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had not a shirt, a coat, or any kind of apparel to put on; the sheets in which he lay were carried to the pawnbroker's, and he was obliged to be confined to bed, with no other covering than a blanket. He had little fupport but what he got by writing letters to his friends in the most abject ftile. He was perhaps afhamed to let this inftance of diftrefs be known to his friends, which might be the occafion of his remaining fix weeks in that fituation. During this time he had fome employment in writing verfes for the Magazines; and whoever had feen him in his ftudy, muft have thought the object fingular enough. He fat up in bed with the blanket wrapt about him, through which he had cut a hole large enough to admit his arm, and placing the paper upon his knee, fcribbled in the best manner he could the verses he was obliged to make: Whatever he got by thofe, or any of his begging letters, was but just fufficient for the preservation of life. And perhaps he would have remained much longer in this distressful state, had not a compaffionate gentleman, upon hearing this circumstance related, ordered his cloaths to be taken out of pawn, and enabled him to appear again abroad.

This fix weeks penance one would imagine fufficient to deter him for the future, from fuffering himself to be exposed to such diftreffes; but by a long habit of want it grew familiar to him, and as he had lefs delicacy than other men, he was perhaps lefs afflicted with his exterior meannefs. For the future, whenever his diftreffes fo prefs'd, as to induce him to difpofe of his fhirt, he fell upon an artificial method of supplying one. He cut fome

white paper in flips, which he tyed round his wrifts, and in the fame manner fupplied his neck. In this plight he frequently appeared abroad, with the additional inconvenience of want of breeches.

VOL. V. No. 23.

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He was once fent for in a hurry, to the house of a printer who had employed him to write a poem for his Magazine: Boyfe then was without breeches, or waistcoat, but was yet poffeffed of a coat, which he threw upon him, and in this ridiculous manner went to the printer's houfe; where he found feveral women, whom his extraordinary ap-` pearance obliged immediately to retire.

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He fell upon many ftrange fchemes of raising trifling fums: He fometimes ordered his wife to inform people that he was juft expiring, and by this artifice work upon their compaflion; and many of his friends were frequently furprised to meet the man in the street to day, to whom they had yefterday fent relief, as to a perfon on the verge of death. At other times he would propofe fubfcriptions for poems, of which only the beginning and conclufion were written; and by this expedient would relieve fome prefent neceffity. But as he feldom was able to put any of his poems to the prefs, his veracity in this particular fuffered a diminution; and indeed in almost every other particular he might juftly be fufpected; for if he could but gratify an immediate appetite, he cared not at what expence, whether of the reputation, or purfe of another.

About the year 1745 Mr. Boyfe's wife died. He was then at Reading, and pretended much concern when he heard of her death.

It was an affectation in Mr. Boyfe to appear very fond of a little lap-dog which he always carried about with him in his arms, imagining it gave him the air of a man of taste. Boyfe, whofe circumftances were then too mean to put himself in mourning, was yet refolved that fome part of his family fhould. He step'd into a little shop, purchased half a yard of black ribbon, which he fixed round his dog's neck by way of mourning for the lofs of its mitrefs. But this was not the only ridiculous in

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ftance of his behaviour on the death of his wife. Such was the sottishness of this man, that when he was in liquor, he always indulged a dream of his wife's being ftill alive, and would talk very spightfully of thofe by whom he suspected the was entertained. This he never mentioned however, except in his cups, which was only as often as he had money to spend. The manner of his becoming intoxicated was very particular. As he had no spirit to keep good company, fo he retired to fome obfcure alehoufe, and regaled himself with hot two-penny, which though he drank in very great quantities, yet he had never more than a pennyworth at a time. Such a practice rendered him fo compleatly fottish, that even his abilities, as an author, became fenfibly impaired.

