no man is with more perfect acquiefcence, nay, with more willing acquiefcence, (not even any of your own fons of the church}, Your obedient, &c. LETTER XVI. From the Bishop of ROCHESTER. UND April 6, 1722. 'NDER all the leisure of the world, I have no leifare, no ftomach to write to you. The gradual approaches of death are before my eyes. I am convinced that it must be fo; and yet make a fhift to flatter myself fometimes with the thought, that it may poffibly be otherwife. And that very thought, though it is directly contrary to my reafon, does for a few moments make me eafy however, not eafy enough in good earnest to think of any thing, but the melancho ly object that employs them. Therefore wonder not that I do not answer your kind letter. I fhall answer it too foon, I fear, by accepting your friendly invitation. When I do fo, no conveniencies will be wanting for I will fee nobody but you and your mother,, and the fervants. Vifits to ftatefmen 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 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, it is 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-fhow. I have faid to Greatnefs fome VOL. V. Ꮓ time time 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 refolved, 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 will court them as much as any body: but till they refolve to distinguith 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: though I trust 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 think. ing :—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 muft diflodge; I am preparing for it: for I am this moment building a vault in the Abbey, for me and mine. It was to be in the Abbey, becaufe of my relation to the place; but it is at the weft door of it; as far from Kings and Cæfars as the fpace would admit of. I know not but I may ftep 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 privilege of franking (one of the moft valuable we have left) is again allowed 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 ferrymen were unwilling to venture. The first thing I faw this morning, after my 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 pleasing impreffion upon me that will not foon be effaced. Lord ** has preffed me terribly to fee him at ** and told me in a manner betwixt kindness and refentment, that it is but a few miles beyond Twitenham. I have but a little time left, and a great deal to do in it; and must 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 cherished, and not thrown away in compliments. You know the motto of my fun-dial, Vioite, ait, fugio. I will, as far as I am able, follow its advice, and cut off all unneceflary avocations and amufements. There are those that intend to employ me this winter in a way I do not like. If they perfit in their intentions, I must apply myself to the work they cut out for me, as well as I can. But withal, that shall not hinder me from employing myfelf alfo in a way which they do not like. The 'givers of trouble one way fhall have their fhare of it another; that at laft 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; though, I know, the generality of the world, who are unacquainted with my intentions and views, think the very reverse of this character belongs to me. I do not 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 overflowed at this rate. And yet I have not done; for there is a kind intimation in the end of yours, which I understood, because it seems to tend towards employing 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 through a new temptation, before it has taken too faft hold on me. I am, &c. LETTER XVIII. From the fame. June 15, 1722 7OU have generally written firft, after our part YOU I will trawy wefore-hand with you in my inquiries, how you got home, and how you do, and whether you met with Lord **, and delivered my civil reproach to him, in the manner I defired? 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 oftener I have any business to tranfact with them. They look upon it as one of their diftinguishing privi- leges, not to be punctual in any business, of how great: importance foever; nor to fet other people at eafe, with the lofs of the least part of their own. This conduct of his vexes me; but to what purpofe? or how can I alter it? I long to fee the original MS. of Milton: but donot know how to come at it, without your repeated affiftance. I hope you will not utterly forget what paffed in the coach about Samfon Agoniftes. I fhall not prefs you as to time; but fome time or other, I with you would review and polifh 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 fpirit 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 tory taken out of the Bible; which is an objection that at this time of day, I know, is not to be got over. I am, &c. LETTER XIX. July 27. HAVE been as conftantly at Twitenham as your Lordship has at Bromley, ever fince you faw Lord Bathurst. At the time of the Duke of Marlborough's funeral, I intend to lie at the Deanry, and moralize one evening with you on the vanity of human glory. The Duchefs's letter concerns me nearly, and you know it, who know all my thoughts without difguife. I must keep clear of flattery; I will and as this is an honeft refolution, I dare hope, your Lordship will not be fo unconcerned for my keeping it, as not to affist me in fo doing. I beg therefore you would represent thus much at least to her Grace, that as to the fear fhe feems touched with, [That the Duke's memory fhould have no advantage but what he must give himself, without being beholden to any one friend], your Lordship may certainly, and agreeably to your character, both of rigid honour and Christian plainnefs, tell her, that no man can have any other advantage; and that all offerings of friends in fuch a cafe pafs for nothing. Be but fo good as to confirm what I have reprefented to her, that an infcription in the ancient way, plain, pompous, yet modeft, will be the most uncommon, and therefore the moft diftinguishing manner of doing it. And fo, I hope, fhe will be fatisfied, the Duke's honour |