ty of Tragedy, which is of the greater poetry, as Dennis fays, and foil him at his other weapon, as you have done in Criticifm. Every one wonders that a genius like yours will not fupport the finking Drama; and Mr. Wilks (though, I think, his talent is Comedy) has expressed a furious ambition to fwell in your buskins. We have had a poor Comedy of Johnson's (not Ben) which held seven nights, and has got him three hundred pounds, for the town is sharp fet on new plays. In vain would I fire you by intereft or ambition, when your mind is not fufceptible of either; though your authority (arifing from the general efteem, like that of Pompey) muft infallibly affure you of fuccefs; for which in all your wishes you will be attended with thofe of

Your, etc.

LETTER XXXI.

Dec. 21, 1711.

I have not writ to you fo foon as I cught, let my writing now atone for the delay; as it will infallibly do, when you know what a facrifice I make you at this time, and that every moment my eyes are employed upon this paper, they are taken off from two of the fineft faces in the universe. But indeed 'tis fome confolation to me to reflect, that while I but write this period, I efcape fome hundred fatal darts from those unerring eyes, and about a thousand deaths or better. Now you, that delight in dying, would not once have dreamt of an abfent friend in these circumstances; you that are so nice an admirer of beauty, or (as a Critick would fay after Terence) fo elegant a Spectator of forms; you must have a fober difh of coffee, and a folitary candle at your fide, to write an VOL. V.

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epifle lucubratory to your friend; whereas I can do it as well with two pair of radiant lights, that outfhine the golden god of day and filver goddess of night, and all the refulgent eyes of the firmament.— You fancy now that Sappho's eyes are two of these my tapers, but it is no fuch matter; these are eyes that have more perfuafion in one glance than all Sappho's oratory and gefture together, let her put her body into what moving poftures fhe pleafes. Indeed, indeed, my friend, you never could have found fo improper a time to tempt me with intereft or ambition; let me but have the reputation of these in my keeping, and as for my own, let the devil, or let Dennis, take it for ever. How gladly would I give all I am worth, 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 Miss Molly, Mifs Betty, or Mifs Patty are in this world? Shall I write of beauties murdered long ago, when there are thofe at this inftant that murder me? I'll e'en compofe my own Tragedy, and the Poet shall appear in his own perfon to move compaffion: "Twill be far more effectual than Bays's entering with a rope about his neck, and the world will own, there never was a more miserable object brought upon the stage.

Now you that are a Critick, 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 wish no lefs; and (had it been any

in my power) fhould have been very glad to have

contributed to its introduction into the world. His verses 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, etc.

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

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LETTER S

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 myfelf 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 formed in a certain heart of my acquaintance. Indeed it was but just that the finest lines in nature should be drawn upon the moft 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 must complain to you of my hand, which is an arrant traitor to my heart; for having been copying your

*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 over."

picture from thence and from Kneller these three days, it has done all poffible injury to the finest face that ever was made, and to the liveliest image that ever was drawn. I have imagination enough in your abfence to trace fome resemblance of you; but I have been fo long used to lofe my judgment at the fight of you, that 'tis past my power to correct it by the life. Your picture feems leaft like when placed before your eyes; and, contrary to all other pictures, receives a manifest difadvantage 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, she made fuch a finish'd piece about three and twenty years ago (I beg your pardor, Madam; I protest 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 fpirit 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.

I am, &c.

1

LETTER II.

T is too much a rule in this town, that when a lady has once done a man a favour, he is to be 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 most impudently, because you once anfwer'd