A
Collection
of
Letters
.
Written
by
several
Eminent
Hands
.
To
Walter
Moyle
,
Esq
Dear
Sir
,
YOU
know
a
grave
Fellow
assures
us
,
that
upon
the
Cessation
of
Oracles
,
lamentable
Cries
were
heard
in
the
Air
,
proclaiming
along
the
Coasts
the
Death
of
the
Great
Pan
:
And
have
not
you
upon
this
Dearth
of
good
Sence
,
and
this
Cessation
of
Wit
!
tell
me
truly
;
have
not
you
heard
These
Sounds
upon
the
Cornish
Shore
,
The
Sage
,
Will
.
Ur.
—
is
no
more
?
Gone
is
the
Universal
Lord
of
WIT
!
He
to
whom
all
the
Wits
paid
Homage
;
For
whom
his
Subjects
set
a
Tax
upon
Words
,
and
laid
exorbitant
Customs
on
Thoughts
:
He
's
dead
;
alas
,
he
's
dead
!
Dead
,
I
mean
,
Sir
,
in
a
legal
Capacity
;
that
is
,
Outlaw'd
and
gone
into
the
Fryars
;
to
go
into
which
,
is
once
more
to
Outlaw
himself
:
He
has
done
it
,
Sir
,
and
ill
Fortune
has
brought
him
to
be
a
Felo
de
se
that
way
.
For
since
the
Law
thought
it
but
just
to
put
Will
out
of
its
Protection
,
Will
thought
it
but
prudent
to
put
himself
out
of
its
Power
.
And
since
the
Law
could
use
him
with
so
much
Contempt
,
as
to
declare
to
all
the
World
that
it
does
not
care
for
Will
.
Vr
—
;
Will
,
who
is
extreamly
stout
in
Adversity
,
has
declar'd
,
by
his
Actions
,
That
he
does
not
care
for
the
Law
.
Virgil
tells
us
in
his
Sixth
Book
,
that
the
Souls
in
Hell
were
busied
about
the
same
things
in
which
they
were
employed
upon
Earth
;
even
so
does
Sage
Will
use
the
same
Nutmeg-grater
,
and
the
same
Tea-pot
in
the
Fryars
,
that
he
handled
before
in
Bowstreet
.
Thus
has
he
left
the
Wits
,
without
any
Sorrow
,
tho'
he
loves
them
,
and
without
taking
any
Leave
of
them
.
For
Will
thinks
they
cannot
be
long
from
him
;
and
he
says
,
he
expects
that
in
a
very
little
time
his
Old
Company
should
be
constant
at
his
New
House
.
And
dost
not
thou
think
that
they
too
have
reason
to
expect
the
very
same
thing
?
For
as
the
Death
of
any
Man
ought
to
put
all
his
Friends
in
mind
,
that
he
went
before
but
to
lead
them
the
way
;
so
Will
's
Departure
from
this
miserable
Life
,
this
lewd
Covent-garden
Life
,
and
his
Ferrying
from
Somerset-stairs
to
the
infernal
Shore
of
Alsatia
,
should
be
a
Memento
to
the
rest
of
the
Wits
,
that
he
is
but
gone
whither
they
all
must
follow
.
To
leave
off
Poetical
Similies
,
this
Body
Politick
is
in
a
cursed
Condition
;
and
cannot
keep
long
together
without
a
Head
.
The
Members
are
at
present
in
a
grave
Debate
how
to
get
one
.
To
Morrow
the
Whole
House
will
resolve
it self
into
a
grand
Committee
,
to
consult
about
Ways
and
Means
of
making
Provission
for
the
Common
Necessities
.
Some
talk
of
an
Excise
upon
May-dew
,
and
Rasberry-brandy
:
That
there
will
be
a
Poll
,
is
strongly
asserted
,
in
which
every
Man
is
to
pay
according
to
his
respective
Condition
.
To
Morrow
it
will
be
known
to
how
much
each
Man
's
Quota
amounts
.
As
for
Example
:
How
much
a
Poet
is
to
pay
,
how
much
a
Wit
,
how
much
a
Politician
,
and
how
much
a
Critick
.
A
Critick
,
did
I
say
?
I
beg
your
Pardon
:
They
have
voted
Nemine
Contradicente
,
that
they
will
Cess
no
Critick
till
Mr.
Moyle
returns
.
I
have
given
them
my
Sentiments
upon
the
forementioned
Poll
,
which
were
,
That
it
was
something
hard
to
make
a
Man
pay
for
being
call'd
,
Wit
,
Poet
,
or
Critick
;
That
they
saw
by
Experience
lately
in
the
State
,
that
poor
Dogs
grumbled
to
pay
for
their
Titles
.
How
then
could
they
think
that
People
would
be
contented
to
be
tax'd
for
their
Nick-names
?
That
in
setling
this
Tax
they
were
to
take
a
quite
contrary
Method
,
to
that
which
was
taken
upon
setling
a
Tax
in
the
State
.
That
in
the
State
,
sometimes
a
Man
paid
for
what
he
really
had
;
As
for
Example
,
when
a
Country
'
Sqnire
paid
for
his
Land
or
his
Money
;
and
sometimes
for
what
he
really
had
not
,
as
when
a
Cit
that
is
twice
dub'd
,
Knight
by
the
King
,
and
Cuckold
by
his
Wife
,
pays
for
his
Honour
,
and
for
his
Children
.
The
First
of
which
is
but
as
it
were
his
,
for
it
is
really
the
King
's
;
and
the
Second
of
which
are
but
as
it
were
his
,
for
they
are
really
the
Courtier
's
who
help'd
him
to
his
Title
.
In
the
State
too
a
Man
is
made
to
pay
for
something
which
he
does
,
or
for
something
which
he
does
not
.
As
a
Jacobite
pays
so
much
for
Swearing
when
he
's
Drunk
,
and
so
much
more
for
not
Swearing
when
he
's
Sober
.
But
that
in
our
Case
,
if
we
would
be
exactly
Just
,
we
should
make
People
pay
neither
for
what
they
have
,
nor
for
what
they
have
not
;
nor
for
what
they
do
,
nor
for
what
they
do
not
;
But
should
oblige
them
to
pay
only
for
pretending
to
have
what
they
really
have
not
,
or
for
offering
to
do
,
what
they
are
utterly
incapable
of
doing
.
That
thus
the
Tax
would
certainly
fall
upon
the
most
solvent
Part
of
the
Body
.
For
how
ridiculous
would
it
be
to
Tax
a
Man
for
having
Poetry
and
Wit
,
when
they
are
almost
always
signs
,
that
he
has
not
a
Farthing
to
pay
?
On
the
other
side
,
how
absurd
would
it
be
to
tax
him
for
a
bare
Want
of
those
Qualities
?
since
when
a
Man
is
Dull
without
Pretending
,
't
is
ten
to
one
but
he
is
Poor
,
for
Riches
make
Men
vain
,
and
Vanity
makes
them
affected
.
But
he
who
is
not
much
at
his
ease
,
is
hardly
at
leisure
for
Affection
;
and
I
have
often
seen
,
that
when
Vanity
has
thrown
a
Fop
out
of
Nature
,
Necessity
has
brought
him
back
again
:
But
a
rich
Rogue
will
be
sure
to
be
always
Pretending
.
Fortune
takes
pleasure
in
making
those
Vain
,
whom
Nature
before
made
Impotent
,
and
both
of
them
often
conspire
to
finish
a
Coxcomb
.
Thus
I
would
have
none
pay
,
but
they
who
put
Gravity
upon
us
for
Wisdom
,
Visions
for
Politicks
,
and
Quibbles
for
Wit
;
and
I
would
have
no
Man
at
any
Expence
for
being
call'd
a
Poet
,
a
Wit
,
or
a
Critick
,
unless
it
be
by
himself
.
It
would
be
equally
hard
to
lay
a
Tax
upon
any
one
,
for
his
Ill
Fortune
,
or
for
his
Ill
Nature
,
since
they
are
things
of
which
no
Man
is
Master
.
But
what
?
A
Sot
cannot
help
his
Vanity
.
Agreed
:
But
then
it
makes
him
so
much
happier
than
he
deserves
to
be
,
that
he
may
well
be
contented
to
pay
for
it
.
I
am
your
most
humble
Servant
,
JOHN
DENNIS
.
To
Mr.
Wycherley
,
at
Cleve
,
near
Shrewsbury
.
Sir
,
WHile
I
venture
to
write
these
Lines
to
you
,
I
take
it
to
be
my
Interest
not
to
consider
you
,
as
I
hitherto
always
have
done
,
and
as
for
the
future
I
always
shall
,
viz.
As
Mr.
Wycherley
,
as
the
greatest
Comick-wit
that
ever
England
bred
,
as
a
Man
sent
purposely
into
the
World
,
to
Charm
the
Ears
of
the
wittiest
Men
,
and
to
ravish
the
Hearts
of
the
most
beautiful
Women
:
No
,
Sir
,
that
in
writing
to
you
I
may
assume
some
Spirit
,
I
shall
at
present
only
consider
you
as
the
humble
Hermit
at
Cleve
;
Humble
even
in
the
full
Possession
of
all
those
extraordinary
Qualities
,
the
knowledge
of
which
has
made
me
Proud
.
I
must
confess
,
that
I
have
no
great
Opinion
of
that
which
Men
generally
call
Humility
.
Humility
in
most
Men
is
want
of
Heat
;
't
is
Phlegm
,
't
is
Impotence
,
't
is
a
wretched
Necessity
,
of
which
they
who
lie
under
it
,
vainly
endeavour
to
make
a
Virtue
.
But
in
a
Man
of
Mr.
Wycherley's
Make
,
't
is
Choice
,
't
is
Force
of
Mind
,
't
is
a
good
,
't
is
a
generous
Condescension
.
And
what
Force
of
Mind
is
there
not
requisite
to
bend
back
a
Soul
by
perpetual
Reflection
,
which
would
be
always
rising
,
and
eternally
aspiring
by
virtue
of
its
in-born
Fire
?
Yet
yours
,
notwithstanding
all
its
Power
,
cannot
wholly
depress
its
self
,
nor
descend
in
every
part
of
it
.
At
the
time
that
your
Will
vouchsafes
to
stoop
,
your
Understanding
soars
;
your
Writings
are
as
bold
as
your
Conversation
is
modest
,
(
though
those
are
bold
,
as
this
is
modest
with
Judgment
)
and
he
who
would
do
you
Justice
,
must
needs
confess
,
that
you
are
a
very
ambitious
Writer
,
though
a
very
humble
Man
.
Yet
your
very
Ambition
has
oblig'd
Mankind
:
It
has
exalted
Humane
Nature
,
in
raising
your
own
by
its
most
noble
Efforts
;
and
that
without
boasting
Preheminence
.
And
surely
it
must
be
for
this
very
reason
that
we
feel
a
secret
Pride
,
when
we
but
read
the
Discoveries
which
you
have
made
.
Thus
I
cannot
say
what
you
are
without
Vanity
,
for
never
was
Man
exempt
from
it
;
but
I
can
say
,
that
you
have
made
use
even
of
Vanity
to
humble
you
by
way
of
Reflection
,
and
that
you
have
avoided
that
dangerous
Effect
of
it
,
Vain-glory
,
the
Rock
upon
which
several
great
Wits
before
you
have
been
seen
to
split
.
For
you
have
always
wisely
considered
,
that
Vain-glory
in
the
Vulgar
may
be
supportable
,
nay
may
be
diverting
;
but
that
in
great
Men
it
must
be
intollerable
.
That
whereas
in
the
First
't
is
want
of
Discernment
,
't
is
Folly
,
't
is
the
Extravagance
and
Blindness
of
Self-love
;
in
the
Last
,
't
is
Crime
,
't
is
Malice
,
't
is
a
secret
and
proud
Design
to
Mortifie
and
Insult
over
the
rest
of
Men
,
over
whom
they
have
so
much
advantage
;
That
it
is
for
this
very
reason
,
that
we
so
deeply
resent
and
so
severely
revenge
the
mortal
Affronts
we
receive
from
it
.
Great
Wits
were
by
Heaven
predestin'd
to
Rule
,
to
rule
the
Minds
of
others
,
the
noblest
Empire
;
but
when
they
grow
outwardly
Vain
they
grow
Tyrants
,
and
then
their
discontented
Subjects
rebel
,
and
then
they
despose
those
Kings
as
Usurpers
,
whom
before
they
obey'd
as
their
lawful
Monarchs
.
But
a
moderate
,
a
good
,
and
a
gracious
Prince
,
like
you
,
commands
their
Hearts
as
well
as
their
Understandings
,
and
under
one
whom
they
love
so
well
,
they
grow
as
proud
,
as
they
are
pleas'd
to
obey
.
Our
violent
Inclinations
make
us
belong
to
you
,
and
therefore
't
is
the
Interest
even
of
our
Pride
,
that
you
should
long
continue
in
the
Place
which
your
extraordinary
Desert
has
attain'd
.
Did
we
nothing
but
esteem
you
as
much
as
we
do
,
we
should
certainly
envy
you
;
if
we
did
not
hate
you
;
for
bare
Esteem
is
always
forc'd
upon
us
,
whereas
Inclination
is
much
more
voluntary
:
Besides
,
as
a
judicious
French
Man
observes
,
Esteem
is
foreign
,
and
comes
from
abroad
,
and
is
therefore
received
with
Grumbling
;
but
Inclination
is
our
own
,
and
born
in
our
Breasts
,
and
is
therefore
Caress'd
and
Cherish'd
.
I
might
add
,
That
upon
this
account
,
it
is
hard
to
wish
well
to
those
whom
we
very
much
esteem
,
if
they
have
not
likewise
the
Skill
to
make
themselves
be
belov'd
;
because
barely
to
esteem
depresses
the
Spirits
,
as
much
as
to
love
very
much
exalts
them
;
it
brings
the
Soul
〈◊〉
languid
Temper
,
and
gives
it
at
once
〈◊〉
horrid
Views
of
another's
Excellencies
,
and
of
its
own
Infirmities
;
but
Affection
gives
it
Agitation
and
Warmth
;
and
in
the
View
of
a
Friend's
Desert
,
it
takes
too
much
Pleasure
,
and
too
much
Pride
to
consider
its
own
Defects
.
'T
is
true
,
that
you
are
esteemed
at
this
high
Rate
,
you
owe
to
your
Wit
and
your
Penetration
;
but
that
you
are
esteem'd
without
Envy
,
that
you
are
with
Joy
and
Gladness
esteem'd
,
you
owe
to
this
,
that
while
the
force
of
your
Fancy
and
Judgment
makes
all
the
World
admire
you
,
you
remain
yourself
unmov'd
by
it
;
that
while
your
Excellence
fills
all
Mouths
but
yours
,
you
alone
appear
to
be
unacquainted
with
it
.
Thus
while
by
the
Merit
of
your
extraordinary
Qualities
,
you
are
known
to
surpass
all
others
,
it
plainly
appears
that
you
have
beyond
all
this
a
Greatness
of
Soul
,
from
whence
you
look
down
on
your
own
Merit
.
An
infallible
Sign
that
the
Talants
which
we
admire
in
you
are
no
Illusions
,
but
real
things
,
things
that
were
born
with
you
,
and
have
been
improv'd
by
you
,
and
which
you
have
not
acquir'd
:
For
Men
are
found
to
be
Vainer
,
upon
the
account
of
those
Qualities
which
they
fondly
believe
they
have
,
than
of
those
which
they
really
have
;
and
Hereditary
Greatness
gives
Men
〈◊〉
to
be
humble
,
whereas
Preferment
occasions
Pride
.
None
but
such
real
Greatness
as
yours
can
capacitate
a
Man
to
be
truly
humble
;
for
the
Soul
,
which
by
Nature
is
not
seated
high
,
can
hardly
be
said
to
descend
.
If
I
have
insisted
too
long
on
this
shining
Subject
,
a
Subject
which
is
so
conspicuous
in
you
;
if
you
look
upon
this
tedious
Letter
,
as
one
of
those
various
Persecutions
which
every
eminent
Virtue
provokes
;
I
desire
you
to
consider
,
that
I
have
so
many
Obligations
to
this
very
Humility
,
that
I
look'd
upon
my self
as
oblig'd
by
Gratitude
to
say
as
much
as
I
have
done
.
For
to
what
I
owe
the
Happiness
which
I
have
frequently
received
in
your
Conversation
;
to
that
I
owe
the
present
Satisfaction
which
your
Permission
to
write
to
you
gives
me
;
and
to
that
I
am
indebted
for
the
Hopes
of
your
Answers
;
when
I
have
received
them
I
shall
then
believe
what
you
were
pleas'd
to
tell
me
when
I
saw
you
last
,
that
you
are
much
more
Humble
in
the
clear
Air
on
your
Mountain
at
Cleve
,
than
when
you
are
in
Fog
and
sulphurous
Smoke
in
Bow-street
.
But
at
the
same
time
,
the
Satisfaction
of
thinking
that
Distance
does
not
make
you
forget
me
,
will
render
him
very
Proud
,
who
is
at
present
,
Sir
,
your
very
humble
Servant
,
JOHN
DENNIS
.
Mr.
Wycherley's
Answer
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
Dear
Sir
,
YOu
have
found
a
way
to
make
me
satisfyed
with
my
Absence
from
London
;
nay
,
what
is
more
,
with
the
Distance
which
is
now
betwixt
you
and
me
.
That
indeed
uses
to
lessen
Friendship
,
but
gives
me
the
greater
Mark
of
yours
by
your
kind
Letter
which
I
had
miss'd
if
I
had
been
nearer
to
you
:
So
that
I
,
who
receive
no
Rents
here
,
yet
must
own
if
I
did
,
I
cou'd
not
receive
greater
Satisfaction
than
I
had
from
yours
,
worth
even
a
Letter
of
Exchange
,
or
Letters
Pattents
;
For
I
value
your
Friendship
more
than
Money
,
and
am
prouder
of
your
Approbation
than
I
should
be
of
Titles
:
For
the
having
the
good
Opinion
of
one
who
knows
Mankind
so
well
,
argues
some
Merit
in
me
,
upon
which
every
Man
ought
to
consider
himself
more
,
than
upon
the
Goods
of
Fortune
.
I
had
rather
be
thought
your
Friend
in
proof
of
my
Judgment
and
good
Sense
,
than
a
Friend
to
the
Muses
;
and
had
rather
have
you
than
them
thought
mine
.
If
I
am
as
you
say
,
at
once
Proud
and
Humble
,
't
is
since
I
have
known
I
have
had
the
Honour
to
please
you
;
tho'
your
Praise
rather
humbles
than
makes
me
(
tho'
a
damn'd
Poet
)
more
Vain
.
for
it
is
so
great
,
that
it
rather
seems
the
Railery
of
a
witty
Man
,
than
the
Sincerity
of
a
Friend
;
and
rather
proves
the
Copiousness
of
your
own
Invention
,
than
justifies
the
Fertility
of
mine
.
But
I
fear
I
am
forfeiting
the
Character
of
the
Plain-dealer
with
you
;
and
seem
like
vain
Women
or
vainer
Men
,
to
refuse
Praise
,
but
to
get
more
;
and
so
by
returning
your
Compliments
,
shew
my self
grateful
out
of
Interest
,
as
Knaves
are
punctual
in
some
Payments
,
but
to
augment
their
Credit
.
And
for
your
Praise
of
my
Humility
,
(
the
only
Mark
of
my
Knowledge
,
since
it
is
a
Mark
of
my
knowing
my self
,
)
you
have
prais'd
that
to
its
Destruction
,
and
have
given
me
so
much
,
you
have
left
me
none
.
like
those
Admirers
who
praise
a
young
Maid's
Modesty
till
they
deprive
her
of
it
.
But
let
me
tell
you
,
't
is
not
to
my
Humility
that
you
owe
my
Friendship
,
but
to
my
Ambition
,
since
I
can
have
no
greater
than
to
be
esteem'd
by
you
,
and
the
World
,
your
Friend
,
and
to
be
known
to
all
Mankind
for
,
Dear
Sir
,
your
humble
Servant
,
W.
WYCHERLEY
.
POSTSCRIPT
.
My
Dear
Friend
,
I
Have
no
way
to
shew
my
Love
to
you
in
my
Absence
,
but
by
my
Jealousie
:
I
would
not
have
my
Rivals
in
your
Friendship
the
C—s
,
the
D
—
s
,
the
W
—
s
,
and
the
rest
of
your
Tavern-friends
enjoy
your
Conversation
while
I
cannot
:
Tho'
,
I
confess
,
't
is
to
their
Interest
to
make
you
dumb
with
Wine
,
that
they
may
be
heard
in
your
Company
;
tho'
it
were
more
the
Demonstration
of
their
Wit
to
hear
you
,
than
to
be
heard
by
you
.
For
my
own
part
,
I
am
ambitious
of
your
Company
alone
in
some
Solitude
,
where
you
and
I
might
be
all
one
.
For
I
am
sure
if
I
can
pretend
to
any
Sence
,
I
can
have
no
Instruction
or
Satisfaction
of
Life
,
better
than
your
Example
and
your
Society
.
My
Service
pray
,
to
all
my
Friends
;
that
is
,
to
all
yours
whom
I
know
:
and
be
charitable
(
as
often
as
you
can
)
to
the
Absent
;
which
you
good
Wits
seldom
are
;
I
mean
be
charitable
with
your
Letters
to
Your
humble
Servant
.
POSTSCRIPT
.
PRay
let
me
have
more
of
your
Letters
,
tho'
they
would
rally
me
with
Compliments
undeserv'd
as
your
last
has
done
;
for
like
a
Country
Esquire
,
I
am
in
love
with
a
Town
Wit
's
Conversation
,
tho'
it
be
but
at
a
Distance
that
I
am
forced
to
have
it
,
and
tho'
it
abuses
me
while
I
enjoy
it
.
