the fruits perhaps will never ripen perfectly. The climate (under our Heaven of a Court) is but cold and uncertain; the winds rife, and the winter comes on. I find myself but little disposed to build a new house; I have nothing left but to gather up the reliques of a wreck, and look about me to see how few friends I have left. Pray, whose esteem or admiration should I defire now to procure by my writings? whose friendship or conversation to obtain by 'em? I am a man of defperate fortunes, that is, a man whose friends are dead: for I never aim'd at any other fortune than in friends. As foon as I had fent my last letter, I receiv'd a most kind one from you, expreffing great pain for my late illness at Mr. Chefelden's. I conclude you was eased of that friendly apprehenfion in a few days after you had difpatch'd yours, for mine must have reached you then. I wondered a little at your quære, who Chefelden was? It shews that the trueft merit does not travel fo far any way as on the wings of poetry; he is the most noted, and most deserving man, in the whole profeffion of Chirurgery; and has sav'd the lives of thousands by his manner of cutting for the ftone.---I am now well, or what I must call so.

I have lately seen some writings of Lord's B's, fince he went to France. Nothing can depress

1

his Genius: What ever befals him, he will still be the greatest man in the world, either in his own time, or with pofterity.

Every man you know or care for here, enquires of you, and pays you the only devoir he can, that of drinking your health. I wish you had any motive to see this kingdom. I could keep you, for I am rich, that is, I have more than I want. I can afford room for yourself and two servants; I have indeed room enough, nothing but myself at home; the kind and hearty house-wife is dead! the agreeable and instructive neighbour is gone; yet my house is inlarg'd, and the gardens extend and flourish, as knowing nothing of the guests they have loft. I have more fruit-trees and kitchen-garden than you have any thought of; nay I have good Melons and Pine-apples of my own growth. I am as much a better Gardener, as I am a worse Poet, than when you faw me: But gardening is near a-kin to Philofophy, for Tully says, Agricultura proxima fapientia. For God's fake, why should not you (that are a step higher than a Philofopher, a Divine, yet have too much grace and wit than to be a Bishop) e'en give all you have to the Poor of Ireland (for whom you have already done every thing else) so quit the place, and live and die with me? And let Tales animæ concordes be our Motto and our Epitaph.

LETTER

M

LETTER LXXXI.

From Dr. SWIFT.

Dublin, April 22, 1736.

Y common illness is of that kind which utterly disqualifies me for all converfation; I mean my Deafness; and indeed it is that only which discourageth me from all thoughts of coming to England; because I am never sure that it may not return in a week. If it were a good honest Gout, I could catch an interval, to take a voyage, and in a warm lodging get an easy chair, and be able to hear and roar among my friends. "As to what

you say of your Letters, fince you have many years of life more than I, my resolution is to " direct my Executors to fend you all your let"ters, well fealed and pacqueted, along with " some legacies mentioned in my will, and " leave them entirely to your difpofal: Thofe

things are all tied up, endors'd and locked in "a cabinet, and I have not one servant who can " properly be faid to write or read: No mor"tal shall copy them, but you shall furely " have them when I am no more." I have a little repined at my being hitherto flipped by you in your Epistles, not from any other ambition than the Title of a Friend, and in that sense I expect you shall perform your promise, if your health and leisure and inclination will permit. I deny your lofing on the fide of Poetry; I could reason against you a little from experience; you are, and will be some years to come, at the age when Invention still keeps its ground, and Judgment is at full maturity; but your subjects are much more difficult when confin'd to Verse. I am amazed to see you exhaust the whole science of Morality in so masterly a manner. Sir W. Temple said, that the loss of Friends was a Tax upon long life: It need not be very long, since you have had fo great a share, but I have not above one left: and in this Country I have only a few general companions of good nature and middling understandings. How should I know Chefelden? On your fide, men of fame start up and die before we here (at least I) know any thing of the matter. I am a little comforted with what you say of Lord B's Genius still keeping up, and preparing to appear by effects worthy of the author, and useful to the world.---Common reports have made me very uneasy about your neighbour Mr. P. It is affirmed that he hath been very near death: I love him for being a Patriot in most corrupted times, and highly esteem his excellent understanding. Nothing but but the perverse nature of my disorders, as I have above described them, and which are absolute disqualifications for converse, could hinder me from waiting on you at Twickenham, and nurfing you to Paris. In short, my Ailments amount to a prohibition, although I am, as you defcribe yourself, what I must call well, yet I have not spirits left to ride out, which (excepting walking) was my only diversion. And I must expect to decline every month, like one who lives upon his principal fum which must lessen every day; and indeed I am likewife literally almost in the same cafe, while every body owes me, and no-body pays me. Instead of a young race of Patriots on your fide, which gives me some glympse of joy, here we have the direct contrary, a race of young Dunces and Atheists, or old Villains and Monsters, whereof four fifths are more wicked and stupid than Chartres. Your wants are so few, that you need not be rich to fupply them; and my wants are so many, that a King's seven millions of guineas would not support me.

LETTER