till this business is off my hands, which must be in six, I think, at farthest. O! Ppt, I remember your reprimanding me for meddling in other people's affairs: I have enough of it now, with a vengeance. Two women have been here six times a-piece; I never saw them yet. The first I have dispatched with a letter; the other I must see, and tell her I can do nothing for her: she is wife of one Mr Connor, an old college acquaintance, and comes on a foolish errand, for some old pretensions, that will succeed when I am lord treasurer. I am got up two pair of stairs, in a private lodging, and have ordered all my friends not to discover where I am; yet every morning two or three sets are plaguing me, and my present servant has not yet his lesson perfect of denying me. I have written a hundred and thirty pages in folio, to be printed, and must write thirty more, which will make a large book of four shillings. * I wish I knew an opportunity of sending you some snuff. I will watch who goes to Ireland, and do it if possible. I had a letter from Parvisol, and find he has set my livings very low. Colonel Hamilton, who was second to Duke Hamilton, is tried to-day. I suppose he is come off, but have not heard. I dined with lord-treasurer, but left him by nine, and visited some people. Lady Betty, his daughter, will be married on Monday next (as I suppose) to the Marquis of Caermarthen. I did not know your country place had been Portraine, † till you told me so in your last. Has Swanton taken it of Wallis? That Wallis was a grave, wise coxcomb. God be thanked that Ppt is better of her disorders. God keep her so. The

* History of the Peace of Utrecht.

+ Or Portrain, about seven miles from Dublin.

pamphlet of Political Lying is written by Dr Arbuthnot, the author of John Bull; 'tis very pretty, but not so obvious to be understood. Higgins, first chaplain to Duke Hamilton? Why, Duke Hamilton never dreamt of a chaplain, nor I believe ever heard of Higgins. You are glorious newsmongers in Ireland-Dean Francis, Sir Richard Levinge, stuff: and Pratt, more stuff. We have lost our fine frost here; and Abel Roper tells me you have had floods in Dublin; ho, have you? Oh ho! Swanton seized Portraine, now I understand you. Ay, ay, now I see Portraine at the top of your letter. I never minded it before. Now to your second, N. 36. So, you read one of the Grub-streets about the band-box. The Whig papers have abused me about the band-box. God help me, what could I do? I fairly ventured my life. There is a particular account of it in the Post-Boy, and Evening Post of that day. Lord-treasurer has had the seal sent him that sealed the box, and directions where to find the other pistol in a tree in St James's Park, which Lord Bolingbroke's messenger found accordingly; but who sent the present is not yet known. *

The following ballad, which enumerates all the various charges of plots against the ministry, seems worthy of preservation. It enumerates first what was called the Screw-plot, being the withdrawing of certain screw-bolts from the timbers of St Paul's, from which was inferred an intention of destroying the queen and ministry, who were to attend service there on the thanksgiving-day. This proved to have arisen from the neglect of some of the workpeople. The third stanza refers to the intended Pope-burning on Queen Elizabeth's night; and the fourth to the ravages of Mohocks, which the Tories, we have seen, interpreted as a thing devised by the enemy. Lastly, there was the Band-box plot, which, after all, seems either to have been the work of a madman, or designed for a jest. From considering these various alarms, the reader will probably be satisfied, that the era of sham-plots did not con

Duke Hamilton avoided the quarrel as much as possible, according to the foppish rules of honour in practice. What signified your writing angry to

clude with the reign of Charles II., although in that of Queen Anne they were not driven to the same sanguinary conclusions.

Plot upon Plot,

To the Tune of" Hey Boys! Up go we."

O wicked Whigs! what can you mean?
When will your plotting cease
Against our most renowned queen,
Her ministry, and peace?

Your Protestant succession's safe,
As our great men agree;
Bourbon has Spain, the Tories laugh:
Then hey boys! Up go ye.