To
Mr.
Wycherley
.
Dear
Sir
,
NOT
long
after
I
writ
my
last
to
you
,
I
was
hurried
up
to
Town
by
a
kind
of
a
Cholick
,
which
was
ended
in
a
Destruction
upon
one
of
my
Feet
.
You
know
,
Sir
,
a
Defluction
is
a
general
name
which
some
pleasant
French
Men
have
given
an
Infant
Gout
,
too
young
to
be
yet
baptiz'd
.
But
tho'
the
Distemper
rag'd
in
each
Hand
,
I
would
in
spight
of
it
,
answer
your
admirable
Letter
,
a
Letter
which
I
had
certainly
known
to
be
yours
,
tho'
it
had
been
sent
me
without
a
Name
,
nay
and
transcrib'd
by
a
Chancery-Clerk
in
his
own
hideous
manner
of
Copying
.
But
I
must
confess
I
was
surpriz'd
to
hear
you
say
in
it
,
that
you
took
the
Sincerity
of
a
Man
who
so
much
esteems
you
for
Railery
,
yet
tho'
you
declare
it
,
you
can
never
believe
it
.
I
am
willing
to
believe
you
exceeding
humble
;
but
you
can
never
be
humble
to
that
degree
,
unless
your
Mind
,
which
resembles
your
Eye
,
in
its
Clearness
,
its
Liveliness
,
and
in
its
piercing
Views
,
should
be
also
like
it
in
this
,
that
plainly
discerning
all
things
else
,
it
wants
a
sight
of
it self
;
but
in
this
it
does
not
resemble
it
:
For
it
beholds
it self
by
Reflections
,
and
like
a
lovely
Maid
at
her
Glass
,
is
charm'd
with
the
sight
of
its
own
Beauty
.
This
is
a
sight
in
which
you
take
Pride
as
well
as
Pleasure
;
but
yours
I
must
confess
is
a
guiltless
Pride
,
it
being
nothing
but
first
Motion
,
which
it
is
impossible
for
Man
to
avoid
.
You
have
both
the
Force
to
subdue
it
immediately
,
and
the
Art
and
Goodness
to
conceal
it
from
us
.
That
it
plainly
appears
from
what
I
have
said
,
that
you
do
not
believe
I
had
any
design
to
rally
you
.
I
am
confident
that
through
all
my
Letter
there
appears
an
Air
of
Sincerity
.
But
that
is
a
Virtue
which
has
been
so
long
and
so
peculiarly
yours
,
that
you
may
perhaps
be
jealous
of
it
in
your
Friends
,
and
disclaim
some
Virtues
which
they
commend
in
you
only
to
Monopolize
that
.
You
had
given
me
,
at
least
an
occasion
to
think
so
,
if
the
Railery
in
yours
had
not
been
so
very
apparent
,
that
even
I
had
Eyes
to
discern
that
you
have
been
to
blame
in
it
,
tho'
I
am
doubly
blinded
with
Love
of
you
and
my self
.
Yet
if
you
writ
it
with
a
design
to
Mortifie
me
,
assure
your self
that
I
shall
fortifie
my
Vanity
with
that
very
Artillery
with
which
you
have
begun
to
attack
it
.
If
Mr.
Wycherley
rallies
me
,
it
is
certain
that
I
have
my
Defects
;
but
it
is
full
as
certain
,
that
he
would
never
condescend
to
abuse
me
at
such
a
distance
if
he
wholly
despis'd
me
.
Thus
,
Sir
,
you
see
I
am
as
reasonable
with
my
Friend
,
as
a
Russian
Spouse
is
with
her
Husband
,
and
take
his
very
Railery
for
a
Mark
of
Esteem
,
as
she
does
a
Beating
for
a
Proof
of
Affection
.
The
very
worst
of
your
Qualities
gain
our
Affections
:
Even
your
Jealousie
is
very
obliging
,
which
it
could
never
be
unless
it
were
very
groundless
.
But
since
your
very
Suspicion
is
obliging
,
what
influence
must
your
Kindness
have
on
our
Souls
?
The
Wish
that
I
were
with
you
in
some
Retirement
,
is
engaging
to
that
degree
,
that
I
almost
repent
that
I
so
eagerly
desir'd
your
Conversation
before
.
For
if
it
were
possible
I
would
augment
that
Desire
as
a
grateful
Return
to
yours
.
To
be
with
you
in
Solitude
would
make
me
perfectly
happy
.
Tho'
it
were
in
the
Orcades
,
I
would
not
wish
my self
remov'd
to
any
happier
Climate
;
no
,
not
even
to
that
which
contain'd
my
absent
Mistress
;
all
that
I
could
do
for
her
on
that
occasion
,
would
be
to
wish
her
with
me
.
In
that
Retirement
what
should
I
not
enjoy
?
Where
I
should
be
admirably
instructed
without
Trouble
,
and
infinitely
delighted
without
Vice
,
where
I
should
be
glorious
at
once
with
Envy
and
Quiet
.
For
what
could
be
more
glorious
,
than
to
be
the
Companion
of
your
Retreat
!
My
very
Ambition
instructs
me
to
love
such
Solitude
.
Tho'
,
properly
speaking
,
there
can
be
no
Solitude
where
you
reside
:
Immortal
Company
still
attends
you
,
and
the
Virtues
,
the
Graces
,
and
the
Charming
Nine
,
who
love
the
Groves
,
and
are
fond
of
you
,
follow
you
to
remotest
Retirements
.
The
Comick
Muse
is
more
particularly
yours
;
and
it
is
your
peculiar
Praise
to
allure
the
most
Ravishing
of
all
the
Sisters
after
you
into
Retirement
:
To
make
that
Goddess
forsake
the
Crowd
with
you
,
who
loves
it
most
of
the
Nine
:
You
have
been
constantly
her
Darling
,
her
best
Belov'd
.
Thus
in
Retirement
with
her
and
you
,
I
should
have
the
Conversation
of
Mankind
;
I
should
enjoy
it
with
all
its
Advantages
,
without
its
least
Inconveniencies
.
In
the
Philosophy
of
your
Actions
and
Words
,
I
should
see
the
Wise
,
the
Good
,
and
the
truly
Great
;
in
your
Observations
,
and
in
your
Railery
,
the
Men
of
Sence
,
and
the
Men
of
Wit
;
and
in
your
Satyr
,
severely
pleasant
,
the
Fools
and
Rascals
expos'd
by
it
.
In
the
Postscript
to
my
last
,
I
made
an
Apology
for
usurping
a
Style
so
foreign
from
this
way
of
Writing
.
I
have
once
more
run
into
the
same
Fault
in
this
,
but
the
very
Thought
of
Mr.
Wycherley
spreads
a
generous
Warmth
thro'
me
,
and
raises
my
Soul
to
Rapture
.
And
when
a
Man
writes
,
his
Soul
and
his
Style
of
necessity
rise
together
.
In
my
next
I
have
something
with
which
I
must
trouble
you
,
that
will
require
another
manner
of
Writing
.
I
am
,
&c.
To
Mr.
Wycherley
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Have
been
very
ill
ever
since
I
took
my
Leave
of
you
,
so
that
I
parted
in
one
Night
from
all
that
I
value
most
,
that
is
,
from
my
Health
and
you
.
However
,
Nature
was
kind
in
not
failing
to
supply
me
with
Vigour
,
till
Fortune
had
depriv'd
me
of
your
Conversation
,
and
I
was
got
amongst
People
with
whom
I
small
occasion
for
Vigour
.
Yet
even
here
in
spight
of
Sickness
and
Absence
I
have
made
a
shift
to
Converse
with
you
:
For
I
thought
that
your
Works
were
the
only
things
that
could
make
me
full
Amends
for
the
Loss
of
your
Company
:
By
them
you
have
been
able
to
give
me
Joy
even
in
the
midst
of
my
Pain
.
For
,
the
Country
Wife
,
and
the
Plain
Dealer
are
Stores
of
Delight
,
which
you
have
laid
up
by
a
noble
Charity
,
to
supply
the
Poor
in
Spirit
thro'
all
Posterity
.
So
that
I
believe
that
to
be
one
of
the
Reasons
of
Fortune's
Pique
to
you
,
that
you
have
put
it
out
of
her
Power
for
the
time
to
come
,
to
prosecute
her
Quarrel
to
Men
of
Sence
effectually
:
for
by
having
recourse
to
you
in
your
Works
,
they
are
sure
to
become
more
happy
than
.
Fools
,
even
at
the
time
when
they
are
less
successful
.
But
I
can
hold
up
my
Head
no
longer
at
present
,
as
soon
as
I
am
better
you
may
expect
a
longer
Letter
from
me
.
I
am
yours
,
&c.
Mr.
Wycherley
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Have
received
yours
of
the
20th
of
November
,
and
am
glad
to
find
by
it
,
that
however
your
Friends
are
Losers
by
your
Absence
from
the
Town
,
you
are
a
Gainer
by
it
;
of
your
Health
,
which
every
one
you
have
left
behind
you
,
(
but
Ch
—
)
may
be
thought
a
Friend
to
:
and
the
more
each
Man
is
your
Friend
,
the
more
he
is
satisfy'd
with
pour
Absence
,
which
tho'
it
makes
us
ill
for
want
of
you
,
makes
you
well
for
want
of
us
:
your
taking
no
Leave
of
me
(
which
you
would
excuse
)
I
take
to
be
one
of
the
greatest
Kindnesses
you
ever
shew'd
me
;
for
I
could
no
more
see
a
Departing
Friend
from
the
Town
,
than
a
Departing
Friend
from
this
Life
;
and
sure
't
is
as
much
Kindness
and
good
Breeding
to
steal
from
our
Friends
Society
unknown
to
'em
,
(
when
we
must
leave
'em
to
their
Trouble
)
as
it
is
to
steal
out
of
a
Room
,
after
a
ceremonious
Visit
,
to
prevent
Trouble
to
him
,
whom
we
would
Oblige
and
Respect
;
so
that
your
last
Fault
(
as
you
call
it
)
is
like
the
rest
of
your
Faults
,
rather
an
Obligation
than
an
Offence
;
tho'
the
greatest
Injury
indeed
you
can
do
your
Friends
,
is
to
leave
'em
against
their
Will
,
which
you
must
needs
do
.
You
tell
me
you
converse
with
me
in
my
Writings
,
I
must
confess
then
you
suffer
a
great
deal
for
me
in
my
Absence
,
which
(
tho'
I
would
have
you
love
me
)
I
would
not
have
you
do
;
but
for
your
truer
Diversion
,
pray
change
my
Country
Wife
for
a
better
of
your
own
in
the
Country
,
and
exercise
your
own
Plain
Dealing
there
,
then
you
will
make
your
Country
'
Squire
better
Company
,
and
your
Parson
more
sincere
in
your
Company
than
his
Pulpit
,
or
in
his
Cups
:
But
when
you
talk
of
Store
of
Delights
you
find
in
my
Plain
Dealer
,
you
cease
to
be
one
;
and
when
you
commend
my
Country
Wife
,
you
never
were
more
a
Courtier
;
and
I
doubt
not
but
you
will
like
your
next
Neighbour's
Country
Wife
better
than
you
do
mine
,
that
you
may
pass
your
time
,
better
than
you
can
do
with
my
Country
Wife
;
and
like
her
Innocence
more
than
her
Wit
,
since
Innocence
is
the
better
Bawd
to
Love
;
but
enjoy
my
Wife
and
welcome
in
my
Absence
,
I
shall
take
it
as
civilly
as
a
City
Cuckold
:
I
was
sorry
to
find
by
you
that
your
Head
ak'd
whilst
you
writ
me
your
Letter
;
since
I
fear
't
was
from
Reading
my
Works
(
as
you
call
them
)
not
from
your
own
Writing
,
which
never
gave
you
Pain
,
tho'
it
would
to
others
to
Imitate
it
.
I
've
given
your
Service
to
your
Friends
at
the
Rose
,
who
,
since
your
Absence
,
own
they
ought
not
to
go
for
the
Witty
Club
;
nor
is
Will
's
the
Wits
Coffee-house
any
more
,
since
you
left
it
,
whose
Society
,
for
want
of
yours
,
is
grown
as
Melancholy
,
that
is
,
as
dull
as
when
you
left
them
a
Nights
,
to
their
own
Mother-wit
,
their
Puns
,
Couplets
,
or
Quibbles
;
therefore
expect
not
a
Witty
Letter
from
any
of
them
,
no
more
than
from
me
,
since
they
,
nor
I
have
conversed
with
you
these
three
Weeks
.
I
have
no
News
worth
sending
you
,
but
my
next
shall
bring
you
what
we
have
.
In
the
mean
time
let
me
tell
you
(
what
I
hope
is
no
News
to
you
)
that
your
Absence
is
more
tedious
to
me
,
than
a
Quibbler's
Company
to
you
;
so
that
I
being
sick
Yesterday
,
as
I
thought
without
any
Cause
,
reflected
you
were
forty
or
fifty
Miles
off
,
and
then
found
the
Reason
of
my
Indisposition
,
for
I
cannot
be
well
so
far
from
you
,
who
am
,
My
Dear
Mr.
Dennis
,
Your
obliged
humble
Servant
,
W.
WYCHERLEY
.
POSTSCRIPT
.
PRay
pardon
me
that
I
have
not
sooner
answer'd
your
Letter
,
for
I
have
been
very
busie
this
last
Week
about
Law-affairs
,
that
is
,
very
Dull
and
Idle
,
tho'
very
Active
.
Your
Friends
of
the
Coffee-house
and
the
Rose
,
whether
Drunk
or
Sober
,
Good
Fellows
,
or
Good
Wits
,
show
at
least
their
Sence
,
by
valuing
you
and
yours
,
and
send
you
all
their
Service
;
and
never
are
more
Wits
and
less
Poets
,
that
is
,
less
Lyars
,
than
when
they
profess
themselves
your
Servants
.
For
News
,
W
—
lives
soberly
,
Ch
—
goes
to
bed
early
;
D'Vrfy
sings
now
like
a
Poet
,
that
is
,
without
being
ask'd
:
And
all
the
Poets
,
or
Wits-at-wills
,
since
your
departure
speak
well
of
the
Absent
.
Bal
—
says
his
ill
Looks
proceed
rather
for
want
of
your
Company
,
than
for
having
had
that
of
his
Mistress
;
even
the
Quibblers
and
Politicians
,
have
no
double
Meaning
when
they
speak
well
of
you
.
To
Mr.
Wycherley
.
Dear
Sir
,
THE
sight
of
your
Letter
reviv'd
me
:
It
appear'd
like
the
Rays
of
the
new
Sun
,
to
one
who
has
winter'd
under
the
Pole
,
and
brought
with
it
Light
,
Warmth
,
and
Spirit
.
The
Raillery
in
it
was
very
obliging
;
for
the
Lust
of
Praise
is
as
powerful
with
Men
,
as
the
Itch
of
Enjoyment
is
with
Women
;
and
it
is
as
hard
for
us
to
think
that
our
Friends
ridicule
us
when
they
commend
our
Wit
,
as
it
is
for
them
to
believe
that
their
Gallants
abuse
them
when
they
extol
their
Beauty
.
Yet
generally
in
both
Cases
,
whatever
is
said
,
is
said
for
the
Satisfaction
of
him
that
speaks
it
.
But
then
,
as
he
delights
in
Deceiving
,
the
Person
to
whom
he
speaks
is
deceiv'd
with
Pleasure
,
and
both
Parties
are
satisfied
.
But
Mr.
Wycherley
is
to
be
excepted
from
this
general
Rule
,
who
commends
his
Friend
for
his
Friend's
sake
.
You
never
are
witty
to
please
your self
,
to
whom
Wit
has
so
long
been
habitual
,
that
you
are
often
hardly
mov'd
your self
when
you
say
those
admirable
things
with
which
we
are
transported
.
Not
that
I
am
so
far
betray'd
by
Vanity
,
as
to
take
your
Compliments
at
the
Foot
of
the
Letter
,
or
to
suppose
that
you
believ'd
all
that
you
said
;
but
I
am
willing
,
for
your
sake
,
to
believe
that
you
meant
something
of
it
;
and
that
not
being
without
Kindness
for
me
,
(
which
is
only
owing
to
the
Sweetness
of
your
Nature
,
that
is
,
to
your
Merit
,
and
not
to
mine
;
)
your
Reason
,
as
the
Duke
de
la
Rochefoucaut
says
,
has
been
bubbled
by
your
Affection
.
And
here
,
Sir
,
I
have
much
the
Advantage
of
you
;
for
when
I
declare
that
I
have
the
greatest
Opinion
in
the
World
of
you
,
none
will
mistrust
my
Sincerity
,
and
all
will
applaud
my
Discernment
;
but
you
cannot
express
your
Zeal
at
so
high
a
rate
for
any
Friend
,
but
it
must
considerably
lessen
the
World's
Opinion
of
your
Judgment
.
But
if
it
is
Mr.
Wycherley's
peculiar
Praise
,
never
to
have
shewn
Want
of
Judgment
in
any
thing
,
unless
in
that
only
thing
in
which
Errour
is
honourable
:
How
few
are
they
who
are
capable
of
Erring
at
your
Rate
!
Vellem
in
amicia
sic
erraremus
,
&
isti
Errori
virtus
nomen
posuisset
honestum
.
And
how
happy
is
the
Man
who
has
a
Friend
so
accomplish'd
,
that
Errour
in
him
is
Virtue
?
I
am
that
happy
Man
,
and
am
so
far
exalted
by
my
Happiness
,
that
I
am
never
less
humble
,
than
when
I
subscribe
my self
,
Dear
Sir
,
Your
most
humble
and
faithful
Servant
.
Mr.
Wycherley's
to
Mr.
—
on
the
Loss
of
his
Mistress
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Have
had
yours
of
the
31st
of
March
,
to
which
I
should
sooner
have
returned
an
Answer
,
had
I
not
been
forced
to
take
a
little
turn
out
of
Town
;
but
your
Letter
to
me
,
brought
me
not
more
Satisfaction
than
your
last
to
Mr.
Moyle
gave
me
Disquiet
for
you
:
Since
by
that
I
find
how
uneasie
you
are
.
Yet
know
,
my
Friend
,
from
one
sufficiently
experienced
in
Love-disasters
,
that
Love
is
often
a
kind
of
losing
Loadam
,
in
which
the
Loser
is
most
often
the
Gainer
.
If
you
have
been
deprived
of
a
Mistress
,
consider
you
have
lost
a
Wife
,
and
tho'
you
are
disappointed
of
a
short
Satisfaction
,
you
have
likewise
escaped
a
tedious
Vexation
,
which
Matrimony
infallibly
comes
to
be
,
one
way
or
another
;
so
that
your
Misfortune
is
an
Accident
which
your
true
Friends
should
rather
felicitate
than
commiserate
.
You
told
me
in
your
last
,
that
you
were
no
more
Master
of
your self
:
Then
how
should
I
help
Rejoycing
at
the
Restoration
of
your
Liberty
?
A
Man
might
as
reasonably
be
sorry
for
his
Friend's
Recovery
from
Madness
,
as
for
his
Recovery
from
Love
,
(
tho'
for
the
time
a
pleasant
Frenzy
;
)
so
that
,
your
Mistress's
Father
,
has
rather
been
your
Doctor
than
your
Enemy
:
And
you
should
not
be
angry
with
him
,
if
he
cures
you
of
your
Love-distemper
,
tho'
by
a
Means
a
little
too
violent
;
for
next
to
his
Daughter's
Cure
of
Love
,
his
may
prove
the
best
.
Well
,
pray
be
not
angry
,
that
I
can
be
pleas'd
with
any
thing
that
can
so
much
displease
you
:
I
own
my
Friendship
for
you
,
has
a
little
Selfishness
in
it
,
for
now
you
cannot
be
so
happy
as
you
wou'd
in
the
Country
,
I
hope
you
will
make
us
as
happy
as
we
can
be
in
Town
,
which
we
shall
be
as
soon
as
we
have
your
company
:
For
know
,
my
Friend
,
change
of
Air
after
a
Love-distemper
,
may
be
as
good
as
't
is
after
a
Fever
;
and
therefore
make
haste
to
Town
,
where
a
great
many
Doctors
have
engaged
to
compleat
your
Cure
.
Your
Friends
will
do
any
thing
to
root
out
the
Remains
of
your
Passion
.
The
Witty
Club
will
grow
Grave
to
instruct
you
;
and
the
Grave
Club
will
grow
Gay
to
delight
you
;
Wh
—
will
turn
a
Philosopher
;
and
I
will
grow
a
Good-Fellow
,
and
venture
my
own
Health
,
for
the
Recovery
of
your
good
Humour
;
for
I
had
rather
be
sick
in
your
Company
,
than
for
want
of
it
;
who
am
,
Dear
Sir
,
Your
most
unalterable
Friend
,
and
humble
Servant
,
W.
WYCHERLEY
.
POSTSCRIPT
.
PRay
pardon
me
for
not
writing
to
you
before
,
or
rather
for
writing
to
you
so
dully
now
,
which
I
hope
will
be
my
best
Excuse
for
my
not
writing
sooner
.
All
your
Friends
of
the
Coffee-house
are
well
;
and
what
is
no
News
to
you
,
are
,
in
spight
of
your
Absence
,
your
constant
humble
Servants
.
The
Answer
to
Mr.
Wycherley
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Have
a
colourable
Excuse
for
my
Silence
,
for
when
you
went
out
of
Town
,
you
gave
me
the
hopes
of
receiving
a
Letter
from
you
,
as
soon
as
you
arriv'd
at
Cleve
.
