as a diverting one. He that gives you his mirth makes a much lefs present than he that gives you his heart; and true friends would rather fee fuch thoughts as they communicate only to one another, than what they fquander about to all the world. They who can fet a right value upon any thing, will prize one tender, well-meant word, above all that ever made them laugh in their lives. If I did not think so of you, I fhould never have taken much pains to endeavour to please you, by writing, or any thing else. Wit, I am fure, I want; at leaft in the degree that I fee others have it, who would at all feafons alike be entertaining; but I would willingly have fome qualities that may be (at fome feasons) of more comfort to myfelf, and of more service to my friends. I would cut off my own head, if it had nothing better than wit in it; and tear out my own heart, if it had no better difpofitions than to love only myself, and laugh at all my neighbours.

I know you will think it an agreeable thing to hear that I have done a great deal of Homer. If it be to lerable, the world may thank you for it for if I could have seen you every day, and imagined my company could have every day pleased you, I should scarce have thought it worth my while to please the world. How many verses could I gladly have left unfinished, and turned into it, for people to fay what they would of, had I been permitted to pass all thofe hours more pleasingly? Whatever fome may think, Fame is a thing I am much lefs covetous of than your Friend

hip; for that, I hope, will last all my life; the other, I cannot answer for. What if they should both grow greater after my death? alas! they would both be of no advantage to me! Therefore think upon it, and love me as well as ever you can, while I live.

Now I talk of Fame, I fend you my Temple of Fame, which is juft come out: but my fentiments about it you will fee better by this Epigram:

What's Fame with Men, by cuftom of the Nation,
Is call'd in Women only Reputation:

About them both why keep we fuch a pother?
Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other.

ALL

LETTER XVIII.

LL the pleasure or ufe of familiar letters, is to give us the affurance of a friend's welfare; at leaft 'tis all I know, who am a mortal enemy and despiser of what they call fine letters. In this view, I promise you, it will always be a fatisfaction to me to write letters and to receive them from you; because I unfeignedly have your good at my heart, and am that thing, which many people make only a subject to dif play their fine fentiments upon, a Friend: which is a character that admits of little to be faid, till fomething

may be done. Now let me fairly tell you, I don't like your ftyle: 'tis very pretty, therefore I don't like it; and if you writ as well as Voiture, I would not give a farthing for fuch letters *, unless I were to fell them to be printed. Methinks I have loft the Mrs. L* I formerly knew, who writ and talked like other people (and sometimes better). You must allow me to say, you have not faid a fenfible word in all your letter, except where you speak of fhewing kindness and expecting it in return: but the addition you make about your being but two and twenty, is again in the style of wit and abomination. To fhew you how very unfatisfactorily you write, in all your letters you've never told me how you do. Indeed I fee it was ab

folutely neceffary for me to write to you, before you continued to take more notice of me, for I ought to tell you what you are to expect; that is to fay, Kindnefs, which I never failed (I hope) to return; and not Wit, which if I want I am not much concerned, because Judgment is a better thing; and if I had, I would make use of it rather to play upon those I defpifed, than to trifle with those I loved. You fee, in fhort, after what manner you may moft agreeably write to me tell me you are my friend, and you can be no more at a lofs about that article. As I have opened

my

* Pope feems here unconsciously to have defcribed his own character as a Letter-writer. What he fays is, however, very juft and fenfible; and he would have been a more interesting writer, if he had at all times remembered his own advice.

my mind upon this to you, it may also serve for Mr. H-*, who will fee by it what manner of letters he muft expect if he corresponds with me. As I am too seriously yours and his fervant to put turns upon you inftead of good wishes, fo in return I would have nothing but honeft plain Howd'ye's and Pray remember me's; which not being fit to be fhewn to any body for wit, may be a proof we correspond only for ourselves, in mere friendliness; as doth, God is my witness,

Your, etc.

IT

LETTER XIX.†

is with infinite fatisfaction I am made acquainted that your brother will at last prove your relation, and has entertained fuch fentiments as became him in

your

I do not know to whom this is written; but it appears, the Lady, thinking she was writing to a man of wit, thought it neceffary the should endeavour to fhew her own, and was probably more unfortunate than Pope.

This Letter, which muft have been written very early, is evidently addreffed to the young Lady whofe untimely fate Pope afterwards pathetically lamented, in Verfes to an "Unfortunate Lady." This was perhaps Pope's earlieft attachment, and it has been faid the attachment was mutual, and that she was herfelt deformed. I do not think there are any grounds for believing either.

your concern. I have been prepared for this by degrees, having feveral times received from Mrs.* that which is one of the greatest pleasures, the knowledge that others entered into my own fentiments concerning you. I ever was of opinion that you wanted no more to be vindicated than to be known. As I have often condoled with you in your adverfities, so I have a right, which but few can pretend to, of congratulating on the prospect of your better fortunes: and I hope, for the future, to have the concern I have felt for you overpaid in your felicities. Though you modeftly say the world has left you, yet, I verily believe, it is coming to you again as faft as it can: for, to give the world its due, it is always very fond of Merit when 'tis past its power to oppofe it. Therefore, if you can, take it into favour again upon its repentance, and continue in it. But if you are refolved in revenge to rob the world of fo much example as you may afford it, I believe your design will be vain; for even in a monastery your devotions cannot carry you fo far toward the next world as to make this lose the fight of you; but you'll be like a star, that, while it is fixed to hea ven, fhines over all the earth.

Wherefoever Providence fhall dispose of the most valuable thing I know, I fhall ever follow you with my fincerest wishes, and my beft thoughts will be perpetually waiting upon you, when you never hear of me nor them. Your own guardian angels cannot be more conftant, nor more filent. I beg you will never

ceafe