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LETTER XVI.

FROM THE BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.

April 6, 1722.

NDER all the leisure in the world, I have no lei

fure, 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 sometimes with the thought that it may poffibly be otherwise. And that very thought, though it is directly contrary to my reason, does for a few moments make me easy--however not easy enough in good earnest to think of any thing, but the melancholy 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 conveniences will be wanting: For I'll fee nobody but you and your mother, and the fervants. Vifits to statesmen 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: When they want me, I fhall be fure to hear of them at mine. But probably they will despise me fo much, and I fhall court them fo little, that we shall both of us keep our distance.

When

When I come to you, 'tis in order to be with you only; a president of the council, or a star 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-shew. I have faid to Greatnefs* fometime ago-Tuas tibi res habeto, Egomet curabo meas. The time is not far off when we shall 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'll court them as much as any body: But till they refolve to distinguish 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 truft in God, my pride is neither of fo odious a nature as theirs, nor of so mischievous a confequence.

I know not how I have fallen into this train of thinking-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 must diflodge; I am preparing for it: For I am at this moment building a vault in the Abbey, for me and mine. 'Twas to be in the Abbey, because of my relation to the place; but 'tis at the weft door of it; as far from Kings and Cæfars as the space will admit of.

I know

* Was the good Bishop really cured of all ambitious views at this time?

I know not but I may step to town to-morrow, to fee how the work goes forward; but, if I do, I fhall return hither in the evening. I would not have given you the trouble of this letter but that they tell me it will cost you nothing, and that our privilege of franking* (one of the most valuable we have left) is again allowed us.

Your, etc.

I

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 ferry-men were unwilling to venture. The first thing I faw this morning after 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

* This is a peevish sentiment; furely more privileges were left ; or rather, what privileges were taken away?

*

Lord has preffed me terribly to see 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 useless; 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 compliment. You know the Motto of my fun-dial, Vivite, ait, fugio. I will, as far as I am able, follow its advice, and cut off all unneceffary avocations and amusements. There are those that intend to employ me this winter in a way I do not like if they perfift in their intentions, I must apply myself to the work they cut out for me, as well as I can. But withal, that fhall not hinder me from employing myself also in a way which they do not like. The givers of trouble one day shall have their share of it another; that at laft they may be induced to let me be quiet, and live to myself 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 don't know how I have rambled into this account of myself; when I fat down to write, I had no thought of making that any part of my letter.

You might have been sure without my telling you, that my right hand is at eafe; else I should 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 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 fast hold

on me.

LETTER XVIII.

FROM THE SAM E.

Í am, etc.

June 15, 1722.

ou have generally written first, after our parting;

γου

I will now be before-hand with you in my enquiries, 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