Besides
,
since
that
,
I
have
been
a
Month
in
Northamptonshire
.
But
the
Inclination
which
I
have
to
converse
with
Mr.
Wycherley
,
is
too
violent
to
receive
any
Check
from
Punctillo's
.
But
,
alas
,
I
was
restrain'd
by
too
just
an
Impediment
:
For
ever
since
I
saw
you
,
I
have
been
so
rackt
by
a
cruel
Passion
,
that
I
have
had
no
Power
to
do
any
thing
but
to
to
Complain
.
And
your
Portion
of
Melancholy
is
not
so
small
,
that
you
have
need
to
be
troubled
with
another
Man's
Spleen
.
I
would
be
sure
to
communicate
my
Happiness
to
my
Friend
,
nay
,
I
could
be
but
half
happy
if
I
did
not
communicate
it
.
As
in
Love
I
never
could
be
pleas'd
to
a
Height
with
my
own
Pleasure
,
if
I
did
not
find
that
it
added
to
that
of
my
Mistress
.
But
I
should
impart
my
ill
Humour
to
my
Friend
,
if
I
found
that
it
were
not
in
his
Power
to
ease
me
,
and
that
it
were
much
in
his
Inclination
,
with
as
much
Regret
,
as
I
should
acquaint
him
with
his
own
ill
Fortune
,
if
I
were
clearly
convinc'd
that
it
were
not
in
my
Power
to
assist
him
.
You
would
not
advise
me
to
stifle
this
Passion
.
You
are
too
well
acquainted
with
Love
,
and
me
,
to
do
that
:
You
know
that
that
would
be
to
perswade
me
to
a
thing
which
you
are
already
sensible
that
I
am
very
willing
and
very
unable
to
do
.
I
blush
while
I
show
this
Weakness
,
but
sure
there
is
some
Force
of
Mind
requir'd
to
shew
some
sorts
of
Weakness
.
You
remember
the
Maxim
of
the
wise
Duke
:
La
meme
fermete
qui
sert
a
Resister
al'amour
,
Sertauffi
queque
fois
a
le
rendre
violent
&
durable
.
If
that
be
true
,
I
beseech
you
to
believe
that
this
obstinate
Lover
is
a
constant
Friend
too
,
and
unalterably
,
Dear
Sir
,
Your
most
humble
Servant
.
Mr.
Wycherley's
Letter
to
Mr.
—
Dear
Sir
,
I
Lately
received
from
you
so
kind
,
and
so
witty
a
Reproach
for
my
not
writing
to
you
,
that
I
can
hardly
repent
me
of
my
Fault
,
since
it
has
been
the
Occasion
of
my
receiving
so
much
Satisfaction
:
But
you
have
had
a
reasonable
Excuse
for
your
Silence
,
since
you
say
I
promis'd
to
write
to
you
first
,
which
is
very
true
;
and
I
had
kept
my
Promise
,
but
for
my
Conjecture
that
you
could
not
stay
so
long
out
of
Northamptonshire
;
nor
was
I
,
it
seems
mistaken
in
that
.
But
be
assur'd
,
dear
Sir
,
I
think
there
can
be
no
better
End
,
or
Design
of
my
Writing
,
than
in
its
procuring
me
the
Satisfaction
of
receiving
something
of
yours
;
especially
,
since
I
have
no
other
way
left
me
now
of
Conversing
with
you
.
But
it
seems
,
you
forbear
to
relieve
me
out
of
Charity
,
since
you
say
your
Trouble
was
so
great
,
that
you
were
unwilling
to
communicate
it
to
me
to
mine
.
I
see
your
Wit
can
do
any
thing
,
make
an
Omission
of
a
Kindness
a
greater
Obligation
;
and
if
you
complain
but
to
your
Mistress
,
as
wittily
as
you
do
to
your
Friend
,
I
wonder
not
at
her
Cruelty
,
nor
that
she
should
take
Pleasure
to
hear
you
Complain
so
long
.
But
,
my
Friend
,
have
a
care
of
Complaining
to
her
,
with
so
much
true
Sence
,
lest
it
should
disparage
your
true
Love
;
and
indeed
,
that
I
fear
is
the
only
Cause
you
are
suffer'd
to
Complain
so
long
,
without
the
Success
which
is
due
to
your
Merit
,
Love
,
and
Wit
,
from
one
who
,
you
say
,
has
her self
so
much
;
which
,
with
your
Pardon
,
I
shall
hardly
believe
,
tho'
you
are
her
Voucher
,
if
she
does
not
do
what
you
wou'd
have
her
;
that
is
,
do
you
and
herself
Reason
as
fast
as
she
can
;
since
she
must
needs
believe
you
a
warm
and
sincere
Lover
,
as
much
as
I
believe
you
a
zealous
and
a
true
Friend
.
And
I
am
so
well
acquainted
with
Love
and
you
,
that
I
believe
no
body
is
able
to
alter
your
Love
,
or
advise
your
Reason
;
the
one
being
as
Unalterable
as
the
other
Infallible
;
and
you
(
for
ought
I
know
)
are
the
only
Man
who
at
once
can
Love
and
be
Wise.
And
to
the
Wise
,
you
know
,
a
Word
is
enough
;
especially
since
you
gave
me
a
Caution
against
opposing
your
Passion
;
because
it
would
be
in
vain
.
If
Love
be
in
you
as
in
other
Men
,
a
violent
Passion
,
it
is
therefore
a
short
Frenzy
,
and
should
be
cur'd
like
other
Distempers
of
that
kind
,
by
your
Friends
humouring
it
,
rather
than
opposing
it
.
Yet
pardon
me
,
if
I
prescribe
the
common
Remedy
of
curing
one
Love
with
another
.
But
whether
you
will
let
me
be
your
Doctor
or
no
,
I
must
at
least
wish
you
well
,
who
am
,
Dear
Sir
,
your
most
obliged
affectionate
Friend
,
and
humble
Servant
,
W.
WYCHERLEY
.
POSTSCRIPT
.
PRay
thank
my
Friend
Mr.
W.
—
for
putting
his
Surtout
of
a
Letter
over
yours
of
a
finer
Stuff
,
as
the
Lining
of
a
Garment
is
often
finer
than
the
Outside
.
Pray
give
all
the
honest
Gentlemen
of
the
Coffee-house
,
of
my
Acquaintance
and
yours
,
my
humble
Service
;
whom
,
with
you
I
hope
to
see
again
,
within
this
three
Weeks
,
at
London
.
Mr.
Dennis
to
Mr.
Wycherley
.
Dear
Sir
,
A
Man
who
has
the
Vanity
of
pretending
to
Write
,
must
certainly
love
you
extremely
well
,
if
he
does
not
hate
you
after
he
has
received
from
you
such
a
Letter
as
yours
:
And
he
must
undoubtedly
shew
a
great
deal
of
Friendship
,
when
he
assures
you
he
does
not
envy
you
the
very
Lines
by
which
you
commend
him
.
A
Man
had
need
be
very
well
acquainted
with
the
Goodness
of
your
Nature
,
to
be
satisfied
that
you
do
not
praise
with
a
wicked
Design
to
mortifie
.
There
are
few
Writers
so
humble
,
whom
Mr.
Wycherley's
Commendation
would
not
render
vain
;
but
then
there
are
few
Writers
so
proud
,
whom
the
Wit
that
Mr.
Wycherley
shews
in
commending
them
,
would
not
humble
.
So
that
a
Man
,
who
did
not
know
you
,
wou'd
be
apt
to
believe
that
whenever
you
write
to
Phraise
,
you
do
but
like
a
Wrestler
who
lifts
People
up
on
purpose
to
throw
them
down
,
and
the
higher
he
raises
them
,
makes
their
Fall
the
greater
.
Your
Commendation
is
to
a
modest
Man
,
what
the
second
Bottle
is
to
a
sober
Man
;
it
raises
his
Vigour
while
he
is
swallowing
it
;
but
the
Wit
is
as
sure
to
make
the
one
Melancholy
upon
mature
Reflection
,
as
the
Wine
is
certain
to
leave
the
other
Spiritless
after
the
third
Concoction
:
But
our
Infirmity
cannot
be
your
Fault
;
to
whom
we
are
oblig'd
for
your
generous
Intentions
,
which
give
you
such
a
peculiar
Distinction
from
ordinary
Men
of
Wit
.
Indeed
,
by
a
just
and
a
noble
Confidence
,
which
you
may
repose
in
your self
,
you
may
always
very
safely
commend
;
because
you
may
be
always
sure
to
surpass
.
'T
is
prudent
and
noble
at
once
in
a
Conqueror
to
extol
the
Conquered
:
To
praise
the
Excellence
which
he
o'ercomes
,
is
but
to
commend
himself
:
Besides
,
it
wins
the
very
Heart
and
Soul
of
him
that
is
overcome
,
if
he
has
but
Virtue
enough
to
be
so
subdued
;
and
makes
him
willing
to
leave
his
last
Retrenchment
.
It
would
long
since
have
had
that
Effect
upon
me
,
if
the
rest
of
your
good
Qualities
had
not
prevented
it
;
which
have
so
closely
and
so
entirely
tied
me
to
you
,
that
whenever
I
receive
a
Letter
from
you
,
my
Vanity
is
sure
to
gain
on
the
one
side
,
what
it
is
certain
to
lose
on
the
other
:
For
if
I
am
mortified
as
to
my
own
Wit
,
I
do
not
fail
to
value
my self
upon
yours
.
I
am
,
&c.
To
Mr.
Wycherley
,
That
a
Block-head
is
better
qualified
for
Business
than
a
Man
of
Wit
.
Dear
Sir
,
THE
last
time
I
was
at
Will
's
,
I
had
the
Mortification
to
hear
,
that
our
Friend
Mr.
—
had
met
with
a
Disappointment
in
—
;
at
which
,
some
,
who
were
present
,
were
glad
,
affirming
,
That
Success
would
have
thrown
him
out
of
his
Element
;
for
that
a
Man
of
Wit
is
not
qualified
for
Business
so
well
as
a
Block-head
:
I
have
since
had
some
Thoughts
concerning
that
matter
which
I
here
send
you
,
and
of
which
I
desire
your
Opinion
.
Upon
Reflection
I
have
found
out
the
following
Reasons
,
why
Block-heads
are
thought
to
be
fittest
for
Business
,
and
why
they
really
succeed
in
it
.
First
,
As
their
Brains
are
a
great
deal
colder
,
than
those
are
of
Men
of
Wit
,
they
must
have
but
very
strait
Imaginations
,
and
very
barren
Inventions
;
from
whence
it
follows
that
they
have
but
few
Thoughts
,
and
that
a
few
Objects
fill
their
Capacities
.
Secondly
,
It
is
reasonable
enough
to
believe
,
that
since
they
are
uncapable
of
many
Thoughts
,
those
few
which
they
have
,
are
determin'd
by
their
Necessities
,
their
Appetites
,
and
their
Desires
,
to
what
they
call
their
Fortunes
and
their
Establishments
.
Thirdly
,
It
is
not
very
hard
to
conceive
,
that
since
a
Block-head
has
but
a
few
Thoughts
,
and
perhaps
but
one
all
his
Life-time
,
which
is
his
Interest
,
he
should
have
it
more
perfect
,
and
better
digested
,
then
Men
of
Wit
have
the
same
Thought
,
who
perhaps
have
a
thousand
every
Hour
.
Fourthly
,
It
is
easie
to
comprehend
,
that
since
such
a
one
has
but
a
few
Thoughts
,
or
perhaps
but
one
,
which
by
often
revolving
in
his
Mind
,
he
has
digested
,
and
brought
to
perfection
,
he
should
readily
pass
from
Thought
to
Action
.
For
he
must
grow
weary
of
Thinking
so
often
of
one
and
the
same
thing
;
and
since
the
Nature
of
the
Soul
requires
Agitation
,
as
soon
as
his
little
Speculation
ceases
,
he
must
of
necessity
act
to
divert
himself
.
Fifthly
,
It
will
be
certainly
found
,
that
as
a
little
Thought
often
makes
a
Man
active
in
Business
,
so
a
little
Judgment
often
makes
him
diligent
;
for
he
may
well
be
eager
in
the
Pursuit
of
those
things
,
on
which
,
seduced
by
Passion
and
Vulgar
Opinion
,
he
sets
an
exorbitant
Value
;
and
concerning
whose
Natures
and
Incertainty
he
is
not
very
capable
of
making
solid
Reflections
.
For
tho'
Prudence
may
oblige
a
Man
to
secure
a
Competency
,
yet
never
was
any
one
by
right
Reason
induced
to
seek
Superfluities
.
Sixthly
,
Penury
of
Thoughts
supposes
Littleness
of
Soul
,
which
is
often
requisite
for
the
succeeding
in
Business
:
For
a
Blockhead
is
sordid
enough
to
descend
to
Trick
and
Artifice
,
which
in
Business
are
often
necessary
to
procure
Success
;
unless
they
are
more
than
supplied
,
by
a
Prudence
deriv'd
from
a
consummate
Experience
,
or
from
a
great
Capacity
.
Thus
have
I
endeavour'd
to
give
the
Reason
,
why
a
Fool
succeeds
better
in
Business
than
a
Man
of
Wit
;
who
has
a
multitude
of
Thoughts
,
and
which
fly
at
the
noblest
Objects
;
and
who
finds
that
there
is
something
so
pleasing
,
and
so
noble
,
in
Thinking
rightly
,
and
more
especially
in
the
sublime
Speculations
of
exalted
Reason
,
that
he
finds
it
intollerably
irksome
to
descend
to
Action
,
and
abhors
the
very
Thought
of
being
diligent
in
things
,
for
which
he
has
an
extream
Contempt
.
Thus
you
〈◊〉
that
in
some
measure
,
a
Fool
may
be
said
to
be
better
fitted
out
for
Business
,
than
a
Man
of
Wit
.
But
it
is
high
time
to
distinguish
:
For
,
first
,
when
I
say
that
a
Block-head
is
fitted
for
Business
,
I
mean
only
for
little
Business
:
For
to
affirm
,
that
he
is
qualified
for
Affairs
that
require
Extent
of
Capacity
,
would
be
a
Contradiction
in
Terms
.
Secondly
,
When
I
affirm
,
that
a
Man
of
Wit
is
less
capacitated
for
Business
,
I
mean
that
he
is
less
so
,
as
long
as
he
keeps
in
his
natural
Temper
,
and
remains
in
a
State
of
Tranquility
:
But
if
once
he
comes
to
be
thrown
out
of
that
by
the
Force
of
a
violent
Passion
,
and
fir'd
with
Zeal
for
his
Country's
Service
,
or
enflam'd
by
Ambition
,
and
Business
can
be
made
subservient
to
the
gratifying
of
those
Passions
,
then
I
dare
boldly
affirm
,
that
one
Man
of
Wit
will
go
further
than
a
thousand
of
those
who
want
it
.
Of
which
it
would
be
easie
to
give
more
than
one
Instance
amongst
our
present
Ministers
.
But
I
will
be
contented
with
putting
you
in
mind
,
that
none
of
the
Romans
had
more
Wit
than
Caesar
,
and
none
of
the
French
than
Richelieu
.
Before
I
conclude
,
I
must
give
you
a
Caution
;
which
is
,
That
by
the
Word
Blockhead
,
I
do
not
mean
one
that
is
stupid
,
but
that
I
apply
that
word
according
to
the
Language
of
you
Men
of
Wit
,
to
one
who
thinks
but
a
little
:
And
that
on
the
other
side
,
by
a
Man
of
Wit
,
I
do
not
mean
every
Coxcomb
whose
Imagination
has
got
the
Ascendant
of
his
little
Reason
;
but
a
Man
like
you
,
Sir
,
or
our
most
ingenious
Friend
,
in
whom
Fancy
and
Judgment
are
like
a
well-match'd
Pair
;
the
first
like
an
extraordinary
Wife
,
that
appears
always
Beautiful
,
and
always
Charming
,
yet
is
at
all
times
Decent
,
and
at
all
times
Chast
;
the
second
like
a
prudent
and
well-bred
Husband
,
whose
very
Sway
shews
his
Complaisance
,
and
whose
very
Indulgence
shews
his
Authority
,
I
am
,
dear
Sir
,
your
most
humble
Servant
,
JOHN
DENNIS
.
To
Mr.
Dryden
.
Sir
,
THo'
no
Man
writes
to
his
Friend
with
greater
Ease
,
or
with
more
Chearfulness
,
than
my self
;
and
tho'
I
have
lately
had
the
Presumption
to
place
you
at
the
Head
of
that
small
Party
,
nevertheless
I
have
experienc'd
,
with
Grief
,
that
in
writing
to
you
I
have
not
found
my
old
Facility
.
Since
I
came
to
this
place
I
have
taken
up
my
Pen
several
times
in
order
to
write
to
you
,
but
have
constantly
at
the
very
beginning
found
my self
damp'd
and
disabled
;
upon
which
I
have
been
apt
to
believe
that
extraordinary
Esteem
may
sometimes
make
the
Mind
as
Impotent
as
a
violent
Love
does
the
Body
,
and
that
the
vehement
Desire
we
have
to
exert
it
,
extremely
decays
our
Ability
.
I
have
heard
of
more
than
one
lusty
Gallant
,
who
,
tho'
he
could
at
any
time
,
with
Readiness
and
Vigour
,
possess
the
Woman
whom
he
lov'd
but
moderately
,
yet
when
he
has
been
about
to
give
his
Darling
Mistress
,
whom
he
has
vehemently
and
long
desir'd
,
the
first
last
Proof
of
his
Passion
,
has
found
on
a
sudden
that
his
Body
has
jaded
and
grown
resty
under
his
Soul
,
and
gone
backward
the
faster
,
the
more
he
has
spurr'd
it
forward
.
Esteem
has
wrought
a
like
Effect
upon
my
Mind
;
my
extraordinary
Inclination
to
shew
that
I
honour
you
at
an
extraordinary
rate
,
and
to
shew
it
in
words
that
might
not
be
altogether
unworthy
Mr.
Dryden's
Perusal
,
incapacitates
me
to
perform
the
very
Action
to
which
it
incites
me
,
and
Nature
sinks
in
me
under
the
fierce
Effort
.
But
I
hope
you
will
have
the
Goodness
to
pardon
a
Weakness
that
proceeds
from
a
Cause
like
this
,
and
to
consider
that
I
had
pleas'd
you
more
if
I
had
honoured
you
less
.
Who
knows
but
that
yet
I
may
please
you
,
if
you
encourage
me
to
mend
my
Fault
?
To
which
,
if
you
know
but
the
Place
I
am
in
,
Charity
would
engage
you
,
tho'
Justice
could
not
oblige
you
:
For
I
am
here
in
a
Desart
,
depriv'd
of
Company
,
and
depriv'd
of
News
;
in
a
Place
where
I
can
hear
nothing
at
all
of
the
Publick
;
and
what
proves
it
ten
times
more
a
Desart
,
nothing
at
all
of
you
:
For
all
who
are
at
present
concern'd
for
their
Country's
Honour
,
hearken
more
after
your
Preparatives
,
than
those
for
the
next
Campaign
.
These
last
may
possibly
turn
to
our
Confusion
,
so
uncertain
are
the
Events
of
War
;
but
we
know
that
whatever
you
undertake
must
prove
Glorious
to
England
;
and
tho'
the
French
may
meet
with
Success
in
the
Field
,
by
you
we
are
sure
to
Conquer
them
.
In
War
there
are
a
thousand
unlook'd-for
Accidents
which
happens
every
Day
,
and
Fortune
appears
no where
more
like
her self
;
but
in
a
Combat
of
Wit
,
the
more
Humane
Contention
,
and
the
more
Glorious
Quarrel
,
Merit
will
be
always
sure
to
prevail
:
And
therefore
,
tho'
I
can
but
hope
that
the
Confederate
Forces
will
give
Chase
to
De
Lorge
and
Luxemburgh
,
I
am
very
confident
that
Boileau
and
Racine
will
be
forced
to
submit
to
you
.
Judge
therefore
,
if
I
,
who
very
much
love
my
Country
,
and
who
so
much
esteem
you
,
must
not
with
a
great
deal
of
Impatience
expect
to
hear
from
you
.
I
am
,
Sir
,
your
most
humble
Servant
.
To
Mr.
Dryden
.
Dear
Sir
,
YOu
may
see
already
by
this
presumptuous
Greeting
,
that
Encouragement
gives
us
as
much
Assurance
to
Friendship
,
as
it
imparts
to
Love
:
You
may
see
too
,
that
a
Friend
may
sometimes
proceed
to
acknowledge
Affection
,
by
the
very
same
Degrees
by
which
a
Lover
declares
his
Passion
.
This
last
,
at
first
,
confesses
Esteem
,
yet
owns
no
Passion
but
Admiration
:
But
as
soon
as
he
is
animated
by
one
kind
Expression
,
his
Look
,
his
Style
,
and
his
very
Soul
are
altered
;
but
as
Sovereign
Beauties
know
very
well
,
that
he
who
confesses
he
Esteems
and
Admires
them
,
implies
that
he
Loves
them
,
or
is
enclin'd
to
Love
them
;
a
Person
of
Mr.
Dryden's
exalted
Genius
,
can
discern
very
well
,
that
when
we
Esteem
him
highly
,
't
is
Respect
restrains
us
if
we
say
no
more
.
For
where
great
Esteem
is
without
Affection
,
't
is
often
attended
with
Envy
,
if
not
with
Hate
;
which
Passions
detract
,
even
when
they
commend
,
and
Silence
is
their
highest
Panegyric
.
