A LETTER to the Reverend Mr. Dean Swift, occafioned by a SATYRE faid to be written by him,

ENTITLED,

A Dedication to a Great Man, concerning Dedications. Difcovering, among other wonderful Secrets, what will be the prefent Pofture of Affairs a Thoufand Years bence.

By a Sparkish Pamphleteer of BUTTON'S Coffee-Houfe.

A Letter to the Reverend Mr. Dean Swift, &c.

I

Dear Doctor,

Thank you, in the Name of the Publick, for your continuing to be useful, notwithstanding you are a dignify'd Churchman. The celebrated Lord Falkland, talking of the Clergy in the House of Commons, faid, That as their Preaching was the Caufe of their Preferment, fo they made their Preferment the Caufe of their not Preaching; and, when I knew you were made a Dean, I grew mortal Fear that you would live like your Brethren, and be good for nothing. I confefs a Deanary is a very

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a very good Reafon for being idle; and we infer that you are of the fame Mind, from your not having once fet the three Kingdoms a-laughing in five Years together; whereas you used formerly, when you had Wit in Pocket-fulls, and no Money, to be tickling the Sides of Mankind once a Week, at leaft: What a Misfortune is it, that the rich Man fhould always thus fpoil the merry Fel

low?

I myself find it by Experience, that Plenty is a damn'd Baulk to Mirth; for I am always dull in Proportion to my Cafh, and witty in Proportion to the Feebleness of my Purfe: When I am Mafter of a few Half Crowns, you would fwear, by my Looks and Heavinefs, I were an elder Brother, or an Alderman, fuch a magifterial Stupidity do I carry about me: However, for my Comfort, I am seldom attack'd by this Fit of Lethargy above once a Year.

On the other Hand, when there is a Famine in my Fob, my Head is in the best Plight in the World, and I can write a Pamphlet in half an Hour. Nec Onus, Nec Franum; a Colt, or a Girl, or a young Cat, has not more Tricks and Livelinefs.

One Day, (I fhall never forget it!) as I was raifing a Ghoft, or defcribing a Monster, or committing a horrid and bloody Murder, Faith, I can't tell which, but one of them it was, and the Prefs and the Hawkers both ftood ftill for it; I fay, upon that felf-fame Day, when I began, with my ufual Elegance, to flourish and form my Periods, I felt an unusual Slowness in my Invention; and my Fancy, though I pump'd it again and again, and drew it by all its Teats, would not yield one Drop of Milk, and I could not, for the Heart of me, make my Readers wonder.

In this deplorable and never-enough to be lamented Dulnefs, what does me do, but fearch firft in my Noddle, and then in my Breeches, for the Strange Ground of my present Woe and Unfruitfulness; and, to my great Aftonishment, in a private Corner of my Pocket lurk'd a crooked Sixpence, unfelt 'till then by human Finger. The Reafon of its long Imprifonment was, that in many Months I had never fent my Hand on any Meffage into my Pocket, as well knowing it had no Bufinefs there.

As foon as I had laid my Hands on this fingle In habitant, I refolv'd to make an Example of him, and drown him immediately, without Mercy, in half a Pint of Sherry. I then went readily and chearfully to work, and having now neither Lett nor Moleftation, finifh'd my Ghoft with good Reputation to myfelf; for it was reckon'd the very best and most terrible Apparition that haunted GrubStreet that Evening.

I have not met with fuch another Obstacle in all the numerous Pamphlets which I have fince produc'd. While I have any Cafh, I neither think, nor fpeak, nor write, but ramble, and drink, and pay; and when I can pull out no more Money, I pull out my Inkhorn, and grow witty again. N. B. For three Weeks paft, I have been a Wit without Interruption.

I appeal to you, dear Doctor, whether the Cafe, which I have been here defcribing, was not once yours, while your Circumstances were yet but lean, and your Purfe Grey-Hound-gutted.

I was therefore not a little furprised to find you writing, in Spight of your Gold and your Deanery. I at first imagined there might be a general Famine in Ireland, and that you were reduced to dine upon your Wit again; but the Mirth and

Festivity of your Book relieved me inftantly from all Apprehenfion of this Kind, and I have fince confidered you as only venting your Spleen against a Piece of fulfome Roguery, which continues ftill to go on in fhameless Luxuriancy.

Generally speaking, you can as easily grope out Colour and Complexion with your Fingers, and pore into the Nature of Harmony with your Eyes, as difcover the Characters of great Perfons in the Descriptions which are made of them in Dedications.

Your Efay upon that Subject was certainly very useful and feasonable; and I think you are owned to have executed it with just Wit and Severity.

Will the Quality never fee, that in these Panegyricks which Authors fell them, they are first bely'd and then cheated? The Language, in moft of those Cafes, is in Truth no other than this

My Lord give me twenty Guineas and I will deceive you. Every Man who is deck'd in a Character which does not become him, is fo far drefs'd in a Fool's Coat and Cap, and expos'd to the Grin and Contempt of all that can fee it, that is, every Body but himself.

Fame is a fleeting tender Thing, and even where it is due, it is loft or corrupted when beftow'd by improper or mercenary Hands.

I knew a pretty young Girl in a Country Village, who, over-fond of her own Praife, became a Property to a poor Rogue in the Parish, who was ignorant of all Things but Fawning. This Fellow us'd to wait on Mrs. Betty every Morning, and fhe being a Shop-keeper, his ufual Salutation was, Lord love your Heart, Mrs. Betty, you be main bandfome, will you give me a Pipe of Tobacco? Am I, Ifaac? (anfwers Mrs. Betty) let me fee your Box 3

and

anden fhe fills it. Thus Ifaac extolls her out of a Quartern of Cut and Dry every Day the lives; and tho' the young Woman is really handfome, fhe and her Beauty are become a By-word, and, all the Country round, fhe is call'd nothing but Ifaac's Beft Virginia.

There is but one Way of carrying Flattery to a greater Height than it is already arriv'd to. All Patrons have been, Time out of Mind, perfectly wife, perfectly juft, perfectly valiant, perfectly witty, and perfectly beautiful; all Patrons are fo, bet caufe all Authors have faid fo. Now what remains to be done for the Improvement of Flattery? even this: Let the Poet buckle himself in Armour, and, mounting a mettl'd Steed, fally forth into the Streets and Highways, and challenge to fingle Combat any bold Varlet who dare affert that all the reft of the World are, in the least Degree comparable for Virtue and Beauty, and all that, to one fingle Lord or Lady, who is, perhaps, if known, defpifed by all the reft of the World.

I expect the Thanks of our Authors for this Hint of mine, which yet I have borrowed from themselves. Confidering what several of them have threaten'd long ago, and do, upon Occafion, ftill. threaten, I have waited a good while to fee them grafp the Lance, and fall into the immediate. Practice of this Piece of Author Errantry, after having moft humbly invok'd his Grace, or her Ladyfhip to be propitious, &c.

Says one Author,

-I know, Sir, your Modefty will be tortur'd by what I have here afferted, but I am refolved to maintain my Point to the laft Drop of my Pen.