to be an admirable piece: but, not to flatter your work, I don't think 'twill ever come up to what your father made. However I would not difcourage you; 'tis certain you have a strange happiness, in making fine things of a fudden and at a stroke, with incredible ease and pleasure.

T is too much a rule in this town, that when a

rude to her ever after. It becomes our fex to take upon us twice as much as yours allow us; by this method I may write to you moft impudently, be

cause,

cause you once answer'd me modestly; and if you fhould never do me that honour for the future, I am to think (like a true coxcomb) that your filence gives confent. Perhaps you wonder why this is address'd to you rather than to Mrs. M—, with whom I have the right of an old acquaintance, whereas you are a fine lady, have bright eyes, &c. Firft, Madam, I make choice of you rather than of your mother, because you are younger than your mother. Secondly, because I fancy you spell better, as having been at school later. Thirdly, because you have nothing to do but to write if you please, and poffibly it may keep you from employing yourself worse : it may fave fome honeft neighbouring gentleman from three or four of your peftilent glances. Caft your eyes upon paper, Madam, there you may look innocently men are feducing, books are dangerous, the amorous ones foften you, and the godly ones give you the spleen: If you look upon trees, they clasp in embraces; birds and beafts make love; the fun is too warm for your blood; the moon melts you into yielding and melancholy. Therefore I fay once more, caft your eyes upon paper, and read only fuch letters as I write, which convey no darts, no flames, but proceed from innocence of foul, and fimplicity of heart. Thank God I am an hundred miles off from thofe eyes! I would fooner truft your hand than them for doing me mischief; and tho' I doubt not fome part of the rancour and iniquity of your heart will drop into your pen, yet fince it will not attack me on a fudden and unprepar'd, fince I may have time while I break open your letter to cross myfelf and fay a Pater-nofter, I hope Providence will protect me from all you can attempt at this distance. I am told you are at this hour as handfome as an angel; for my part I have forgot your face fince two winters. You may be grown to a giantefs for all I know. I can't tell in any respect VOL. VII.

I

what

your

what fort of creature you are, only that you are a very mischievous one, whom I fhall ever pray to be defended from. But when Minifter fends me word you have the small-pox, a good many freckles, or are very pale, I will defire him to give thanks for it in your parish church; which as foon as he fhall inform me he has done, I will make you a vifit without armour : I will eat any thing you give me without fufpicion of poifon, take you by the hand without gloves, nay venture to follow you into an arbour without calling the company. This, Madam, is the top of my wishes, but how differently are our defires inclin'd! You figh out, in the ardour of your heart, Oh play-houfes, parks, operas, affemblies, London! I cry with rapture, Oh woods, gardens, rookeries, fifh-ponds, arbours! Mrs. M.

LETTER III.

To a LADY.

Written on one column of a Letter, while Lady M. wrote to the Lady's Hufband on the other.

TH

I am

HE wits would fay, that this must needs be a dull letter because it is a married one. afraid indeed you will find, what spirit there is, muft be on the fide of the wife, and the husband's part, as ufual, will prove the dulleft. What an unequal pair are put together in this fheet? in which, tho' we fin, it is you muft do penance. When you look on both fides of this paper, you may fancy that our words (according to a Scripture expreffion) are as a two-edg'd fword, whereof lady M. is the fhining blade, and I only the handle. But I can't proceed without fo far mortifying Sir Robert as to tell him, that the writes this purely in obedience to me, and

that