'T
is
indeed
impossible
,
that
I
should
refuse
to
Love
a
Man
,
who
has
so
often
given
me
all
the
Pleasure
that
the
most
insatiable
Mind
can
desire
;
when
at
any
time
I
have
been
dejected
by
Disappointments
,
or
tormented
by
cruel
Passions
,
the
Recourse
to
your
Verses
has
calm'd
my
Soul
,
or
rais'd
it
to
Transports
which
made
it
contemn
Tranquility
.
But
tho'
you
have
so
often
given
me
all
the
Pleasure
I
was
able
to
bear
,
I
have
reason
to
complain
of
you
on
this
account
,
that
you
have
confin'd
my
Delight
to
a
narrower
Compass
:
Suckling
,
Cowley
,
and
Denham
,
who
formerly
ravish'd
me
in
ev'ry
part
of
them
,
now
appear
Tastless
to
me
in
most
;
and
Waller
himself
,
with
all
his
Gallantry
,
and
all
that
admirable
Art
of
his
Turns
,
appears
three
quarters
Prose
to
me
.
Thus
't
is
plain
that
your
Muse
has
done
me
an
Injury
;
but
she
has
made
me
Amends
for
it
:
For
she
is
like
those
extraordinary
Women
,
who
,
besides
the
Regularity
of
their
charming
Features
,
besides
their
engaging
Wit
,
have
secret
,
unaccountable
,
enchanting
Graces
,
which
tho'
they
have
been
long
and
often
enjoy'd
,
make
them
always
New
and
always
Desirable
.
I
return
you
my
hearty
Thanks
for
your
most
obliging
Letter
.
I
had
been
very
unreasonable
if
I
had
repin'd
that
the
Favour
arriv'd
no
sooner
:
'T
is
allowable
to
grumble
at
the
Delaying
a
Payment
,
but
to
murmur
at
the
Deferring
a
Benefit
,
is
to
be
impudently
Ungrateful
beforehand
.
The
Commendations
which
you
give
me
,
exceedingly
sooth
my
Vanity
:
For
you
with
a
Breath
can
bestow
or
confirm
Reputation
;
a
whole
numberless
People
proclaims
the
Praise
which
you
give
,
and
the
Judgments
of
three
mighty
Kingdoms
appear
to
depend
upon
yours
.
The
People
gave
me
some
little
Applause
before
;
but
to
whom
,
when
they
are
in
Humour
,
will
they
not
give
it
?
and
to
whom
,
when
they
are
Froward
will
they
not
refuse
it
?
Reputation
with
them
depends
upon
Chance
,
unless
they
are
guided
by
those
above
them
:
They
are
but
the
Keepers
as
it
were
of
the
Lottery
which
Fortune
sets
up
for
Renown
;
upon
which
Fame
is
bound
to
attend
with
her
Trumpet
,
and
Sound
when
Men
draw
the
Prizes
.
Thus
I
had
rather
have
your
Approbation
than
the
Applause
of
Fame
Her
Commendation
argues
Good
Luck
,
but
Mr.
Dryden's
implies
Desert
.
Whatever
low
Opinion
I
have
hitherto
had
of
my self
,
I
have
so
great
a
Value
for
your
Judgment
,
that
,
for
the
sake
of
that
,
I
shall
be
willing
henceforward
to
believe
that
I
am
not
wholly
Desertless
;
but
that
you
may
find
me
still
more
Supportable
,
I
shall
endeavour
to
compensate
whatever
I
want
in
those
glittering
Qualities
,
by
which
the
World
is
dazled
,
with
Truth
,
with
Faith
,
and
with
Zeal
to
serve
you
;
Qualities
which
,
for
their
Rarity
,
might
be
Objects
of
Wonder
,
but
that
Men
dare
not
appear
to
admire
them
,
because
their
Admiration
would
manifestly
declare
their
Want
of
'
em
.
Thus
,
Sir
,
let
me
assure
you
,
that
tho'
you
are
acquainted
with
several
Gentlemen
,
whose
Eloquence
and
Wit
may
capacitate
them
to
offer
their
Service
with
more
Address
to
you
,
yet
no
one
can
declare
himself
,
with
greater
Chearfulness
,
or
with
greater
Fidelity
,
or
with
more
profound
Respect
than
my self
,
Sir
,
your
most
,
&c.
Mr.
Dryden
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
My
dear
Mr.
Dennis
,
WHen
I
read
a
Letter
so
full
of
my
Commendations
,
as
your
last
,
I
cannot
but
consider
you
as
the
Master
of
a
vast
Treasure
,
who
,
having
more
than
enough
for
your self
,
are
forc'd
to
Ebb
out
upon
your
Friends
.
You
have
indeed
the
best
Right
to
give
them
,
since
you
have
them
in
Propriety
;
but
they
are
no
more
mine
when
I
receive
them
,
than
the
Light
of
the
Moon
can
be
allowed
to
be
her
own
,
who
shines
but
by
the
Reflection
of
her
Brother
.
Your
own
Poetry
is
a
more
powerful
Example
,
to
prove
that
the
Modern
Writers
may
enter
into
Comparison
with
the
Ancients
,
than
any
which
Perrault
could
produce
in
France
;
yet
neither
he
,
nor
you
,
who
are
a
better
Critick
,
can
persuade
me
that
there
is
any
room
left
for
a
solid
Commendation
at
this
time
of
Day
,
at
least
for
me
.
If
I
undertake
the
Translation
of
Virgil
,
the
little
which
I
can
perform
will
shew
at
least
,
that
no
Man
is
fit
to
write
after
him
,
in
a
barbarous
modern
Tongue
:
Neither
will
his
Machines
be
of
any
service
to
a
Christian
Poet.
We
see
how
ineffectually
they
have
been
try'd
by
Tasso
,
and
by
Ariosto
.
'T
is
using
them
too
dully
if
we
only
make
Devils
of
his
Gods
:
As
if
,
for
Example
,
I
would
raise
a
Storm
,
and
make
use
of
Eolus
,
with
this
only
Difference
of
calling
him
Prince
of
the
Air.
What
Invention
of
mine
would
there
be
in
this
?
or
who
would
not
see
Virgil
thorough
me
,
only
the
same
Trick
play'd
over
again
by
a
bungling
Juggler
?
Boileau
has
well
observed
,
that
it
is
an
easie
matter
,
in
a
Christian
Poem
,
for
God
to
bring
the
Devil
to
Reason
.
I
think
I
have
given
a
better
Hint
for
new
Machines
in
my
Preface
to
Juvenal
,
where
I
have
particularly
recommended
two
Subjects
,
one
of
king
Arthur's
Conquest
of
the
Saxons
,
and
the
other
of
the
Black
Prince
in
his
Conquest
of
Spain
.
But
the
Guardian
Angels
of
Monarchies
and
Kingdoms
,
are
not
to
be
touch'd
by
every
Hand
.
A
Man
must
be
deeply
conversant
in
the
Platonick
Philosophy
to
deal
with
them
:
And
therefore
I
may
reasonably
expect
that
no
Poet
of
our
Age
will
pre-sume
to
handle
those
Machines
,
for
fear
of
discovering
his
own
Ignorance
;
or
if
he
should
,
he
might
perhaps
be
Ingrateful
enough
not
to
own
me
for
his
Benefactor
.
After
I
have
confess'd
thus
much
of
our
Modern
Heroick
Poetry
,
I
cannot
but
conclude
with
Mr.
Rym
—
,
that
our
English
Comedy
is
far
beyond
any
thing
of
the
Ancients
.
And
notwithstanding
our
Irregularities
,
so
is
our
Tragedy
.
Shakespear
had
a
Genius
for
it
;
and
we
know
,
in
spite
of
Mr.
R
—
that
Genius
alone
is
a
greater
Virtue
(
if
I
may
so
call
it
)
than
all
other
Qualifications
put
together
.
You
see
what
Success
this
learned
Critick
has
found
in
the
World
,
after
his
Blaspheming
Shakespear
.
Almost
all
the
Faults
which
he
has
discover'd
are
truly
there
;
Yet
who
will
read
Mr.
Rym
—
,
or
not
read
Shakespear
?
For
my
own
part
,
I
reverence
Mr.
Rym
—
's
Learning
,
but
I
detest
his
Ill
Nature
and
his
Arrogance
.
I
indeed
,
and
such
as
I
,
have
reason
to
be
afraid
of
him
,
but
Shakespear
has
not
.
There
is
another
Part
of
Poetry
in
which
the
English
stand
almost
upon
an
equal
Foot
with
the
Antients
;
and
't
is
that
which
we
call
Pindarique
;
introduced
,
but
not
perfected
by
our
Famous
Mr.
Cowley
:
and
of
this
,
Sir
,
you
are
certainly
one
of
the
greatest
Masters
:
You
have
the
Sublimity
of
Sence
as
well
as
Sound
,
and
know
how
far
the
Boldness
of
a
Poet
may
lawfully
extend
.
I
could
wish
you
would
cultivate
this
kind
of
Ode
;
and
reduce
it
either
to
the
same
Measure
which
Pinder
us'd
,
or
give
new
Measures
of
your
own
.
For
,
as
it
is
,
it
looks
like
a
vast
Tract
of
Land
newly
discover'd
.
The
Soil
is
wonderfully
fruitful
,
but
unmanur'd
,
overstock'd
with
Inhabitants
;
but
almost
all
Salvages
,
without
Laws
,
Arts
,
Arms
,
or
Policy
.
I
remember
poor
Nat.
Lee
,
who
was
then
upon
the
Verge
of
Madness
,
yet
made
a
sober
,
and
a
witty
Answer
to
a
bad
Poet
,
who
told
him
,
It
was
an
easie
thing
to
write
like
a
Madman
.
No
,
said
he
,
't
is
very
difficult
to
write
like
a
Madman
;
but
't
is
a
very
easie
matter
to
write
like
a
Fool.
Otway
and
He
are
safe
by
Death
from
all
Attacks
,
but
we
poor
Poets
Militant
(
to
use
Mr.
Cowley's
Expression
)
are
at
the
Mercy
of
wretched
Scribblers
:
and
when
they
cannot
fasten
upon
our
Verses
,
they
fall
upon
our
Morals
,
our
Principles
of
State
and
Religion
.
For
my
Principles
of
Religion
,
I
will
not
justifie
them
to
you
:
I
know
yours
are
far
different
.
For
the
same
reason
I
shall
say
nothing
of
my
Principles
of
State
:
I
believe
you
in
yours
follow
the
Dictates
of
your
Reason
,
as
I
in
mine
do
those
of
my
Conscience
.
If
I
thought
my self
in
an
Error
I
would
retract
it
;
I
am
sure
that
I
suffer
for
them
;
and
Milton
makes
even
the
Devil
say
,
That
no
Creature
is
in
love
with
Pain
.
For
my
Morals
,
betwixt
Man
and
Man
,
I
am
not
to
be
my
own
Judge
;
I
appeal
to
the
World
if
I
have
Deceiv'd
or
Defrauded
any
Man
:
And
for
my
private
Conversation
,
they
who
see
me
every
Day
can
be
the
best
Witnesses
,
whether
or
no
it
be
Blameless
and
Inoffensive
.
Hitherto
I
have
no
reason
to
complain
that
Men
of
either
Party
shun
my
Company
.
I
have
never
been
an
impudent
Beggar
at
the
Doors
of
Noble
Men
:
My
Visits
have
indeed
been
too
rare
to
be
unacceptable
;
and
but
just
enough
to
testifie
my
Gratitude
for
their
Bounty
;
which
I
have
frequently
received
,
but
always
unask'd
,
as
themselves
will
witness
.
I
have
written
more
than
I
needed
to
you
on
this
Subject
:
for
I
dare
say
,
you
justifie
me
to
your self
.
As
for
that
which
I
first
intended
for
the
principal
Subject
of
this
Letter
,
which
is
my
Friend's
Passion
,
and
his
Design
of
Marriage
,
on
better
consideration
I
have
chang'd
my
Mind
:
For
having
had
the
Honour
to
see
my
dear
Friend
Wycherley's
Letter
to
him
on
that
Occasion
,
I
find
nothing
to
be
added
or
amended
.
But
as
well
as
I
love
Mr.
Wycherley
,
I
confess
I
love
my self
so
well
,
that
I
will
not
shew
how
much
I
am
inferiour
to
him
in
Wit
and
Judgment
,
by
undertaking
any
thing
after
him
.
There
is
Moses
and
the
Prophets
in
his
Counsel
:
Jupiter
and
Juno
,
as
the
Poets
tell
us
,
made
Tiresias
their
Umpire
,
in
a
certain
merry
Despute
,
which
fell
out
in
Heav'n
betwixt
them
:
Tiresias
you
know
had
been
of
both
Sexes
,
and
therefore
was
a
proper
Judge
;
our
Friend
,
Mr.
Wycherley
,
is
full
as
competent
an
Arbitrator
:
He
has
been
a
Batchelor
,
and
Marry'd
Man
,
and
is
now
a
Widower
.
Virgil
says
of
Ceneus
,
Nunc
vir
nunc
Faemina
Ceneus
,
Rursus
&
in
veterem
fato
revoluta
figuram
.
Yet
,
I
suppose
,
he
will
not
give
any
large
Commendations
to
his
middle
State
;
nor
as
the
Sailer
said
,
will
be
fond
,
after
a
Shipwrack
,
to
put
to
Sea
again
.
If
my
Friend
will
adventure
after
this
,
I
can
but
wish
him
a
good
Wind
,
as
being
his
;
and
,
My
dear
Mr.
Dennis
,
your
most
Affectionate
and
most
Faithful
Servant
,
JOHN
DRYDEN
.
Written
for
my
Lady
C
—
,
to
her
Cousin
W
—
of
the
Temple
.
By
Mr.
Dennis
.
After
she
had
received
from
him
a
Copy
of
Verses
on
her
Beauty
.
Cousin
,
I
Received
yours
with
the
Verses
inclos'd
,
and
here
return
you
my
hearty
Thanks
for
the
Face
,
the
Shape
,
the
Meen
,
which
you
have
so
generously
bestow'd
upon
me
.
From
looking
upon
your
Verses
I
went
to
my
Glass
:
But
,
Jesu
!
the
Difference
!
Tho'
I
bought
it
to
Flatter
me
,
yet
compar'd
to
you
,
I
found
it
a
Plain
Dealer
:
It
show'd
me
immediately
that
I
have
been
a
great
deal
more
beholding
to
you
,
than
I
have
been
to
Nature
;
for
she
only
form'd
me
not
Frightful
;
but
you
have
made
me
Divine
.
But
as
you
have
been
a
great
deal
kinder
than
Nature
has
been
to
me
,
I
think
my self
obliged
,
in
Requital
,
to
be
a
good
deal
more
Liberal
than
Heav'n
has
been
to
you
,
and
to
allow
you
as
large
a
Stock
of
Wit
as
you
have
giv'n
me
of
Beauty
:
Since
so
Honest
a
Gentleman
as
your self
,
has
stretcht
his
Conscience
to
commend
my
Person
,
I
am
bound
in
Gratitude
to
do
Violence
to
my
Reason
,
to
extol
your
Verses
.
When
I
left
the
Town
,
I
desir'd
you
to
furnish
me
with
the
News
of
the
Place
,
and
the
first
thing
I
have
receiv'd
from
you
,
is
a
Copy
of
Verses
on
my
Beauty
;
by
which
you
dexterously
infer
,
that
the
most
extraordinary
Piece
of
News
you
can
send
me
,
is
to
tell
me
,
that
I
am
Handsom
.
By
which
ingenious
Inference
,
you
had
infallibly
brought
the
Scandal
of
a
Wit
upon
you
,
if
your
Verses
had
not
stood
up
in
you
Justification
.
But
tell
me
truly
,
Cousin
,
could
you
think
that
I
should
prove
so
easie
a
Creature
as
to
believe
all
that
you
have
said
of
me
?
How
could
you
find
in
your
Heart
to
make
such
a
Fool
of
me
,
and
such
a
Cheat
of
your self
;
to
intoxicate
me
with
Flattery
,
and
draw
me
in
to
Truck
my
little
Stock
of
Wit
and
Judgment
,
for
a
meer
Imagination
of
Beauty
;
when
the
real
thing
too
,
falls
so
infinitely
short
of
what
you
would
make
me
exchange
for
the
very
Fancy
of
it
?
For
,
Cousin
,
there
is
this
considerable
Difference
between
the
Merit
of
Wit
and
Beauty
:
That
Men
are
never
violently
influenc'd
by
Beauty
,
unless
it
has
weaken'd
their
Reason
;
and
never
seel
half
the
Force
of
Wit
,
unless
their
Judgments
are
sound
.
The
principal
time
in
which
those
of
your
Sex
admire
Beauty
in
ours
,
is
between
Seventeen
and
Thirty
;
that
is
,
after
they
are
past
their
Innocence
,
and
before
they
are
come
to
their
Judgment
.
And
now
,
Cousin
,
have
not
you
been
commend-ing
a
pretty
Quality
in
me
,
to
admire
which
,
as
I
have
just
shewn
you
,
supposes
not
only
a
corrupted
Will
,
but
a
raw
Understanding
:
Besides
,
how
frail
,
how
transitory
is
it
!
Nature
deprives
us
of
it
at
thirty
,
if
Diseases
spare
it
till
then
:
By
which
constant
Proceeding
,
she
seems
to
imply
,
that
she
gives
it
us
as
a
Gugaw
to
please
us
in
the
Childhood
of
our
Reasons
;
and
takes
it
from
us
,
as
a
thing
below
us
,
when
we
come
to
Years
of
Discretion
.
Thus
,
Cousin
,
have
you
been
commending
a
Quality
in
me
,
which
has
nothing
of
true
Merit
in
it
,
and
of
which
I
have
no
greater
a
Share
,
than
to
keep
me
from
being
scandalous
.
So
that
all
I
could
have
got
by
your
Kindness
,
if
I
had
parted
with
my
Judgment
,
in
order
to
reap
the
Benefit
of
it
,
had
been
nothing
but
wretched
Conceit
,
and
rediculous
Affectation
.
If
I
thought
you
had
enough
of
the
gallant
Man
in
you
,
to
take
what
I
say
in
good
part
,
I
would
advise
you
to
engage
no
further
in
Poetry
:
Be
rul'd
by
a
Woman
for
once
,
and
mind
your
Cook
upon
Littleton
.
Rather
Pettifog
than
Flatter
:
for
if
you
are
resolved
to
be
a
Cheat
,
you
will
show
at
least
some
Conscience
,
in
resolving
rather
to
chouse
People
of
their
Money
,
than
to
bubble
them
of
their
Understandings
.
Besides
,
Cousin
,
you
have
not
a
Genius
which
will
make
a
Great
Poet
,
and
be
pleased
to
consider
,
that
a
Small
Poet
is
a
scandalous
Wight
;
that
indifferent
Verses
are
very
bad
ones
;
and
that
an
insipid
Panegytic
upon
another
is
a
severe
Libal
upon
your self
.
Besides
,
there
will
start
up
a
Satyr
one
Day
,
and
then
Woe
be
to
cold
Rimers
.
Old
England
is
not
yet
so
barren
,
but
there
will
arise
some
generous
Spirit
,
who
,
besides
a
Stock
of
Wit
and
good
Sence
,
which
are
no
very
common
Qualities
,
will
not
only
be
furnished
with
a
sound
Judgment
,
which
is
an
extraordinary
Talent
;
but
with
a
true
Tast
for
Eloquence
and
Wit
,
which
is
scarce
any-where
to
be
found
;
and
which
comprehends
not
only
a
just
Discernment
,
but
a
fine
Penetration
,
and
a
dilicate
Criticism
.
Such
a
Satyrist
as
this
,
Cousin
,
must
arise
,
and
therefore
you
had
best
take
care
,
by
a
judicious
Silence
,
that
whenever
he
appears
,
he
may
be
sure
to
Divert
you
,
and
not
Afflict
you
.
I
am
,
&c.
To
Mr
—
,
at
Will
's
Coffee-house
,
in
Covent-garden
.
I
Received
your
Panegyrick
upon
Pun's
,
which
I
so
approve
of
,
that
I
am
resolved
to
get
it
printed
,
and
bouud
up
with
Erasmus
his
Praise
of
Folly
.
Yet
to
confess
a
Truth
,
I
was
something
dissatisfied
to
see
Quibbling
commended
with
so
much
Wit
:
For
nothing
can
be
writ
with
more
Wit
,
than
your
Letter
to
the
Reserve
of
the
Quibbles
;
which
I
suppose
you
inserted
amongst
so
many
things
which
are
so
finely
said
,
lest
these
should
have
render'd
you
too
vain
,
or
too
much
have
mortify'd
me
:
But
pray
,
after
this
Panegyrick
upon
Quibbles
,
give
me
leave
to
ask
you
the
same
Question
that
the
Lacedemonians
ask'd
the
Sophister
,
who
harangu'd
in
the
Praise
of
Hercules
:
By
the
way
,
did
you
ever
expect
to
hear
a
Quibble
compar'd
to
Hercules
?
There
's
a
Simile
for
you
.
I
think
,
as
Novel
says
,
that
's
New
.
You
,
who
are
cry'd
up
for
so
great
a
Wit
,
tell
me
,
without
Envy
,
could
you
ever
have
thought
upon
that
?
But
to
return
to
my
Question
:
Here
you
have
spent
a
great
deal
of
time
in
the
Defence
of
Quibbles
.
Who
said
a
Word
against
them
?
The
Devil
a
Syllable
did
I
mention
of
them
in
mine
.
It
is
true
,
I
cited
honest
Mr.
Sw
—
,
but
it
is
a
hard
Case
,
if
the
Quoting
an
Author
must
be
construed
the
Condemning
his
Works
:
I
have
a
great
Respect
and
Kindness
for
Mr.