Some of your Matchi'villian crew
From heavy roof of Paul,
Most trait'rously stole ev'ry screw,
To make that fabric fall:

And so to catch her majesty,
And all her friends beguile;

As birds are trapt by boys most sly,
In pit-fall with a tile.

You for your bonfires mawkins dress'd
On good queen Bess's day,

Whereby much treason was express'd,
As all true churchmen say,
Against the Devil and the Pope,
The French, our new ally,

And Perkin too, that youth of hope,
In whom we all rely.

You sent your Mohocks next abroad,
With razors arm'd, and knives;

Who on night-walkers made inroad,

And scared our maids and wives:

They scour'd the watch, and windows broke,

But 'twas their true intent,

(As our wise ministry did smoke)
T'o'erturn the government.

But now your last and blackest deed,
What mortal can rehearse ?

The thought of't makes my heart to bleed;

O muse, assist my verse!

A plot it was so deeply laid,

So diabolical,

Had not the secret been betray'd,

In one 't had slain us all.

Filby I hope you said nothing of hearing any thing from me. Heigh! do you write by candlelight! naughty, naughty, naughty, dallah, a hundred times, for doing so. O, faith, DD, I'll take care of myself! The queen is in town, and Lady Masham's month of lying-in is within two days of being out. I was at the christening on Monday. I could not get the child named Robin, after lord-treasurer; it is Samuel, after the father. My brother Ormond sent me some chocolate to-day. I wish you had share of it: they say it is good for me, and I design to drink some in the morning. Our society meets next Thursday, now the queen is in town; and

Two inkhorn tops your Whigs did fill
With gunpowder and lead;

Which, with two serpents made of quill,
You in a band-box laid:

A tinder-box there was beside,

Which had a trigger to't,

To which the very string was ty'd,
That was design'd to do't.

As traitors spare not care nor cost,
These crackers dire were sent,
To th' treasurer, per penny-post,
And safely so they went:

And if my lord had pull'd the thread,

Then up had blown the train,

And th' inkhorns must have shot him dead,
Or else have burst in twain.

But fortune spared that precious life,
And so saved church and queen:

Good Swift was by, and had a knife

For corn or pen made keen;

Stand off, my lord! cry'd he, this thread
To cut I will not doubt.

He cut, then ope'd the bandbox lid,

And so the plot came out.

Now God preserve our gracious queen;

And for this glorious deed,

May she the doctor make a dean,

With all convenient speed:

What though the Tub hath hinder'd him,

As common story tells,

Yet surely now the band-box whim

Will help him down to Wells.

lord-treasurer assures me, that the society for reforming the language shall soon be established. I have given away ten shillings to-day to servants. What a stir is here about your company and visits! Charming company, no doubt; now I keep no company, nor have I any desire to keep any. I never go to a coffee-house nor a tavern, nor have touched a card since I left Windsor. I make few visits, nor go to levees; my only debauch is sitting late where I dine, if I like the company. I have almost dropped the Duchesses of Shrewsbury and Hamilton, and several others. Lord-treasurer, the Duke of Ormond, and Lady Orkney, are all that I see very often. O yes, and Lady Masham and Lord Bolingbroke, and one or two private friends. I make no figure but at court, where I affect to turn from a lord to the meanest of my acquaintance, and I love to go there on Sundays to see the world. But, to say the truth, I am growing weary of it. I dislike a million of things in the course of public affairs; and if I were to stay here much longer, I am sure I should ruin myself with endeavouring to mend them. I am every day invited into schemes of doing this, but I cannot find any that will probably succeed. It is impossible to save people against their own will; and I have been too much engaged in patch-work already. Do you understand all this stuff? * No. Well then, you are now returned to ombre and the dean, and Christmas; I wish you a very merry one; and pray don't lose your money, nor play upon Watt Welch's game. Night, sirrahs, it is late, I'll go to sleep; I don't

* The reader, however, may easily understand it, by recollecting how anxiously Swift laboured to solder breaches between Bolingbroke and Oxford.