We have already mentioned his being at Reading. His business there was to compile a Review of the most material transactions at home and abroad, during the last war; in which he has included a fhort account of the late rebellion. For this work by which he got fome reputation, he was paid by the fheet, a price fufficient to keep him from starving, and that was all. To fuch diftrefs muft that man be driven, who is deftitute of prudence to direct the efforts of his genius. In this work Mr. Boyfe discovers how capable he was of the most irksome and laborious employment, when he maintained a power over his appetites, and kept himself free from intemperance.

While he remained at Reading, he addreffed, by fupplicating letters, two Irish noblemen, lord Kenyfton, and lord Kingfland, who refided in Berkshire, and received fome money from them; he alfo met with another gentleman there of a benevolent difpofition, who, from the knowledge he had of the father, pitied the diftreffes of the fon, and by his intereft with fome eminent Diffenters in those parts, raifed a fufficient fum to cloath him,

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for the abjectness of his appearance fecluded our poet even from the table of his Printer *.

Upon his return from Reading, his behaviour was more decent than it had ever been before, and there were fome hopes that a reformation, tho' late, would be wrought upon him. He was employed by a Bookfeller to tranflate Fenelon on the Exiftence of God, during which time he married a fecond wife, a woman in low circumstances, but well enough adapted to his taste. He began now to live with more regard to his character, and fupport a better appearance than ufual; but while his circumftances were mending, and his irregular appetites lofing ground, his health vi fibly declined he had the fatisfaction, while in this lingering illness, to obferve a poem of his, entitled The Deity, recommended by two eminent writers, the ingenious Mr. Fielding, and the rev. Mr. James Harvey, author of The Meditations. The former, in the beginning of his humorous Hiftory of Tom Jones, calls it an excellent poem. Mr. Harvey ftiles it a pious and inftructive piece; and that worthy gentleman, upon hearing that the author was in neceffitous circumftances, depofited two guineas in the hands of a trufty perfon to be given him, whenever his occafions fhould prefs. This poem was written fome years before Mr. Harvey or Mr. Fielding took any notice of it, but it was loft to the public, as the reputation of the Bookfeller confifted in fending into the world abundance of trifles, amongft which, it was confidered as one. Mr. Boyfe faid, that upon its firft publication, a gentleman acquainted with Mr. Pope, took occafion to ask that poet, if he was not the

During his abode at Reading an accident had like to have put an end to his follies and his life together; for he had the ill-luck to fall from his garret down the whole flight of stairs; but being deftined to lengthen out a useless life for some time longer, he escaped with only a fevere bruifing.

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author of it, to which Mr. Pope replied, that he was not the author, but that there were many lines • in it, of which he should not be ashamed.' This Mr. Boyfe confidered as a very great compliment. The poem indeed abounds with fhining lines and elevated fentiments on the several Attributes of the Supreme Being; but then it is without a plan, or any connexion of parts, for it may be read either backwards or forwards, as the reader pleases.

While Mr. Boyfe was in this lingering illness, he feemed to have no notion of his approaching end, nor did he expect it, 'till it was almoft pait the thinking of. His mind, indeed, was often religiously difpofed; he frequently talked upon that fubject, and, probably fuffered a great deal from the remorfe of his confcience. The early impreffions of his good education were never entirely obliterated, and his whole life was a continued ftruggle between his will and reafón, as he was always violating his duty to the one, while he fell under the subjection of the other. It was in confequence of this war in his mind, that he wrote a beautiful poem called The Recantation.

In the month of May, 1749, he died in obfcure lodgings near Shoe-Lane. An old acquaintance of his endeavoured to collect money to defray the expences of his funeral, fo that the scandal of being buried by the parish might be avoided. But his endeavours were in vain, for the perfons he follicited, had been fo troubled with applications during the life of this unhappy man, that they refufed to contribute any thing towards his funeral. The remains of this fon of the mufes were, with very little ceremony, hurried away by the parish officers, and thrown amongst common beggars; though with this diftinction, that the fervice of the church was performed over his corpfe. Never was an exit more fhocking, nor a Life Spent with lefs grace, than those of Mr. Boyse,

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