Sw
—
,
as
I
have
for
all
who
have
any
Excellence
.
And
truly
,
I
think
that
for
the
Management
of
Quibbles
and
Dice
,
there
is
no
Man
alive
comes
near
him
.
And
let
me
tell
you
,
Sir
,
for
all
your
new
Emulation
,
he
is
a
better
Quibbler
than
you
.
But
it
is
high
time
to
give
over
Raillery
:
For
if
you
were
my
Father
a
thousand
times
,
let
me
die
if
I
would
not
rigorously
examine
that
part
of
your
Letter
which
pretends
to
defend
Quibbling
.
You
say
that
I
am
too
Nice
,
and
that
my
Aversion
has
something
in
it
,
that
is
very
like
Affectation
:
But
here
you
must
give
me
leave
to
turn
you
own
Simile
upon
you
:
Can
a
Man
be
justly
accus'd
of
Niceness
or
Affectation
,
because
he
appears
offended
at
a
Stink
?
When
I
tell
you
that
Quibbling
is
extreamly
foolish
;
You
know
it
is
foolish
enough
,
you
reply
;
but
it
is
a
foolish
thing
that
diverts
.
And
do
you
think
this
Knowledge
of
it
will
excuse
the
Folly
?
Give
me
leave
to
resume
the
aforemention'd
Simile
:
Suppose
a
Fellow
who
beaks
Wind
,
should
say
to
the
Company
,
while
they
are
cajoling
their
offended
Noses
with
Snuff
,
Look
you
Gentlemen
,
I
know
I
am
a
brutal
Dog
for
this
,
this
is
very
nasty
,
but
Begad
it
is
very
Diverting
:
Would
the
Excuse
,
think
you
,
be
current
?
A
Quibble
diverts
:
Right
;
and
so
does
a
Hobby-horse
,
which
in
my
Mind
,
for
those
who
can
be
diverted
without
Reason
,
is
the
better
Bawble
of
the
two
.
A
Quibble
diverts
:
Jesu
!
That
this
should
be
spoken
at
Will
's
?
Can
there
be
a
more
damnable
Satyr
upon
Wit
,
than
that
so
many
Gentlemen
who
have
so
very
much
of
it
,
should
be
forc'd
to
play
the
Fool
to
divert
one
another
?
But
,
for
God's
sake
,
what
do
you
mean
when
you
say
a
Quibble
diverts
you
?
It
makes
you
laugh
,
I
warrant
:
Why
the
greatest
Coxcomb
about
the
Town
shall
out-do
you
in
Laughing
at
any
time
.
Nature
,
who
has
dealt
impartially
with
her
Children
,
and
who
has
given
them
but
two
Distinctions
from
Beasts
,
Reason
and
Laughter
,
has
,
where
she
has
bestow'd
the
more
of
the
One
,
conferr'd
the
less
of
the
Other
:
And
therefore
a
Coxcomb
will
laugh
at
nothing
.
Ay
,
that
indeed
,
say
you
,
is
a
Sign
of
a
Fool.
Well
,
my
dear
Friend
,
I
have
so
much
Kindness
for
thee
,
that
out
of
thy
own
Mouth
,
thou
shalt
not
be
Judged
:
For
if
a
Quibble
is
not
Wit
,
it
is
nothing
.
But
it
is
at
as
great
a
Distance
from
Wit
,
as
an
Idol
is
from
the
Deity
;
and
I
will
no
more
believe
nauseous
Equivocals
to
be
Wit
,
because
some
Sots
have
admir'd
them
,
than
I
will
believe
Garlick
to
be
God
,
because
the
Aegyptians
ador'd
it
:
Nay
,
it
is
a
more
damnable
Sign
of
Stupidity
in
an
English
Man
,
to
make
Wit
of
a
Quibble
,
than
it
was
in
the
Aegyptians
,
to
make
a
God
of
their
Garlick
.
But
to
return
from
whence
I
digressed
;
I
have
never
appear'd
so
much
a
Stoick
,
but
that
I
have
been
as
much
for
Diversion
as
any
of
you
:
But
then
am
I
for
the
Diversion
of
reasonable
Men
,
and
of
Gentlemen
.
If
there
be
any
Diversion
in
Quibbling
,
it
is
a
Diversion
of
which
a
Fool
and
a
Porter
is
as
capable
as
is
the
best
of
you
.
And
therefore
Ben.
Johnson
,
who
writ
every
thing
with
Judgment
,
and
who
knew
the
Scum
of
the
People
,
whenever
he
brings
in
a
Porter
or
Tankard-bearer
,
is
sure
to
introduce
him
Quibbling
.
But
if
Punning
be
a
Diversion
,
it
is
a
very
strange
one
:
There
is
as
much
Difference
between
the
silly
Satisfaction
which
we
have
from
a
Quibble
,
and
the
ravishing
Pleasure
which
we
receive
from
a
beautiful
Thought
,
as
there
is
betwixt
a
faint
Salute
and
Fruition
.
But
what
would
you
have
us
do
?
you
cry
.
Men
of
the
greatest
Parts
are
no
more
to
be
found
with
Wit
always
about
them
,
than
rich
Rogues
with
always
the
Ready
.
Why
,
look
you
,
Sir
,
as
the
first
Step
to
Wisdom
is
to
be
freed
from
Folly
;
so
the
first
Approach
to
Wit
is
a
Contempt
of
Quibbling
.
If
it
happens
at
any
time
that
you
have
not
your
Wit
about
you
,
we
will
either
have
patience
till
such
time
as
you
have
,
or
take
good
Sence
in
the
lieu
of
it
:
If
you
are
not
in
a
Condition
to
delight
us
,
we
will
be
contented
to
be
Instructed
;
we
will
make
your
Instruction
nourish
our
Vanity
,
so
turn
even
that
to
Delight
.
Nay
,
there
is
something
noble
in
right
Reason
,
and
consequently
something
delightful
.
Truth
is
so
divinely
beautiful
,
that
it
must
please
eternally
;
but
Falshood
is
base
,
and
must
shock
all
generous
Minds
,
and
every
Equivocal
is
but
ambiguous
Falshood
,
that
is
the
pittiful'st
,
the
basest
of
Falshood
.
To
Walter
Moyle
,
Esq
Dear
Sir
,
THo'
you
are
already
indebted
a
Letter
to
me
,
yet
I
think
fit
to
give
you
Credit
for
another
;
tho'
perhaps
you
may
little
desire
to
run
into
Debt
this
way
:
But
it
is
for
two
Reasons
that
I
give
you
the
trouble
of
this
:
For
,
in
the
first
place
,
I
am
taking
a
turn
for
a
little
time
into
the
Country
,
and
I
design
that
the
Prevention
of
this
should
make
some
Amends
for
the
Delay
of
my
next
.
In
the
Second
place
,
I
have
made
some
Provision
of
Scandal
,
which
I
am
willing
to
make
use
of
,
before
it
grow
stale
upon
my
Hands
.
Just
after
I
writ
my
last
,
I
threw
my self
into
a
detach'd
Party
,
which
march'd
from
Will
's
to
Namure
;
with
the
same
Design
that
the
Volunteers
went
to
Brest
,
to
keep
out
of
the
Fray
,
and
be
Spectators
of
the
Action
.
However
,
before
they
were
come
to
Blows
,
I
went
amongst
the
Tents
,
and
had
some
Discourse
with
Major-General
R
—
,
whom
I
found
to
be
Father
to
Mr.
Bays
his
Parthenope
.
For
the
Major-General
is
a
very
honest
Fellow
,
who
sells
Ale
by
the
Town-Wall
:
We
had
the
Satisfaction
to
see
that
the
Town
was
taken
,
and
the
whole
Siege
was
carried
on
as
Sieges
generally
are
,
with
a
great
deal
more
Noise
than
Mischief
.
On
Monday
last
,
which
was
the
Second
of
September
,
I
travell'd
into
the
City
,
where
I
had
the
Satisfaction
to
see
two
very
ridiculous
Sights
.
The
first
was
a
Bawd
carted
for
an
Action
which
had
some
Relation
to
that
memorable
Day
:
For
she
was
convicted
of
being
an
Accomplice
in
setting
Fire
to
an
Ancient
and
Venerable
Pile
of
the
City
;
that
is
,
she
was
found
Guilty
of
being
instrumental
in
the
Clapping
an
Alderman
.
I
stood
in
a
Bookseller's
Shop
to
see
her
pass
,
which
Bookseller
was
packing
up
some
Scoundrel
Authors
to
send
them
away
to
the
Plantations
.
These
Authors
are
Criminals
,
which
being
sentenc'd
to
be
Burut
here
,
have
at
last
found
Grace
,
and
got
off
with
Transportation
.
You
remember
the
terrible
News
that
we
heard
at
P
—
,
which
,
as
it
sprung
from
a
ridiculous
Occasion
,
that
is
,
my
Lady
Mayoress's
Gossipping
,
has
had
a
comical
Consequence
.
For
the
Common
Council
have
made
an
Order
,
by
which
my
Lady
Mayoress
is
dispens'd
during
the
Wars
,
from
seeing
those
Children
born
in
the
City
,
which
are
got
in
the
Suburbs
;
that
is
,
from
being
present
at
one
of
their
Wive's
Labours
.
But
't
is
time
to
return
to
the
Fair.
Last
Night
I
took
a
turn
in
the
Cloisters
,
where
I
was
entertain'd
with
a
great
many
Dialogues
between
Vizour
and
Vallancy
Wig
,
upon
which
I
leave
you
to
be
Judge
,
whether
my
Eyes
or
my
Ears
were
the
better
entertain'd
of
the
two
.
For
I
heard
a
great
deal
of
Unintelligible
Language
,
address'd
to
a
great
many
Invisible
Faces
.
As
if
,
because
the
Women
had
resolv'd
not
to
be
seen
,
the
Men
had
determin'd
not
to
be
Understood
;
and
had
in
revenge
eclips'd
the
Light
of
their
Understanding
by
Fustian
,
as
the
others
had
obscur'd
the
Lustre
of
their
Eyes
by
Velvet
.
Formerly
the
Ladies
made
use
of
White
and
Red
to
atract
,
but
within
these
thirty
Years
black
has
succeeded
,
and
the
Devil
is
found
more
Tempting
in
his
proper
Colour
.
I
have
neither
time
nor
place
for
any
more
:
you
shall
have
the
rest
by
the
first
Opportunity
.
Yours
,
&c.
To
Mr.
Congreve
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Have
now
read
over
the
Fox
,
in
which
,
tho'
I
admire
the
Strength
of
Ben.
Johnson's
Judgment
,
yet
I
did
not
find
it
so
accurate
as
I
expected
:
For
first
the
very
thing
upon
which
the
whole
Plot
turns
,
and
that
is
,
the
Discovery
which
Mosca
makes
to
Bonario
;
seems
to
me
,
to
be
very
unreasonable
.
For
I
can
see
no
Reason
why
he
should
make
that
Discovery
which
introduces
Bonorio
into
his
Master's
House
.
For
the
Reason
which
the
Poet
makes
Mosca
give
in
the
ninth
Scene
of
the
third
Act
,
appears
to
be
a
very
absurd
one
.
Secondly
,
Corbaccio
,
the
Father
of
Bonario
,
is
expos'd
for
his
Deafness
,
a
personal
Defect
;
which
is
contrary
to
the
end
of
Comedy-Instruction
:
For
personal
Defects
cannot
be
amended
;
and
the
exposing
such
,
can
never
divert
any
but
half-witted
Men.
It
cannot
fail
to
bring
a
thinking
Man
to
reflect
upon
the
Misery
of
Human
Nature
;
and
into
what
he
may
fall
himself
without
any
Fault
of
his
own
.
Thirdly
,
The
Play
has
two
Characters
,
which
have
nothing
to
do
with
the
Design
of
it
,
which
are
to
be
look'd
upon
as
Excrescencies
.
Lastly
,
the
Character
of
Volpone
is
inconsistent
with
it self
:
Volpone
is
like
Catiline
,
Alieni
appetens
,
sui
profusus
;
but
that
is
only
a
Double
in
his
Nature
,
and
not
an
Inconsistence
.
The
Inconsistence
of
the
Character
appears
in
this
,
that
Volpone
in
the
fifth
Act
behaves
himself
like
a
giddy
Coxcomb
,
in
the
Conduct
of
that
very
Affair
which
he
manag'd
so
Craftily
in
the
first
four
.
In
which
the
Poet
offends
,
first
,
against
that
fam'd
Rule
which
Horace
gives
for
the
Characters
,
Servetur
ad
imum
,
Qualis
ab
incepto
processerit
,
&
sibi
constet
.
And
,
Secondly
,
Against
Nature
,
upon
which
all
the
Rules
are
grounded
:
For
so
strange
an
Alteration
,
in
so
little
a
time
,
is
not
in
Nature
,
unless
it
happens
by
the
Accident
of
some
violent
Passion
;
which
is
not
the
Case
here
.
Volpone
on
the
sudden
behaves
himself
without
common
Discretion
,
in
the
Conduct
of
that
very
Affair
which
he
had
manag'd
with
so
much
Dexterity
,
for
the
space
of
three
Years
together
.
For
why
does
he
disguise
himself
?
Or
,
why
does
he
repose
the
last
Confidence
in
Mosca
?
Why
does
he
cause
it
to
be
given
out
that
he
's
dead
?
Why
,
only
to
plague
his
Bubbles
.
To
plague
them
,
for
what
?
Why
only
for
having
been
his
Bubbles
.
So
that
here
is
the
greatest
Alteration
in
the
World
,
in
the
space
of
twenty
four
Hours
,
without
any
apparent
Cause
.
The
Design
of
Volpone
is
to
Cheat
,
he
has
carried
on
a
Cheat
for
three
Years
together
,
with
Cunning
and
with
Success
:
and
yet
he
,
on
a
sudden
,
in
cold
Blood
,
does
a
thing
which
he
cannot
but
know
must
endanger
the
ruining
all
.
I
am
,
dear
Sir
,
your
most
humble
Servant
.
To
Mr.
Congreve
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Will
not
augment
the
Trouble
which
I
give
you
by
making
an
Apology
for
not
giving
it
you
sooner
.
Tho'
I
am
heartily
sorry
that
I
kept
such
a
Trifle
as
the
Inclos'd
,
and
a
Trifle
writ
extempore
,
long
enough
to
make
you
expect
a
labour'd
Letter
.
But
because
in
the
Inclos'd
,
I
have
spoken
particularly
of
Ben.
Johnson's
Fox
,
I
desire
to
say
three
or
four
words
of
some
of
his
Plays
more
generally
:
The
Plots
of
the
Fox
,
the
Silent
Woman
,
the
Alchimist
,
are
all
of
them
very
Artful
.
But
the
Intrigues
of
the
Fox
,
and
the
Alchimist
,
seem
to
me
to
be
more
dexterously
Perplex'd
,
than
to
be
happily
Disentangled
.
But
the
Gordian
Knot
in
the
Silent
Woman
is
untyed
with
so
much
Felicity
,
that
that
alone
may
suffice
to
shew
Ben.
Johnson
no
ordinary
Heroe
.
But
then
,
perhaps
,
the
Silent
Woman
may
want
the
very
Foundation
of
a
good
Comedy
,
which
the
other
two
cannot
be
said
to
want
:
For
it
seems
to
me
,
to
be
without
a
Moral
.
Upon
which
Absurdity
,
Ben.
Johnson
was
driven
by
the
Singularity
of
Morose's
Character
,
which
is
too
extravagant
for
Instruction
,
and
fit
,
in
my
Opinion
,
only
for
Farce
.
For
this
seems
to
me
,
to
constit
ute
the
most
essential
Difference
,
betwixt
Farce
and
Comedy
,
that
the
Follies
which
are
expos'd
in
Farce
are
singular
;
and
those
are
particular
,
which
are
expos'd
in
Comedy
.
These
last
are
those
,
with
which
some
part
of
an
Audiance
may
be
suppos'd
infected
,
and
to
which
all
may
be
suppos'd
obnoxious
.
But
the
first
are
so
very
odd
,
that
by
reason
of
their
monstrous
Extravagance
,
they
cannot
be
thought
to
concern
an
Audience
;
and
cannot
be
supposed
to
instruct
them
.
For
the
rest
of
the
Characters
in
these
Plays
,
they
are
for
the
most
part
true
,
and
most
of
the
Humorous
Characters
Master-pieces
.
For
Ben.
Johnson's
Fools
,
seem
to
shew
his
Wit
a
great
deal
more
than
his
Men
of
Sence
:
I
admire
his
Fops
,
and
but
barely
esteem
his
Gentlemen
.
Ben.
seems
to
draw
Deformity
more
to
the
Life
than
Beauty
:
He
is
often
so
eager
to
pursue
Folly
,
that
he
forgets
to
take
Wit
along
with
him
.
For
the
Dialogue
,
it
seems
to
want
very
often
that
Spirit
,
that
Grace
,
and
that
noble
Railery
,
which
are
to
be
found
in
more
modern
Plays
,
and
which
are
Virtues
that
ought
to
be
inseparable
from
a
finish'd
Comedy
.
But
there
seems
to
be
one
thing
more
wanting
than
all
the
rest
,
and
that
is
Passion
,
I
mean
that
fine
and
that
delicate
Passion
,
by
which
the
Soul
shews
its
Politeness
,
ev'n
in
the
midst
of
its
Trouble
.
Now
to
touch
a
Passion
is
the
surest
way
to
Delight
;
for
nothing
agitates
like
it
:
Agitation
is
the
Health
and
Joy
of
the
Soul
,
of
which
it
is
so
entirely
fond
,
that
even
then
,
when
we
imagine
we
seek
Repose
,
we
only
seek
Agitation
.
You
know
what
a
famous
modern
Critick
has
said
of
Comedy
:
Il
faut
que
ses
Acteurs
badinent
noblement
,
Que
son
Noeud
bien
forme
se
denoue
aisement
;
Que
l'action
Marchant
ou
la
Raison
la
Guide
,
Ne
se
perde
Jamma
dans
une
Scens
vuide
,
Que
son
Stile
humble
&
doux
se
releue
a
propos
,
Que
ses
discours
par
tout
fertiles
enbons
mots
,
Soient
pleius
de
Passions
finement
maniees
,
Et
les
Scenes
toujours
l'une
al'autre
liee
.
I
leave
you
to
make
the
Application
to
Johnson
—
Whatever
I
have
said
my self
of
his
Comedies
,
I
submit
to
your
better
Judgment
.
For
you
,
who
,
after
Mr.
Wycherley
,
are
incomparably
the
best
Writer
of
it
living
,
ought
to
be
allowed
to
be
the
best
Judge
too
.
I
am
yours
,
&c.
Mr.
Congreve
,
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
Concerning
Humour
in
COMEDY
.
Dear
Sir
,
YOu
write
to
me
,
that
you
have
entertained
your self
two
or
three
days
,
with
reading
several
Comedies
,
of
several
Authors
;
and
your
Observation
is
,
That
there
is
more
of
Humour
in
our
English
Writers
,
than
in
any
of
the
other
Comick
Poets
,
Ancient
or
Modern
.
You
desire
to
know
my
Opinion
,
and
at
the
same
time
my
Thought
,
of
that
which
is
generally
call'd
Humour
in
Comedy
.
I
agree
with
you
,
in
an
impartial
Preference
of
our
English
Writers
,
in
that
particular
.
But
if
I
tell
you
my
Thoughts
of
Humour
,
I
must
at
the
same
time
confess
,
that
what
I
take
for
true
Humour
,
has
not
been
so
often
written
even
by
them
,
as
is
generally
believed
:
And
some
who
have
valued
themselves
,
and
have
been
esteem'd
by
others
,
for
that
kind
of
Writing
,
have
seldom
touch'd
upon
it
.
To
make
this
appear
to
the
World
,
would
require
a
long
and
labour'd
Discourse
,
and
such
as
I
neither
am
able
nor
willing
to
undertake
.
But
such
little
Remarks
,
as
may
be
contain'd
within
the
Compass
of
a
Letter
,
and
such
unpremeditated
Thoughts
,
as
may
be
communicated
between
Friend
and
Friend
,
without
incurring
the
Censure
of
the
World
,
or
setting
up
for
a
Dictator
,
you
shall
have
from
me
,
since
you
have
enjoyn'd
it
.
To
define
Humour
,
perhaps
,
where
as
difficult
,
as
to
define
Wit
;
for
like
that
,
it
is
of
infinite
Variety
.
To
enumerate
the
several
Humours
of
Men
,
were
a
Work
as
endless
,
as
to
sum
up
their
several
Opinions
.
And
in
my
mind
,
the
Quot
homines
tot
Sententia
,
might
have
been
more
properly
interpreted
of
Humour
;
since
there
are
many
Men
,
of
the
same
Opinion
in
many
things
,
who
are
yet
quite
different
in
Humours
.
But
tho'
we
cannot
certainly
tell
what
Wit
is
,
or
what
Humour
is
,
yet
we
may
go
near
to
shew
something
,
which
is
not
Wit
or
not
Humour
;
and
yet
often
mistaken
for
both
.
And
since
I
have
mentioned
Wit
and
Humour
together
,
let
me
make
the
first
Distinction
between
them
,
and
observe
to
you
,
that
Wit
is
often
mistaken
for
Humour
.
I
have
observed
,
that
when
a
few
things
have
been
wittily
and
pleasantly
spoken
by
any
Character
in
a
Comedy
,
it
has
been
very
usual
for
those
,
who
make
their
Remarks
on
a
Play
,
while
it
is
acting
,
to
say
,
Such
a
thing
is
very
humorously
spoken
;
There
is
a
great
deal
of
Humour
in
that
Part.
