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Contemplation of those Satisfactions which probably we may hereafter tafte in the Company of feparate Spirits, when we fhall range the Walks above, and perhaps gaze on this World at as vaft a Distance ás we now do on thofe Worlds. The Pleasures we are to enjoy in that Conversation muft undoubtedly be of a nobler Kind, and (not unlikely) may proceed from the Discoveries-each fhall communicate to another, of God and Nature; for the Happiness of Minds can furely be nothing but Knowledge.

The highest Gratification we receive here from Company is Mirth, which at the best is but a fluttering unquiet Motion, that beats about the Breaft for a few Moments, and after leaves it void and empty. Keeping good Company, even the beft, is but a fhameless Art of lofing Time. What we here call Science and Study, are little better: The greater Number of Arts to which we apply ourselves are meer groping in the Dark; and even the Search of our most important Concerns in a future Being, is but a needlefs, anxious, and uncertain Hafte to be knowing, fooner than we can, what without all this Sollicitude we fhall know a little later. We are but curious Impertinents in the Cafe of Futurity. 'Tis not our Business to be gueffing what the State of Souls fhall be, but to be doing what may make our own State happy; we cannot be knowing, but we can be virtuous.

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As this is my Notion of a great Part of that high Science, Divinity, I lay no mighty Strefs upon reft. Even of my darling Poetry I really make no other Ufe, than Horfes of the Bells that gingle about their Ears (tho' now and then they tofs their Heads as if they were proud of them) only to jogg on, a little more merrily,

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I remark, that the Variety of Opinions in Politicks or Religion is often rather á Gratification, than an Objection, to People who have Sense enough to confider the beautiful Order of Nature in her Variations. I think it a generous Thought, that it is not improbable but God may be delighted with the various Methods of worshipping him, which divide the whole World. I am pretty fure I should make no good Inquifitor to the modern Tyrants in Faith: I as little fear God will damn a Man that has Charity, as I hope that any Priest can save him without it, &c.

In the latter Part of Mr. Pope's Time, he pafs'd it much in this Manner, for Reading and Writing, for which he had still the greatest Relifh, grew painful to him, his Eyes became weak and dim, with so great Application to Study, and Sorrow for his Mother, which, when in her laft Illness, was without Intermiffion: In this Circumftance, to a Friend he fays thus: I am unfeignedly tired of the World, and receive nothing to be called Pleasure in it, equivalent to countervail either the Death of one I have long liv'd with, or of one I have fo long liv'd for: I have nothing left but to turn my Thoughts to one Comfort, the last we ufually think of, tho' the only one in Wisdom we should depend upon, in fuch a disappointing Place as this: I fit in her Room, and he is always prefent before me, but when I fleep. I wonder I am so well; I have shed many Tears, but now weep at nothing.

One capable of defcribing the Paffions as he was able to do, muft certainly feel them himself very Atrongly, more especially one, which he had been feeding all his Life-time, no other Tie of Friendship or Affection but what immediately fubmitted to this filial Love. How ftrange would it have feem'd to that Mother to hear, that there were in the World Women, who without any Offence, but fome trifling

Variety of Difpofition, could withdraw all maternal Regard from their Children, and how shocking, if any Thing like Cruelty or Hate appeared in a Breast made to nourish and sustain.

What must Mr. Pope fecl at the Examples of Difobedience and Want of due Regard in Children, certainly more Horror and Dislike than ever he express'd, or perhaps more than can be exprefs'd; as to the First, the unnatural Mother, this Age afforded a new Inftance of Cruelty to a Son, and in Mr. Pope, Kindness to one us'd with the utmost Barbarity, and deliver'd to Shame, and the Storms of the World, and Abuses arising from bad Examples: For Anne, Countess of Macclesfiecd, when great with Child, openly declared herself an Adulterefs. and that the Child was begotten by the Earl Rivers, fo that the Earl of Macclesfield applied to the Parliament, and obtained an Act by which his Marriage was diffolv'd, totally made void and null, and the Children of his Wife made illegitimate; on their Separation her Fortune, which was very large, was repaid, and in a fhort Time the married Colonel Bret.