Thus
the
Character
of
the
Person
speaking
,
may
be
,
surprisingly
and
pleasantly
,
is
mistaken
for
a
Character
of
Humour
;
which
indeed
is
a
Character
of
Wit
:
But
there
is
a
great
Difference
between
a
Comedy
,
wherein
there
are
many
things
humorously
,
as
they
call
it
,
which
is
pleasantly
spoken
;
and
one
,
where
there
are
several
Characters
of
Humour
,
distinguish'd
by
the
particular
and
different
Humours
,
appropriated
to
the
several
Persons
represented
,
and
which
naturally
arise
from
the
different
Constitutions
,
Complexions
,
and
Dispositions
of
Men.
The
saying
of
Humorous
Things
,
does
not
distinguish
Characters
;
for
every
Person
in
a
Comedy
may
be
allow'd
to
speak
them
.
From
a
witty
Man
they
are
expected
;
and
even
a
Fool
may
be
permitted
to
stumble
on
'em
by
chance
.
Tho'
I
make
a
Difference
betwixt
Wit
and
Humour
;
yet
I
do
not
think
that
Humorous
Characters
exclude
Wit
:
No
,
but
the
manner
of
Wit
should
be
adapted
to
the
Humour
.
As
for
Instance
,
A
Character
of
a
Splenetick
and
Peevish
Humour
,
should
have
a
Satyrical
Wit
;
a
Jolly
and
Sanguine
Humour
,
should
have
a
Facetious
Wit
:
The
former
should
speak
positively
;
the
latter
,
carelesly
:
For
the
former
observes
,
and
shews
things
as
they
are
;
the
latter
rather
overlooks
Nature
,
and
speaks
things
as
he
would
have
them
;
and
his
Wit
and
Humour
have
both
of
them
a
less
Alloy
of
Judgment
than
the
others
.
As
Wit
,
so
,
its
opposite
,
Folly
,
is
sometimes
mistaken
for
Humour
.
When
a
Poet
brings
a
Character
on
the
Stage
,
committing
a
thousand
Absurdities
,
and
talking
Impertinencies
,
Roaring
aloud
,
and
Laughing
immoderately
,
on
every
,
or
rather
upon
no
occasion
;
this
is
a
Character
of
Humour
.
Is
any
thing
more
common
,
than
to
have
a
pretended
Comedy
,
stuff'd
with
such
Grotesque
Figures
,
and
Farce-Fools
?
Things
,
that
either
are
not
in
Nature
,
or
if
they
are
,
are
Monsters
,
and
Births
of
Mischance
;
and
consequently
as
such
,
should
be
stifled
,
and
huddled
out
of
the
way
,
like
Sooterkins
,
that
Mankind
may
not
be
shock'd
with
an
appearing
Possibility
of
the
Degeneration
of
a
God-like
Species
.
For
my
part
,
I
am
as
willing
to
Laugh
,
as
any
body
,
and
as
easily
diverted
with
an
Object
truly
ridiculous
:
but
at
the
same
time
,
I
can
never
care
for
seeing
things
,
that
force
me
to
entertain
low
Thoughts
of
my
Nature
.
I
don't
know
how
it
is
with
others
,
but
I
confess
freely
to
you
,
I
could
never
look
long
upon
a
Monkey
,
without
very
mortifying
Reflections
;
tho'
I
never
heard
any
thing
to
the
contrary
,
why
that
Creature
is
not
Originally
of
a
distinct
Species
.
As
I
don't
think
Humour
exclusive
of
Wit
,
neither
do
I
think
it
inconsistent
with
Folly
;
but
I
think
the
Follies
should
be
only
such
,
as
Mens
Humours
may
incline
'em
to
;
and
not
Follies
intirely
abstracted
from
both
Humour
and
Nature
.
Sometimes
personal
Defects
are
misrepresented
for
Humours
.
I
mean
,
sometimes
Characters
are
barbarously
exposed
on
the
Stage
,
ridiculing
natural
Deformities
,
casual
Defects
in
the
Senses
,
and
Infirmities
of
Age.
Sure
the
Poet
must
both
be
very
Ill-natur'd
himself
,
and
think
his
Audience
so
,
when
he
proposes
by
shewing
a
Man
deform'd
,
or
deaf
,
or
blind
,
to
give
them
an
agreeable
Entertainment
;
and
hopes
to
raise
their
Mirth
,
by
what
is
truly
an
agreeable
of
Compassion
.
But
much
need
not
to
be
laid
upon
this
Head
to
any
body
,
especially
to
you
,
who
in
one
of
your
Letters
to
me
concerning
Mr.
Johnson's
Fox
,
have
justly
excepted
against
this
Immoral
Part
of
Ridicule
in
Corbaccio's
Character
;
and
there
I
must
agree
with
you
to
blame
him
,
whom
otherwise
I
cannot
enough
admire
,
for
his
great
Mastery
of
true
Humour
in
Comedy
.
External
Habit
of
Body
is
often
mistaken
for
Humour
.
By
External
Habit
,
I
do
not
mean
the
ridiculous
Dress
or
Cloathing
of
a
Character
,
tho'
that
goes
a
good
way
in
some
received
Characters
;
(
but
undoubtedly
a
Man's
Humour
may
incline
him
to
dress
differently
from
other
People
)
but
I
mean
a
Singularity
of
Manners
,
Speech
,
and
Behaviour
,
peculiar
to
all
,
or
most
of
the
same
Country
,
Trade
,
Profession
or
Education
.
I
cannot
think
that
a
Humour
,
which
is
only
a
Habit
,
or
Disposition
contracted
by
Use
or
Custom
;
for
by
a
Disuse
,
or
Compliance
with
other
Customs
,
it
may
be
worn
off
,
or
diversifi'd
.
Affectation
is
generally
mistaken
for
Humour
.
These
are
indeed
so
much
alike
,
that
,
at
a
distance
,
they
may
be
mistaken
one
for
the
other
:
For
what
is
Humour
in
one
,
may
be
Affectation
in
another
;
and
nothing
is
more
common
,
than
for
some
to
affect
particular
ways
of
saying
,
and
doing
things
,
peculiar
to
others
,
whom
they
admire
and
would
imitate
.
Humour
is
the
Life
,
Affectation
the
Picture
.
He
that
draws
a
Character
of
Affectation
,
shews
Humour
at
the
Second-hand
;
he
at
best
but
publishes
a
Translation
,
and
his
Pictures
are
but
Copies
.
But
as
these
two
last
Distinctions
are
the
nicest
,
so
it
may
be
most
proper
to
explain
them
,
by
particular
Instances
from
some
Author
of
Reputation
.
Humour
I
take
either
to
be
born
with
us
,
and
so
of
a
natural
Growth
;
or
else
to
be
grafted
into
us
by
some
accidental
Change
in
the
Constitution
,
or
Revolution
of
the
internal
Habit
of
Body
;
by
which
it
becomes
,
if
I
may
so
call
it
,
naturaliz'd
.
Humour
is
from
Nature
,
Habit
from
Custom
;
and
Affectation
from
Industry
.
Humour
shews
us
as
we
are
.
Habit
shews
us
,
as
we
appear
,
under
a
forcible
Impression
.
Affectation
shews
what
we
would
be
,
under
a
voluntary
Disguise
.
Tho'
here
I
would
observe
by
the
way
,
that
a
continued
Affectation
,
may
in
time
become
a
Habit.
The
Character
of
Morose
in
the
Silent
Woman
,
I
take
to
be
a
Character
of
Humour
.
And
I
choose
to
Instance
this
Character
to
you
,
from
many
others
of
the
same
Author
,
because
I
know
it
has
been
condemn'd
by
many
as
Unnatural
and
Farce
:
And
you
have
your self
hinted
some
Dislike
of
it
,
for
the
same
reason
,
in
a
Letter
to
me
,
concerning
some
of
Johnson's
Plays
.
Let
us
suppose
Morose
to
be
a
Man
naturally
Splenetick
and
Melancholy
;
is
there
any
thing
more
offensive
to
one
of
such
a
Disposition
,
than
Noise
and
Clamour
?
Let
any
Man
that
has
the
Spleen
(
and
there
are
enough
in
England
)
be
Judge
.
We
see
common
Examples
of
this
Humour
in
Little
every
Day
.
'T
is
ten
to
one
,
but
three
parts
in
four
of
the
Company
that
you
dine
with
,
are
discompos'd
and
startled
at
the
Cutting
of
a
Cork
,
or
Scratching
a
Plate
with
a
Knife
:
It
is
a
Proportion
of
the
same
Humour
,
that
makes
such
or
any
other
Noise
offensive
to
the
Person
that
hears
it
;
for
there
are
others
who
will
not
be
disturb'd
at
all
by
it
.
Well
;
but
Morose
,
you
will
say
,
is
so
extravagant
,
he
cannot
bear
any
Discourse
or
Conversation
,
above
a
Whisper
.
Why
,
it
is
his
Excess
of
this
Humour
,
that
makes
him
become
rediculous
,
and
qualifies
his
Character
for
Comedy
.
If
the
Poet
had
given
him
but
a
moderate
proportion
of
that
Humour
,
't
is
odds
but
half
the
Audience
,
would
have
sided
with
the
Character
,
and
have
condemn'd
the
Author
,
for
exposing
a
Humour
which
was
neither
remarkable
nor
rediculous
.
Besides
,
the
Distance
of
the
Stage
requires
the
Figure
represented
,
to
be
something
larger
than
the
Life
;
and
sure
a
Picture
may
have
Features
larger
in
Proportion
,
and
yet
be
very
like
the
Original
.
If
this
Exactness
of
Quantity
,
were
to
be
observed
in
Wit
,
as
some
would
have
it
in
Humour
;
what
would
become
of
those
Characters
that
are
design'd
for
Men
of
Wit
?
I
believe
if
a
Poet
should
steal
a
Dialogue
of
any
length
,
from
the
extempore
Discourse
of
the
two
wittiest
Men
upon
Earth
,
he
would
find
the
Scene
but
coldly
receiv'd
by
the
Town
.
But
to
the
purpose
:
The
Character
of
Sir
John
Daw
in
the
same
Play
,
is
a
Character
of
Affectation
:
He
every-where
discovers
an
Affectation
of
Learning
;
when
he
is
not
only
conscious
to
himself
,
but
the
Audience
also
plainly
perceives
that
he
is
Ignorant
.
Of
this
kind
are
the
Characters
of
Thraso
in
the
Eunuch
of
Terence
,
and
Pyrgopolinices
in
the
Miles
Gloriosus
of
Plautus
:
They
affect
to
be
thought
Valiant
,
when
both
themselves
and
the
Audience
know
they
are
not
.
Now
such
a
Boasting
of
Valour
in
Men
who
were
really
Valiant
,
would
undoubtedly
be
a
Humour
;
for
a
fiery
Disposition
might
naturally
throw
a
Man
into
the
same
Extravagance
,
which
is
only
affected
in
the
Characters
I
have
mentioned
.
The
Character
of
Cob
in
Every
Man
in
his
Humour
,
and
most
of
the
under
Characters
in
Bartholomew-fair
,
discover'd
only
a
Singularity
of
Manners
,
appropriated
to
the
several
Educations
and
Professions
of
the
Persons
represented
.
They
are
not
Humours
but
Habits
contracted
by
Custom
.
Under
this
Head
may
be
ranged
all
Country
Clowns
,
Sailers
,
Tradesmen
,
Jockeys
,
Gamesters
and
such
like
,
who
make
use
of
Cants
or
peculiar
Dialects
in
their
several
Arts
and
Vocations
.
One
may
almost
give
a
Receipt
for
the
Composition
of
such
a
Character
:
For
the
Poet
has
nothing
to
do
,
but
to
collect
a
few
proper
Phrases
and
Terms
of
Art
,
and
to
make
the
Person
apply
them
by
rediculous
Metaphors
in
his
Conversation
,
with
Characters
of
different
Natures
.
Some
late
Characters
of
this
kind
have
been
very
successful
;
but
in
my
mind
they
may
be
painted
without
much
Art
or
Labour
;
since
they
require
little
more
,
than
a
good
Memory
and
superficial
Observation
.
But
true
Humour
cannot
be
shown
without
a
Dissection
of
Nature
,
and
a
narrow
Search
to
discover
the
first
Seeds
from
whence
it
has
its
Root
and
Growth
.
If
I
were
to
write
to
the
World
,
I
should
be
obliged
to
dwell
longer
upon
each
of
these
Distinctions
and
Examples
;
for
I
know
that
they
would
not
be
plain
enough
to
all
Readers
:
But
a
bare
Hint
is
sufficient
to
inform
you
of
the
Notions
which
I
have
on
this
Subject
:
and
I
hope
by
this
time
you
are
of
my
Opinion
,
that
Humour
is
neither
Wit
,
nor
Folly
,
nor
personal
Defect
,
nor
Affectation
,
nor
Habit
;
and
yet
,
that
each
,
and
all
of
these
,
have
been
both
written
and
received
for
Humour
.
I
should
be
unwilling
to
venture
even
on
a
bare
Description
of
Humour
,
much
more
to
make
a
Definition
of
it
;
but
now
my
hand
is
in
,
I
'll
tell
you
what
serves
me
instead
of
either
:
I
take
it
to
be
,
A
singular
and
unavoidable
manner
of
doing
,
or
saying
any
thing
,
peculiar
and
natural
to
one
Man
only
;
by
which
his
Speech
and
Actions
are
destinguish'd
from
those
of
other
Men.
Our
Humour
has
relation
to
us
,
and
to
what
proceeds
from
us
,
as
the
Accidents
have
to
a
Substance
;
it
is
a
Colour
,
Taste
,
and
Smell
,
diffused
thro'
all
;
tho'
our
Actions
are
never
so
many
,
and
different
in
Form
,
they
are
all
Splinters
of
the
same
Wood
,
and
have
naturally
one
Complexion
;
which
tho'
it
may
be
disguised
by
Art
,
yet
cannot
be
wholly
changed
:
We
may
paint
it
with
other
Colours
,
but
we
cannot
change
the
Grain
.
So
the
natural
Sound
of
an
Instument
will
be
distinguish'd
,
tho'
the
Notes
expressed
by
it
,
are
never
so
various
,
and
the
Diversions
never
so
many
.
Dissimulation
,
may
by
degrees
,
become
more
easie
to
our
Practice
;
but
it
can
never
absolutely
transubstantiate
us
into
what
we
would
seem
:
it
will
always
be
in
some
proportion
a
Violence
upon
Nature
.
A
Man
may
change
his
Opinion
,
but
I
believe
he
will
find
it
a
Difficulty
to
part
with
his
Humour
;
and
there
is
nothing
more
provoking
,
than
the
being
made
sensible
of
that
Difficulty
.
Sometimes
,
one
shall
meet
with
those
,
who
perhaps
,
innocently
enough
,
but
at
the
same
time
impertiently
,
will
ask
the
Question
,
Why
are
you
not
merry
?
Why
are
you
not
gay
,
pleasant
,
and
cheerful
?
Then
instead
of
answering
,
could
I
ask
such
one
,
Why
are
you
not
handsome
?
Why
have
you
not
black
Eyes
,
and
a
better
Complexion
?
Nature
abhors
to
be
forc'd
.
The
two
famous
Philosophers
of
Ephesus
and
Abdera
,
have
their
different
Sects
at
this
Day
:
Some
weep
,
and
others
laugh
at
one
and
the
same
thing
.
I
don't
doubt
,
but
you
have
observed
several
Men
laugh
when
they
are
angry
;
others
who
are
silent
;
some
that
are
loud
:
Yet
I
cannot
suppose
that
it
is
the
Passion
of
Anger
which
is
in
it self
different
,
or
more
or
less
in
one
than
t'other
;
but
that
it
is
the
Humour
of
the
Man
that
is
predominant
,
and
urges
him
to
express
it
in
that
manner
.
Demonstrations
of
Pleasure
are
as
various
;
one
Man
has
a
Humour
of
retiring
from
all
Company
,
when
any
thing
has
happen'd
to
please
him
beyond
Expectation
;
he
hugs
himself
alone
,
and
thinks
it
an
addition
to
the
Pleasure
to
keep
it
secret
.
Another
is
upon
Thorns
till
he
has
made
Proclamation
of
it
;
and
must
make
other
People
sensible
of
his
Happiness
,
before
he
can
be
so
himself
.
So
it
is
in
Grief
,
and
other
Passions
.
Demonstrations
of
Love
,
and
the
Effects
of
that
Passion
upon
several
Humours
,
are
infinitely
different
:
But
here
the
Ladies
,
who
abound
in
Servants
,
are
the
best
Judges
.
Talking
of
the
Ladies
,
methinks
something
should
be
observed
of
the
Humour
of
the
Fair
Sex
;
since
they
are
sometimes
so
kind
as
to
furnish
out
a
Character
for
Comedy
.
But
I
must
confess
I
have
never
made
any
Observation
of
what
I
apprehend
to
be
true
Humour
in
Women
.
Parhaps
Passions
are
too
powerful
in
that
Sex
,
to
let
Humour
have
its
Course
;
or
may
be
by
reason
of
their
natural
Coldness
,
Humour
cannot
exert
itself
to
that
extravagant
Degree
,
which
it
often
does
in
the
Male-sex
:
For
if
ever
any
thing
does
appear
comical
or
ridiculous
in
a
Woman
,
I
think
it
is
little
more
than
an
acquir'd
Folly
,
or
an
Affectation
.
We
may
call
them
the
weaker
Sex
,
but
I
think
the
true
reason
is
,
because
our
Follies
are
stronger
,
and
our
Faults
are
more
prevailing
.
One
might
think
that
the
Diversity
of
Humour
,
which
must
be
allowed
to
be
diffused
throughout
Mankind
,
might
afford
endless
Matter
,
for
the
support
of
Comedies
.
But
when
we
come
closely
to
consider
that
Point
,
and
nicely
to
distinguish
the
Difference
of
Humours
,
I
believe
we
shall
find
the
contrary
.
For
tho'
we
allow
every
Man
something
of
his
own
,
and
a
peculiar
Humour
;
yet
every
Man
has
it
not
in
quantity
,
to
become
remarkable
by
it
:
or
,
if
many
do
become
remarkable
by
their
Humours
;
yet
all
those
Humours
may
not
be
diverting
.
Nor
is
it
only
requisite
to
distinguish
what
Humour
will
be
diverting
,
but
also
how
much
of
it
,
what
part
of
it
to
shew
in
Light
,
and
what
to
cast
in
Shades
;
how
to
set
it
off
by
preparatory
Scenes
,
and
by
opposing
other
Humours
to
it
in
the
same
Scene
.
Thro'
a
wrong
Judgment
,
sometimes
,
Mens
Humours
may
be
opposed
when
there
is
really
no
specific
Difference
between
them
;
only
a
greater
proportion
of
the
same
,
in
one
than
t'other
;
occasion'd
by
having
more
Flegm
,
or
Choller
,
or
whatever
the
Constitution
is
,
from
whence
their
Humours
derive
their
Source
.
There
is
infinitely
more
to
be
said
on
this
Subject
;
tho'
perhaps
I
have
already
said
too
much
;
but
I
have
said
it
to
a
Friend
,
who
I
am
sure
will
not
expose
it
,
if
he
does
not
approve
of
it
.
I
believe
the
Subject
is
intirely
new
,
and
was
never
touch'd
upon
before
;
and
if
I
would
have
any
one
to
see
this
private
Essay
,
it
should
be
some
one
,
who
might
be
provoked
by
my
Errors
in
it
,
to
publish
a
more
judicious
Treatise
on
the
Subject
.
Indeed
I
wish
it
were
done
,
that
the
World
being
a
little
acquainted
with
the
Scarcity
of
true
Humour
,
and
the
Difficulty
of
finding
and
shewing
it
,
might
look
a
little
more
favourably
on
the
Labours
of
them
,
who
endeavour
to
search
into
Nature
for
it
,
and
lay
it
open
to
the
Publick
View
.
I
don't
say
but
that
very
entertaining
and
useful
Characters
,
and
proper
for
Comedy
,
may
be
drawn
from
Affectations
,
and
those
other
Qualities
,
which
I
have
endeavoured
to
distinguish
from
Humour
:
but
I
would
not
have
such
imposed
on
the
World
for
Humour
,
nor
esteem'd
of
equal
Value
with
it
.
It
were
,
perhaps
,
the
Work
of
a
long
Life
to
make
one
Comedy
true
in
all
its
Parts
,
and
to
give
every
Character
in
it
a
true
and
distinct
Humour
.
Therefore
,
every
Poet
must
be
beholding
to
other
Helps
,
to
make
out
his
Number
of
ridiculous
Characters
.
But
I
think
such
a
One
deserves
to
be
broke
,
who
makes
all
false
Musters
;
who
does
not
shew
one
true
Humour
in
a
Comedy
,
but
entertains
his
Audience
to
the
end
of
the
Play
with
every
thing
out
of
Nature
.
I
will
make
but
one
Observation
to
you
more
,
and
have
done
;
and
that
is
grounded
upon
an
Observation
of
your
own
,
and
which
I
mention'd
at
the
beginning
of
my
Letter
,
viz.
That
there
is
more
of
Humour
in
our
English
Comick
Writers
than
in
any
others
.
I
do
not
at
all
wonder
at
it
,
for
I
look
upon
Humour
to
be
almost
of
English
Growth
;
at
least
,
it
does
not
seem
to
have
found
such
Encrease
on
any
other
Soil
:
And
what
appears
to
me
to
be
the
reason
of
it
,
is
the
great
Freedom
,
Priviledge
,
and
Liberty
which
the
common
People
of
England
enjoy
.
Any
Man
that
has
a
Humour
,
is
under
no
Restraint
,
or
fear
of
giving
it
Vent
;
they
have
a
Proverb
among
them
,
which
,
may
be
,
will
shew
the
Bent
and
Genius
of
the
People
,
as
well
as
a
longer
Discourse
:
He
that
will
have
a
May-pole
,
shall
have
a
May-pole
.
This
is
a
Maxim
with
them
,
and
their
Practice
is
agreeable
to
it
.
I
believe
something
considerable
too
may
be
ascribed
to
their
feeding
so
much
on
Flesh
,
and
the
Grossness
of
their
Diet
in
general
.
But
I
have
done
,
let
the
Physicians
agree
that
.
Thus
you
have
my
Thoughts
of
Humour
,
to
my
Power
of
Expressing
them
in
so
little
Time
and
Compass
.
You
will
be
kind
to
shew
me
wherein
I
have
err'd
;
and
as
you
are
very
capable
of
giving
me
Instruction
,
so
I
think
I
have
a
very
just
Title
to
demand
it
from
you
;
being
,
without
Reserve
,
Your
real
Friend
,
and
humble
Servant
,
W.
CONGREVE
.
To
Mr.
Congreve
,
at
Tunbridge
.
Dear
Sir
,
MR.
Moyle
and
I
have
impatiently
expected
to
hear
from
you
.
But
if
the
Well
which
you
drink
of
had
sprung
up
from
Lethe
,
you
could
not
have
been
more
forgetful
of
us
.
Indeed
,
as
the
Tunbridge-water
is
good
for
the
Spleen
,
it
may
be
said
in
some
manner
to
cause
Oblivion
.
But
I
will
yet
a
while
hope
that
Mr.
Moyle
and
I
are
not
of
the
Number
of
Things
that
plague
you
:
However
,
I
am
so
sensible
of
your
being
mindful
of
me
in
Town
,
that
I
should
be
ungrateful
,
if
I
should
complain
that
you
do
not
remember
me
where
you
are
.
Mr.
Moyle
tells
me
that
you
have
made
a
favourable
Mention
of
me
,
to
a
certain
Lady
of
your
Acquaintance
,
whom
he
calls
—
But
then
to
mortifie
the
Old
Man
in
me
,
or
indeed
rather
the
Young
,
he
assur'd
me
,
that
you
had
given
a
much
better
Character
of
him
.
However
,
for
that
which
you
gave
of
me
,
I
cannot
but
own
my self
obliged
to
you
,
and
I
look
upon
your
Kindness
as
so
much
the
greater
,
because
I
am
sensible
that
I
do
not
deserve
it
.
And
I
could
almost
wish
that
your
good
Qualities
,
were
not
quite
so
numerous
,
that
I
might
be
able
to
make
you
some
Return
in
Specie
:
For
Commending
you
now
,
I
do
you
but
Justice
,
which
a
Man
of
Honour
will
do
to
his
Enemy
;
whereas
you
,
by
partial
Praise
,
have
treated
me
like
a
Friend
.
I
make
no
doubt
,
but
that
you
do
me
the
Justice
to
believe
that
I
am
perfectly
yours
;
and
that
your
Merit
has
engag'd
me
,
and
your
Favours
oblig'd
me
to
be
all
my
Life-time
,
Dear
Sir
,
your
most
humble
Servant
,
J.
DENNIS
.
Mr.
Congreve
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
Dear
Sir
,
IT
is
not
more
to
keep
my
Word
,
than
to
gratifie
my
Inclination
,
that
I
write
to
you
;
and
tho'
I
have
thus
long
deferr'd
it
,
I
was
never
forgetful
of
you
,
nor
of
my
Promise
.
Indeed
I
waited
in
Expectation
of
something
that
might
enable
me
to
return
the
Entertainment
I
received
from
your
Letters
:
but
you
represent
the
Town
so
agreeable
to
me
,
that
you
quite
put
me
out
of
Conceit
with
the
Country
;
and
my
Designs
of
making
Observations
from
it
.
Before
I
came
to
Tunbridge
,
I
proposed
to
my self
the
Satisfaction
of
Communicating
the
Pleasures
of
the
Place
to
you
:
But
if
I
keep
my
Resolution
,
I
must
transcribe
,
and
return
you
your
own
Letters
;
since
I
must
own
I
have
met
with
nothing
else
so
truly
Delightful
.
When
you
suppose
the
Country
agreeable
to
me
,
you
suppose
such
Reasons
why
it
should
be
so
,
that
while
I
read
your
Letter
,
I
am
of
your
Mind
;
but
when
I
look
off
,
I
find
I
am
only
charm'd
with
the
Landskip
which
you
have
drawn
.
So
that
if
I
would
see
a
fine
Prospect
of
the
Country
,
I
must
desire
you
to
send
it
me
from
the
Town
;
as
if
I
would
eat
good
Fruit
here
,
perhaps
the
best
way
were
,
to
beg
a
Basket
from
my
Friends
in
Covent-garden
.
After
all
this
,
I
must
tell
you
there
is
a
great
deal
of
Company
at
Tunbridge
;
and
some
very
agreeable
:
but
the
greater
part
,
is
of
that
sort
,
who
at
home
converse
only
with
their
own
Relations
;
and
consequently
when
they
come
abroad
,
have
few
Acquaintance
,
but
such
as
they
bring
with
them
.
But
were
the
Company
better
,
or
worse
,
I
would
have
you
expect
no
Characters
from
me
;
for
I
profess
my self
an
Enemy
to
Detraction
;
And
who
is
there
,
that
can
justly
merit
Commendation
?
I
have
a
mind
to
write
to
you
,
without
the
Pretence
of
any
manner
of
News
,
as
I
might
drink
to
you
without
naming
a
Health
;
for
I
intend
only
my
Service
to
you
.
I
wish
for
you
very
often
,
that
I
might
recommend
you
to
some
new
Acquaintance
that
I
have
made
here
,
and
think
very
well
worth
the
keeping
;
I
mean
Idleness
and
a
good
Stomach
.
You
would
not
think
how
People
eat
here
;
every
Body
has
the
Appetite
of
an
Oastrich
,
and
as
they
drink
Steel
in
the
Morning
,
so
I
believe
at
Noon
they
could
digest
Iron
.
But
sure
you
will
laugh
at
me
for
calling
Idleness
a
new
Acquaintance
;
when
,
to
your
Knowledge
,
the
greatest
part
of
my
Business
,
is
little
better
.
Ay
,
but
here
's
the
Comfort
of
the
Change
;
I
am
Idle
now
,
without
taking
Pains
to
be
so
,
or
to
make
other
People
so
;
for
Poetry
is
neither
in
my
Head
,
nor
in
my
Heart
.
I
know
not
whether
these
Waters
may
have
any
Communication
with
Lethe
,
but
sure
I
am
,
they
have
none
with
the
Streams
of
Helicon
.
I
have
often
wonder'd
how
those
wicked
Writers
of
Lampoons
,
could
crowd
together
such
quantities
of
execrable
Verses
,
tag'd
with
bad
Rhimes
,
as
I
have
formerly
seen
sent
from
this
place
.
But
I
am
half
of
Opinion
now
,
that
this
Well
is
an
Anti-Hypocrene
:
What
if
we
should
get
a
quantity
of
the
Water
privately
convey'd
into
the
Cistern
at
Will
's
Coffee-house
,
for
an
Experiment
?
But
I
am
extravagant
—
Tho'
I
remember
Ben.
Johnson
in
his
Comedy
of
Cynthia's
Revels
,
makes
a
Well
,
which
he
there
calls
the
Fountain
of
Self-love
,
to
be
the
Source
of
many
entertaining
and
ridiculous
Humours
.
I
am
of
Opinion
that
something
very
Comical
and
New
,
might
be
brought
upon
the
Stage
,
from
a
Fiction
of
the
like
Nature
.
But
now
I
talk
of
the
Stage
,
pray
if
any
thing
new
should
appear
there
,
let
me
have
an
Account
of
it
;
for
tho'
Plays
are
a
kind
of
Winter-fruit
,
yet
I
know
there
are
now
and
then
some
Wind-falls
at
this
time
of
Year
,
which
must
be
presently
served
up
,
lest
they
should
not
keep
till
the
proper
Season
of
Entertainment
.
'T
is
now
the
time
,
when
the
Sun
breeds
Insects
;
and
you
must
expect
to
have
the
Hum
and
Buz
about
your
Ears
,
of
Summer-flies
and
small
Poets
.
Cuckows
have
this
time
allow'd
'em
to
Sing
,
tho'
they
are
damn'd
to
Silence
all
the
rest
of
the
Year
.
Besides
,
the
approaching
Feast
of
St.
Bartholomew
both
creates
an
Expectation
and
bespeaks
an
Allowance
of
unnatural
Productions
and
monstrous
Births
:
Methinks
the
Days
of
Bartholomew-fair
are
like
so
many
Sabbaths
,
or
Days
of
Privilege
,
wherein
Criminals
and
Malefactors
in
Poetry
,
are
permitted
to
creep
abroad
.
They
put
me
in
mind
(
tho'
at
a
different
time
of
Year
)
of
the
Roman
Saturnalia
,
when
all
the
Scum
,
and
Rabble
,
and
Slaves
of
Rome
,
by
a
kind
of
Annual
and
limited
Manumission
,
were
suffer'd
to
make
abominable
Mirth
,
and
Profane
the
Days
of
Jubilee
,
with
vile
Buffoonry
,
by
Authority
.
But
I
forget
that
I
am
writing
a
Post-letter
,
and
run
into
length
like
a
Poet
in
a
Dedication
,
when
he
forgets
his
Patron
to
talk
of
himself
.
But
I
will
take
care
to
make
no
Apology
for
it
,
lest
my
Excuse
(
as
Excuses
generally
do
)
should
add
to
the
Fault
.
Besides
,
I
would
have
no
appearance
of
Formality
,
when
I
am
to
tell
you
,
that
I
am
,
your
real
Friend
,
and
Humble
Servant
,
W.
CONGREVE
.
Letters
of
LOVE
.
Written
by
—
Dear
Madam
,
NOT
believe
that
I
love
you
:
You
cannot
pretend
to
be
so
incredulous
.
If
you
do
not
believe
my
Tongue
,
consult
my
Eyes
,
consult
your
own
.
You
will
find
by
yours
,
that
they
have
Charms
;
by
mine
,
that
I
have
a
Heart
which
feels
them
.
Recal
to
mind
what
happen'd
last
Night
:
That
at
least
was
a
Lover's
Kiss
.
It
s
Eagerness
,
its
Fierceness
,
its
Warmth
,
express'd
the
God
its
Parent
.
But
oh
!
its
Sweetness
,
and
its
melting
Softness
express'd
him
more
.
With
Trembling
in
my
Limbs
,
and
Fevers
in
my
Soul
I
ravish'd
it
:
Convulsions
,
Pantings
,
Murmurings
shew'd
the
mighty
Disorder
within
me
:
The
mighty
Disorder
encreased
by
it
.
For
those
dear
Lips
shot
thro'
my
Heart
,
and
thro'
my
bleeding
Vitals
,
delicious
Poison
,
and
an
avoidless
,
but
yet
a
charming
Ruine
.
What
cannot
a
Day
produce
?
The
Night
before
,
I
thought
my self
a
Happy
Man
.
In
want
of
nothing
,
and
in
fairest
Expectation
of
Fortune
;
Approv'd
of
by
Men
of
Wit
,
and
applauded
by
others
;
Pleased
,
nay
charm'd
with
my
Friends
,
my
then
dearest
Friends
;
Sensible
of
ev'ry
delicate
Pleasure
,
and
in
their
turns
possessing
all
.
But
Love
,
Almighty
Love
!
seems
in
a
Moment
to
have
remov'd
me
to
a
prodigious
Distance
from
every
Object
but
you
alone
:
In
the
midst
of
Crowds
I
remain
in
Solitude
.
Nothing
but
you
can
lay
hold
of
my
Mind
,
and
that
can
lay
hold
of
nothing
but
you
.
I
appear
transported
to
some
Foreign
Desart
with
you
,
(
Oh
that
I
were
really
thus
transported
!
)
where
,
abundantly
supplied
with
ev'ry
thing
in
thee
,
I
might
live
out
an
Age
of
uninterrupted
Extacy
.
The
Scene
of
the
World
's
great
Stage
,
seems
suddenly
and
sadly
chang'd
.
Unlovely
Objects
are
all
around
me
,
excepting
thee
:
The
Charms
of
all
the
World
appear
to
be
translated
to
thee
.
Thus
in
this
sad
,
but
oh
,
too
pleasing
State
!
my
Soul
can
fix
upon
nothing
but
thee
:
Thee
it
Contemplates
,
Admires
,
Adores
,
nay
,
Depends
on
;
Trusts
in
you
alone
.
If
you
and
Hope
forsake
it
,
Despair
and
endless
Misery
attend
it
.
Dear
Madam
,
THis
I
send
by
the
Permission
of
a
severe
Father
,
I
will
not
say
a
cruel
one
,
since
he
is
yours
.
What
is
it
that
he
has
taken
so
mortally
ill
of
me
?
That
I
die
for
his
Daughter
is
my
only
Offence
.
And
yet
he
has
refused
to
let
me
take
ev'n
my
Farewel
of
you
.
Thrice
happy
be
the
Omen
!
May
I
never
take
my
Farewel
of
thee
,
till
my
Soul
takes
leave
of
my
Body
.
At
least
,
he
cannot
restrain
me
from
Loving
:
No
,
I
will
love
thee
in
spight
of
all
Opposition
.
Tho'
your
Friends
and
mine
prove
equally
averse
,
yet
I
will
love
thee
with
a
Constancy
that
shall
appear
to
all
the
World
,
to
have
something
so
noble
in
it
,
that
all
the
World
shall
confess
,
that
it
deserv'd
not
to
be
Unfortunate
.
I
will
for
sake
even
my
Friends
for
thee
:
My
honest
,
my
witty
,
my
brave
Friends
;
who
had
always
been
till
I
had
seen
thee
,
the
dearest
part
of
Mankind
to
me
.
Thou
shalt
supply
the
place
of
them
all
with
me
.
Thou
shalt
be
my
bosom
,
my
best-lov'd
Friend
;
and
at
the
same
time
,
my
only
Mistress
,
and
my
dearest
Wife
.
Have
the
Goodness
to
pardon
this
Familiarity
.
'T
is
the
tenderest
Leave
of
the
faithfulest
Lover
;
and
here
to
shew
an
Over-respectfulness
would
be
to
wrong
my
Passion
.
That
I
love
thee
more
than
Life
,
nay
,
even
than
Glory
,
which
I
courted
once
with
a
burning
Desire
,
bear
Witness
all
my
unquiet
Days
,
and
every
restless
Night
,
and
that
terrible
Agitation
of
Mind
and
Body
,
which
proceeded
from
my
fear
of
losing
thee
.
To
lose
thee
is
to
lose
all
Happiness
;
Tormenting
Reflection
to
a
sensible
Soul
!
How
often
has
my
Reason
been
going
upon
it
?
But
the
loss
of
Reason
would
be
but
too
happy
upon
the
loss
of
thee
:
Since
all
the
Advantage
that
I
could
draw
from
its
Presence
,
would
be
to
know
my self
Miserable
.
But
the
time
calls
upon
me
:
I
am
oblig'd
to
take
an
odious
Journey
,
and
leave
thee
behind
with
my
Enemies
.
But
thine
shall
never
do
thee
harm
with
me
.
Adieu
,
thou
dearest
,
thou
loveliest
of
Creatures
!
No
Change
of
Time
or
Place
,
or
the
Remonstrances
of
the
best
of
Friends
,
shall
ever
be
able
to
alter
my
Passion
for
thee
.
Be
but
one
quarter
so
kind
,
so
just
to
me
,
and
the
Sun
will
not
shine
on
a
happier
Man
than
my self
.
Dear
Madam
,
MAy
I
presume
to
beg
Pardon
for
the
Fault
I
committed
?
So
foolish
a
Fault
,
that
it
was
below
not
only
a
Man
of
Sence
,
but
a
Man
;
and
of
which
nothing
could
ever
have
made
me
Guilty
,
but
the
Fury
of
a
Passion
with
which
none
but
your
lovely
self
could
inspire
me
.
May
I
presume
to
beg
pardon
for
a
Fault
which
I
can
never
forgive
my self
?
To
purchase
that
Pardon
,
what
would
I
not
endure
?
You
shall
see
me
prostrate
before
you
,
and
use
me
like
a
Slave
,
while
I
kiss
the
dear
Feet
that
trample
upon
me
.
But
if
my
Crime
be
too
great
for
Forgiveness
,
as
indeed
it
is
very
great
,
deny
me
not
one
dear
parting
Look
;
Let
me
see
you
once
before
I
must
never
see
you
more
.
Christ
!
I
want
Patience
to
support
that
accursed
Thought
.
I
have
nothing
in
the
World
that
is
dear
to
me
,
but
you
.
You
have
made
every
thing
else
indifferent
:
And
can
I
resolve
never
to
see
you
more
?
In
spight
of
my self
I
must
always
see
you
.
Your
Form
is
fix'd
by
Fate
in
my
Mind
,
and
is
never
to
be
remov'd
.
I
see
those
lovely
piercing
Eyes
continually
,
I
see
each
Moment
those
ravishing
Lips
,
which
I
have
gaz'd
on
still
with
Desire
,
and
still
have
touch'd
with
Transport
;
and
at
which
I
have
so
often
flown
with
all
the
Fury
of
the
most
violent
Love
.
Jesus
!
From
whence
,
and
whither
am
I
fallen
?
From
the
Hopes
of
blissful
Extasies
to
black
Despair
!
From
the
Expectation
of
immortal
Transports
,
which
none
but
your
dear
Self
can
give
me
,
and
which
none
but
he
who
loves
like
me
,
could
ever
so
much
as
think
of
,
to
a
Complication
of
cruel
Passions
,
and
the
most
dreadful
Condition
of
Human
Life
.
My
Fault
,
indeed
,
has
been
very
great
,
and
cries
aloud
for
the
severest
Vengeance
.
See
it
inflicted
on
me
:
See
me
despair
and
die
for
that
Fault
.
But
let
me
not
die
Unpardon'd
,
Madam
;
I
die
for
you
,
but
die
in
the
most
cruel
and
dreadful
manner
.
The
Wretch
that
lies
broken
on
the
Wheel
alive
,
feels
not
a
quarter
of
what
I
endure
.
Yet
boundless
Love
has
been
all
my
Crime
;
unjust
,
ungrateful
,
barbarous
.
Return
of
it
!
Suffer
me
to
take
my
eternal
Leave
of
you
;
when
I
have
done
that
,
how
easie
will
it
be
to
bid
all
the
rest
of
the
World
Adieu
.
Dear
Madam
,
THIS
is
the
third
Letter
that
I
have
sent
you
since
I
came
hither
:
Those
which
went
before
it
were
all
the
Overflowings
of
a
Heart
more
full
of
Passion
than
ever
was
Man's
before
.
It
is
impossible
for
me
to
be
distant
from
you
,
but
I
must
send
to
you
by
every
occasion
.
And
yet
you
can
resolve
to
take
no
Notice
of
all
my
Tenderness
:
Yes
,
my
dearest
,
inhumane
Creature
,
you
can
.
You
have
been
sick
,
nay
dangerously
sick
,
and
have
never
sent
to
me
.
Have
I
left
all
the
World
for
you
,
and
could
you
resolve
to
leave
the
World
without
me
;
Nay
,
without
so
much
as
giving
me
the
least
Notice
of
it
?
Christ
!
Could
you
resolve
to
leave
me
to
Despair
and
to
endless
Misery
,
without
expressing
the
least
Concern
for
me
!
And
can
I
persist
in
loving
one
so
ingrateful
!
Is
there
such
another
ingrateful
Creature
alive
!
No
,
there
lives
not
so
ingrateful
a
Creature
,
but
there
lives
not
one
so
Charming
.
Dear
Madam
,
CAN
you
be
angry
still
with
your
poor
Penitent
?
You
cannot
have
the
ill
Nature
,
sure
?
Yes
,
but
you
can
,
you
say
since
he
could
have
the
Presumption
to
be
angry
with
you
.
But
,
my
Dearest
,
there
is
this
Difference
betwixt
your
Anger
and
mine
;
Mine
was
cau'd
by
the
Cruelty
of
your
suppos'd
Infidelity
;
and
yours
by
the
Kindness
of
your
Lover's
Resentment
:
for
if
I
had
not
been
fond
of
thee
to
the
last
degree
,
I
had
not
been
so
incens'd
against
you
.
Yet
even
when
I
was
most
so
,
I
could
sooner
have
pluck'd
out
an
Eye
,
than
have
resolved
to
have
parted
with
thee
:
Nay
,
I
could
sooner
have
torn
out
both
Eyes
,
if
the
loss
of
both
would
not
have
for
ever
depriv'd
me
of
the
dear
,
the
ravishing
sight
of
thee
.
But
if
you
still
think
that
my
Anger
had
Guilt
in
it
,
and
that
I
ought
to
suffer
for
it
,
the
means
to
punish
me
with
utmost
Severity
,
and
to
make
me
my
own
Tormenter
,
is
to
tell
me
,
you
love
me
:
Then
I
shall
curse
my self
and
my
Rage
,
and
feel
all
the
Plague
of
Remorse
for
having
offended
thee
:
I
shall
look
upon
my self
as
the
basest
,
the
most
ungrateful
of
Men
for
abusing
thy
Goodness
,
and
thy
charming
Tenderness
.