In the Time that the Earl of Macclesfield was profecuting this Affair, his Lady was delivered of a Son, and the Earl Rivers confidering him as his own, juftified the Sincerity of the Declaration of the Countefs, by giving him his Name, and caufing it by his own Direction to be inferted in the Regifter of St. Andrew Holbourn.

This Mr. Richard Savage became (why, is impoffible to guefs), the Hatred of his Mother, who was now only Mrs. Brett: She committed him to the Hands of a poor Woman, with Orders that the fhould educate him as if he was her own, and never inform him who his true Parents were.

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By the Lady Mafon's Care, he was directed to be placed at a small Grammar-fchool near St. Alban's, where he was called by his Nurfe's Name, without the leaft Intimation that he had a Claim to any other. While he was at School the Earl Rivers was taken ill, and having often enquired after this Son, had been amus'd with evafive and fallacious Answers, but now being on his Death-bed, and intending to provide for him, he demanded an Account of him in a Manner not to be diverted or denied, whereon this cruel Lady told the Earl that he was dead, and he bestowed fix thousand Pounds on another Perfon, wbich he had in his Will bequeath'd to Mr. Savage, who, after a vain Attempt to be fent fecretly to the American Plantations, was put out Apprentice to a Shoemaker, where the Death of his fuppofed Mother discovered the Truth to him, and having Knowledge of his Mother, could not obtain Permiffion fo much as to fee her, but was ordered to be excluded from her House by whomfoever he might be introduced, or what Reason foever he might give for entering it: So that he was left to great Want, and began to think of writing for the Stage, having something of a poetical Genius, but being of a loofe Difpofition, by reason of keeping profligate Company, if he received a little Money, he would immediately fquander it away; nevertheless, Sir Richard Steele having efpous'd his Caufe, he made a Shift to live, being every Night at the Play, by the Intereft of Sir Richard, who never deserted him till he understood that Mr. Savage had ridiculed him behind his Back, which was a Fault Mr. Savage was too guilty of, where he was moft obliged: It is faid Mr. Wilks once got him fifty Pounds from his barbarous Mother, and Mrs. Oldfield was fo touch'd with his Misfortunes, that during her Life, the allowed him fifty Pounds a Year, which

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which was very regularly paid. Mr. Wilks too fometimes help'd him with a Benefit, but it fignified nothing, the Extravagance of his Temper and Badness of his Morals, always kept him a Beggar; when he wanted Money he continued to write, and Mr. Aaron Hill, who was a great Friend to him, help'd to usher his Pieces and Poems into the World, and forwarded his Subfcription, which tho' large, did him no Good, because he spent the Subscription as fast as it came to Hand, were it little or much.

But now Mr. Savage entered into an Affair that had like to have pleas'd his Mother well, who always perfecuted and pursued him: He, with two others drunk, rudely rufh'd into Robinfon's Coffee-House near Charing-Crofs, where other Company was, thrusting themselves between the Company and the Fire, and kicking down the Table, a Quarrel begun, and Mr. Savage drew his Sword and killed a young Gentleman, one Mr. James Sinclair, and wounded a Maid that would have held him; he was. taken making his Escape, and he and his Companions were tried at the Old-Bailey and condemned; Mr. Savage and Mr. Gregory, who had Swords, guilty of Murder, and Mr. Merchant, who had no Sword, guilty only of Manslaughter; but Intereft being made, they were with great Difficulty pardon'd, for it had been infinuated to the Queen, by the Adultress his Mother (tho' wickedly and falfely) that he once rush'd into her House with an Attempt to murder her.

He was once again at Liberty, but in no way to live, and having tried all Ways with his Mother on the tender Side, he now began to threaten to harrafs her with Lampoons, and publish a Narrative of her

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