I
shall
believe
that
I
can
never
humble
my self
enough
,
and
never
suffer
enough
to
deserve
Forgiveness
.
Thus
,
Madam
,
you
have
your
Revenge
in
your
Power
.
It
is
a
false
Modesty
which
restrains
you
from
taking
it
:
In
order
to
it
,
you
have
nothing
to
do
,
but
to
prove
your self
tender
,
and
to
shew
your self
grateful
.
If
you
must
be
asham'd
,
blush
at
your
Cruelty
;
blush
at
your
Inhumanity
:
But
Gratitude
is
Reason
,
and
Love
is
Nature
;
never
be
asham'd
of
those
.
Do
but
consider
,
there
was
a
time
,
when
I
was
happy
in
your
Esteem
;
yes
,
there
has
been
a
time
,
in
which
I
was
thought
not
altogether
void
of
Reason
by
you
:
How
then
can
you
blush
at
the
owning
a
Passiion
,
which
you
command
with
an
absolute
Sway
,
at
the
very
time
that
it
Tyrannizes
over
me
?
Dear
Madam
,
MY
Friend's
Stratagem
gave
me
an
opportunity
of
seeing
you
,
by
finding
Fault
with
you
.
It
must
proceed
from
Design
or
Madness
if
I
find
fault
with
thee
:
Thy
lovely
Face
is
the
very
same
that
set
all
my
Blood
in
a
flame
;
and
I
am
sure
my
Heart
can
never
be
alter'd
.
How
it
trembled
in
my
Breast
when
I
saw
you
last
,
and
by
its
trouble
confess'd
its
Conqueror
!
How
it
has
burnt
ever
since
with
redoubled
Fury
!
When
I
shall
be
free
from
this
Flame
,
Heav'n
only
knows
,
for
the
Hour
of
my
Death
Heaven
only
knows
:
'T
is
a
Flame
that
has
incorporated
with
that
of
my
Life
,
and
both
will
go
out
together
.
In
vain
I
invoke
my
Reason
to
resist
my
Senses
:
My
Reason
finds
you
more
lovely
than
my
Eyes
did
before
;
shews
me
all
the
Graces
of
thy
beauteous
Mind
,
and
grows
pleas'd
and
prides
itself
in
its
own
Captivity
.
You
accuse
me
,
they
say
,
of
some
extraordinary
Crime
:
A
Crime
against
whom
?
Against
you
whom
I
love
!
Against
you
,
for
whom
I
could
die
!
Strange
Accusation
!
Yet
at
the
same
time
you
refuse
to
see
me
,
you
refuse
to
receive
my
Letters
:
And
must
I
be
condemn'd
Unheard
?
Robbers
are
allow'd
to
speak
before
they
are
sentenc'd
;
Murderers
have
the
Privilege
to
plead
for
their
Lives
:
And
shall
the
tenderest
Love
be
denied
the
Privilege
which
is
granted
to
the
blackest
Malice
?
I
have
been
guilty
of
nothing
but
too
much
Love
,
if
too
much
Love
be
a
Fault
.
Why
have
you
given
Credit
to
my
Enemies
,
before
you
have
heard
me
?
I
may
indeed
be
convinc'd
of
an
Error
,
but
I
can
never
be
convicted
of
a
Crime
against
you
.
The
Man
must
be
mad
,
nay
,
desperately
mad
,
who
can
design
to
injure
himself
;
and
thou
art
,
by
much
,
the
better
,
the
dearer
Part
of
me
.
Give
me
leave
to
see
you
once
more
before
I
depart
:
Let
me
see
once
more
that
Face
which
has
undone
me
,
yet
charms
me
even
in
Ruine
:
O
Face
industriously
contriv'd
by
Heaven
,
To
fix
my
Eyes
and
captivate
my
Soul
!
Nay
,
I
will
see
you
,
if
it
be
but
to
upbraid
you
with
your
barbarous
Wish
:
If
at
the
time
that
you
made
it
,
you
had
struck
a
Dagger
in
my
Heart
,
you
had
given
it
a
gentler
Wound
.
The
only
Wish
that
I
have
to
make
,
is
to
be
happy
in
thee
;
if
that
succeeds
not
,
I
have
another
,
and
that
is
,
to
lie
at
rest
in
my
Grave
.
The
End
of
the
Love-Letters
.
To
Walter
Moyle
,
Esq
at
Bake
,
in
Cornwall
.
Dear
Sir
,
YOUR
long
Silence
made
me
conjecture
,
that
you
are
so
intent
upon
being
Burgess
of
Bodmyn
,
that
you
had
forgot
the
Citizens
of
Covent-garden
:
At
last
I
received
an
agreeable
Letter
from
you
.
You
had
best
have
a
care
of
talking
in
Cornwal
,
at
the
rate
that
you
write
to
your
Friends
.
If
you
do
,
the
Cornish
Men
may
not
think
you
rightly
Qualified
to
Represent
them
.
When
you
left
the
Town
,
you
talk'd
of
a
Critical
Correspondence
between
us
:
But
Idleness
on
your
side
,
and
ill
Humour
on
mine
,
have
baulked
a
very
hopeful
Design
.
But
an
Accident
has
lately
happened
,
which
obliges
me
to
provoke
you
:
For
there
has
just
been
a
Play
acted
,
called
,
The
Mock-marriage
,
the
Author
of
which
,
whose
Name
I
have
forgot
,
asserts
,
dogmatically
,
in
his
Preface
,
That
he
who
writes
by
Rule
shall
only
have
his
Labour
for
his
Pains
.
I
know
not
what
this
Author
can
mean
by
this
:
For
,
whom
does
he
pretend
to
perswade
by
this
fine
Assertion
?
Not
Mr.
Moyle
,
and
me
at
least
.
We
know
indeed
very
well
,
that
a
Man
may
write
regularly
,
and
yet
fail
of
Pleasing
;
and
that
a
Poet
may
please
in
a
Play
that
is
not
regular
.
But
this
is
eternally
true
,
That
he
who
writes
regularly
ceteris
Paribus
,
must
always
please
more
,
than
he
who
transgresses
the
Rules
.
Nothing
can
please
in
a
Play
but
Nature
;
no
,
not
in
a
Play
which
is
written
against
the
Rules
:
and
the
more
there
is
of
Nature
in
any
Play
,
the
more
that
Play
must
Delight
.
Now
the
Rules
are
nothing
but
an
Observation
of
Nature
:
For
Nature
is
Rule
and
Order
itself
.
There
is
not
one
of
the
Rules
,
but
what
might
be
us'd
to
evince
this
.
But
I
shall
be
contented
with
shewing
some
Instances
of
it
,
even
in
the
Mechanical
Rules
of
the
Unities
:
And
first
for
that
of
place
;
It
is
certain
that
it
is
in
Nature
impossible
,
for
a
Man
who
is
in
the
Square
in
Covent-garden
,
to
see
the
things
,
that
at
the
same
time
,
are
transacted
at
Westminster
.
And
then
for
that
of
Time
,
a
reasonable
Man
may
delude
himself
so
far
,
as
to
fancy
that
he
sits
for
the
space
of
twelve
Hours
,
without
removing
,
eating
or
sleeping
;
but
he
must
be
a
Devil
that
can
fancy
he
does
it
for
a
Week
.
What
I
have
said
may
evince
a
Necessity
of
observing
the
Unities
of
Time
and
of
Place
,
if
a
Poet
would
throughly
write
up
to
Nature
.
And
then
the
Unity
of
Action
follows
on
course
:
For
,
that
two
Actions
that
are
entire
,
and
independent
,
should
happen
in
the
same
short
space
of
time
,
in
the
same
little
compass
of
place
,
begin
together
,
go
on
together
,
and
end
together
,
without
obstructing
or
confounding
one
another
;
this
indeed
may
be
done
upon
the
Stage
,
but
in
Nature
it
is
highly
improbable
.
Well
then
,
since
the
Rules
are
nothing
but
Nature
it self
,
and
nothing
but
Nature
can
please
,
and
since
the
more
that
any
Play
has
of
Nature
,
the
more
that
Play
must
Delight
,
it
follows
that
a
Play
which
is
regularly
written
,
ceteris
Paribus
,
must
please
more
than
a
Play
which
is
written
against
the
Rules
,
which
is
a
Demonstration
.
Rule
may
be
said
to
be
a
Play
;
what
Symmetry
of
Parts
is
known
to
be
to
a
Face
?
The
Features
may
be
regular
,
and
yet
a
great
or
a
delicate
Air
may
be
wanting
:
And
there
may
be
a
commanding
or
engaging
Air
,
in
a
Face
whose
Features
are
not
regular
.
But
this
all
the
World
must
allow
of
,
that
there
can
never
be
seen
any
Soveraign
Beauty
,
where
Air
and
Regularity
of
Features
are
not
united
.
Thus
is
Rea-son
against
this
Author
;
but
the
mischief
is
,
that
Experience
is
against
him
too
:
For
all
your
Dramatick
Poets
must
confess
,
that
the
Plays
which
they
have
writ
with
most
Regularity
,
have
been
they
which
have
pleased
most
.
I
must
trouble
you
with
another
Dramatical
Criticism
,
but
not
till
the
next
Opportunity
.
I
am
yours
,
&c.
Mr.
—
to
Mr.
Congreve
.
Dear
Sir
,
I
Came
home
from
the
Land's
End
Yesterday
,
where
I
found
three
Letters
from
Mr.
Dennis
,
and
one
from
you
,
with
a
humerous
Description
of
John
Abassus
,
Don
Quixote
,
and
the
Coronation
of
Petrarch
in
the
Capitol
,
there
has
not
been
so
great
a
Solemnity
as
the
Consecration
of
John
Abassus
.
In
all
the
Pagan
Ritual
,
I
never
met
with
the
Form
of
Poetical
Orders
;
but
I
believe
the
Ceremony
of
Consecrating
a
Man
to
Apollo
,
is
the
same
with
Devoting
a
Man
to
the
Dii
Manes
,
for
both
are
Martyrs
to
Fame
.
I
believe
not
a
Man
of
the
Grave
Club
durst
assist
at
this
ridiculous
Scene
,
for
fear
of
laughing
out-right
.
W.
was
in
his
Kingdom
,
and
for
my
part
I
would
have
rather
sat
there
than
in
the
House
of
Commons
.
Would
to
God
I
could
laugh
with
you
for
one
Hour
or
two
at
all
the
ridiculous
things
that
have
happen'd
at
Will
's
Coffee-house
since
I
left
it
,
't
is
the
merriest
Place
in
the
World
:
Like
Africa
,
every
Day
it
produces
a
Monster
;
and
they
are
got
there
just
as
Pliny
says
they
are
in
Africa
,
Beasts
of
different
kinds
come
to
drink
,
mingle
with
one
another
and
beget
Monsters
.
Present
my
humble
Duty
to
my
new
Lord
,
and
tell
him
,
that
I
am
preparing
an
Address
to
Congratulate
his
Accession
to
the
Throne
of
the
Rabble
.
Tell
the
Lady
,
who
was
the
Author
of
the
Hue
and
Cry
after
me
,
she
might
have
sent
out
a
hundred
Hues
and
Cries
before
she
would
have
found
a
Poet.
I
took
an
effectual
Course
not
to
be
apprehended
for
a
Poet
,
for
I
went
down
clad
like
a
Soldier
,
with
a
new
Suit
of
Cloaths
on
,
and
,
I
think
there
could
not
have
been
a
better
Disguise
for
a
Poet
,
unless
I
had
stol'n
Dr.
B—'s
Coat
.
Mr.
Dennis
sent
me
down
P
—
M
—
's
Parodie
.
I
can
say
very
little
of
the
Poem
;
but
as
for
the
Dialogue
,
I
think
't
was
the
first
time
that
M
—
suffered
any
body
to
talk
with
him
,
though
indeed
here
he
interrupts
Mr.
Boileau
in
the
midst
of
the
first
word
.
My
humble
Service
to
Mr.
Wycherley
.
I
desire
you
would
write
me
some
News
of
the
Stage
,
and
what
Progress
you
have
made
in
your
Tragedy
.
I
am
your
affectionate
Friend
and
Servant
.
Mr.
Congreve
to
Mr.
—
Dear
Sir
,
I
Can't
but
think
that
a
Letter
from
me
in
London
,
to
you
in
C—
,
is
like
some
ancient
Correspondence
between
an
Inhabitant
of
Rome
and
a
Cimmerian
:
May
be
my
way
of
Writing
may
not
be
so
modestly
compared
with
Roman
Epistles
;
but
the
Resemblance
of
the
Place
will
justifie
the
other
part
of
the
Parallel
:
The
subterraneous
Habitations
of
the
Miners
,
and
the
Proximity
of
the
Bajae
help
a
little
;
and
while
you
are
at
B
—
let
B
—
be
Cumae
,
and
do
you
supply
the
Place
of
Sybilla
.
You
may
look
on
this
as
Railery
,
but
I
can
assure
you
,
nothing
less
than
Oracles
are
expected
from
you
,
in
the
next
Parliament
,
if
you
succeed
in
your
Election
,
as
we
are
pretty
well
assured
you
will
.
You
wish
your self
with
us
at
Will
's
Coffee-house
;
all
here
wish
for
you
,
from
the
President
of
the
Grave
Club
,
to
the
most
puny
Member
of
the
Rabble
;
they
who
can
think
,
think
of
you
,
and
the
rest
talk
of
you
.
There
is
no
such
Monster
in
this
Africa
,
that
is
not
sensible
of
your
Absence
;
even
the
worst
natured
People
,
and
those
of
least
Wit
lament
it
;
I
mean
,
half
Criticks
and
Quiblers
.
To
tell
you
all
that
want
you
,
I
should
name
all
the
Creatures
of
Covent-garden
,
which
like
those
of
Eden-garden
would
want
some
Adam
to
be
a
Godfather
and
give
them
Names
.
I
can't
tell
whether
I
may
justly
compare
our
Covent-garden
,
to
that
of
Eden
,
or
no
;
for
tho'
I
believe
we
may
have
Variety
of
strange
Animals
equal
to
Paradise
,
yet
I
fear
we
have
not
amongst
us
the
Tree
of
Knowledge
.
It
had
been
much
to
the
Disadvantage
of
Pliny
,
had
the
Coffee-house
been
in
his
Days
;
for
sure
he
would
have
described
some
who
frequent
it
;
which
would
have
given
him
the
Reputation
of
a
more
fabulous
Writer
then
he
has
now
.
But
being
in
our
Age
it
does
him
a
Service
,
for
we
who
know
it
,
can
give
Faith
to
all
his
Monsters
.
You
who
took
care
to
go
down
into
the
Country
unlike
a
Poet
,
I
hope
will
take
care
not
to
come
up
again
like
a
Politician
;
for
then
,
you
will
add
a
new
Monster
to
the
Coffee-house
,
that
was
never
seen
there
before
.
So
you
may
come
back
again
,
in
your
Soldier
's
Coat
,
for
in
that
you
will
no
more
be
suspected
for
a
Politician
,
than
a
Poet.
Pray
come
upon
any
Terms
,
for
you
are
wished
for
by
every
body
,
but
most
wanted
by
your
Affectionate
Friend
and
Servant
,
W.
CONGREVE
.
To
Mr.
Congreve
,
at
Tunbridge
.
Dear
Sir
,
MY
Business
and
my
Thanks
for
your
Kindness
,
you
will
find
in
the
Inclos'd
,
which
I
had
sent
by
the
last
Post
,
had
not
an
accident
hinder'd
it
.
All
the
Return
that
I
can
make
you
at
present
is
,
to
acquaint
you
with
such
News
as
we
have
.
Our
Friend
Mr.
—
went
last
Friday
to
the
Bath
:
He
promis'd
to
write
to
me
from
that
place
,
but
it
would
be
unreasonable
indeed
to
expect
it
.
For
W
—
takes
up
his
Afternoons
,
and
his
Mornings
I
suppose
,
are
spent
in
Contemplation
at
the
Cross
Bath
.
Most
of
your
Friends
of
the
Coffee-house
are
disper'd
:
Some
are
retreated
into
the
Country
in
hopes
of
some
Favours
,
which
they
expect
from
the
Muses
;
two
or
three
of
them
are
retir'd
in
Town
to
ruminate
on
some
Favours
,
which
they
have
receiv'd
from
their
Mistresses
.
So
that
the
Coffee-house
is
like
to
grow
into
Reputation
again
.
For
if
any
one
gives
it
the
scandalous
Denomination
of
the
Wits
Coffee-house
,
he
must
call
it
so
by
Antiphrasis
,
because
there
comes
no
Wit
there
.
Here
are
two
or
three
indeed
,
who
set
up
for
Wits
at
home
,
and
endeavour
to
pass
for
Wise
at
the
Coffee-house
:
for
they
hold
their
Tongues
there
.
Indeed
the
Coffee-house
is
generally
the
Exchange
for
Wit
,
where
the
Merchants
meet
without
bringing
the
Commodity
with
them
,
which
they
leave
at
home
in
their
Ware-houses
,
alias
,
their
Closets
,
while
they
go
abroad
to
take
a
prudent
care
for
the
vending
it
.
But
you
are
of
the
Number
of
those
happy
Few
,
who
so
abound
in
Heriditary
Possessions
,
and
in
rich
Returns
from
Greece
and
from
Italy
,
that
you
always
carry
some
of
it
about
you
to
be
liberal
to
your
Friends
of
that
which
you
sell
to
Strangers
.
Mr.
—
bables
eternally
according
to
his
old
rate
,
and
as
extravagantly
as
if
he
talk'd
to
himself
;
which
he
certainly
does
,
if
no
body
minds
him
any
more
than
I
do
:
He
has
been
just
now
enquiring
,
what
sort
of
Distemper
the
Spleen
is
;
an
infallible
sign
that
he
is
the
only
Man
in
Covent-garden
,
who
does
not
know
he
is
an
Ass.
To
make
him
sensible
what
the
Spleen
is
,
I
could
find
in
my
Heart
to
shew
him
himself
,
and
give
it
him
.
If
any
thing
restrains
me
from
being
reveng'd
of
his
Impertinence
this
way
,
't
is
the
Consideration
that
it
will
make
him
wiser
:
This
Coxcomb
naturally
puts
me
in
mind
of
the
Stage
,
where
they
have
lately
acted
some
new
Plays
;
but
had
there
been
more
of
them
,
I
would
not
scruple
to
affirm
,
that
the
Stage
is
at
present
a
Desart
and
a
barren
Place
,
as
some
part
of
Africa
is
said
to
be
,
though
it
abounds
in
Monsters
.
And
yet
those
prodigious
Things
have
met
with
Success
:
for
a
Fool
is
naturally
fond
of
a
Monster
,
because
he
is
incapable
of
knowing
a
Man
.
While
you
drink
Steel
for
your
Spleen
at
Tunbridge
,
I
partake
of
the
Benefit
of
the
Course
;
for
the
Gayety
of
your
Letters
relieves
me
considerably
:
Then
what
must
your
Conversation
do
?
Come
up
and
make
the
Experiment
;
and
impart
that
Vigour
to
me
which
Tunbridge
has
restor'd
to
you
.
I
am
your
most
humble
Servant
,
JOHN
DENNIS
.
Mr.
—
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
NAmur
taken
,
and
a
Letter
from
Mr.
Dennis
,
were
two
of
the
most
agreeable
Surprizes
I
ever
met
with
.
And
nothing
but
the
Reflection
,
how
dear
the
Conquest
will
cost
us
,
I
mean
,
the
innumerable
ill
Poems
it
will
produce
,
could
allay
the
Pleasure
.
A
—
has
watch'd
for
a
Victory
a
long
time
,
and
will
not
miss
this
Opportunity
to
mortifie
the
Day
of
Thanksgiving
,
and
scribble
away
the
Publick
Joy
.
The
Devil
take
Will
's
Coffee-house
:
I
could
be
the
easiest
Man
in
the
World
under
my
Calamity
,
if
it
were
not
for
some
of
the
Company
there
;
who
are
now
the
greatest
Enemies
I
have
in
the
World
,
worse
than
the
Company
from
which
I
am
just
now
stol'n
to
write
this
Letter
.
Among
the
rest
is
a
Country
Gentleman
who
dictates
Politicks
abundantly
,
for
with
us
,
as
well
as
at
old
Rome
,
we
take
Dictators
from
the
Plow
,
but
ours
are
such
as
ought
never
to
remove
their
Hands
from
it
.
I
am
yours
,
&c.
Mr.
—
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
WHile
you
are
happy
in
the
Politicks
of
the
Grave
Club
,
and
the
I
am
yours
,
&c.
Mr.
—
to
Mr.
Dennis
.
TO
your
Business
hereafter
,
but
first
,
le
ts
have
a
Dance
,
as
Mr.
Bays
says
.
When
I
came
home
from
the
West
,
where
I
had
passed
a
Fortnight
,
I
found
your
three
Letters
full
of
Wit
and
Humour
.
I
was
charm'd
with
the
Scandal
you
writ
in
the
first
,
and
enclosed
in
the
last
,
viz.
A.'s
Poem
.
I
found
the
Preamble
before
the
Poem
to
be
like
a
Suterkin
before
a
Dutch
Child
.
I
read
it
over
in
great
haste
,
in
hopes
to
be
pleased
at
last
with
the
End
of
it
,
but
this
is
the
first
time
I
ever
dislik'd
his
Conclusion
.
For
he
threatens
strange
things
.
I
hope
,
't
is
only
in
terrorem
,
if
not
,
I
hope
God
in
his
Goodness
will
send
us
a
Peace
,
and
prevent
his
Songs
of
Triumph
.
Certainly
,
since
the
Devil
was
Dumb
there
never
was
such
a
Poet.
FINIS
.