erborough to urge Pope to refrain. The mission was undertaken
reluctantly, and the result was scarcely satisfactory. "He said to me,"
Lord Peterborough wrote to Lady Mary, "what I had taken the liberty of
saying to you, that he wondered how the town would apply these lines to
any but some noted common woman; that he would yet be more surprised if
you should take them to yourself; he named to me four remarkable
poetesses and scribblers, Mrs. Centlivre, Mrs. Heywood, Mrs. Manley, and
Mrs. Behn, assuring me that such only were the objects of his satire."

Much upset, Lady Mary wrote the following letter to Arbuthnot:

January 3 [1735].

"Sir,

"I have perused the last lampoon of your ingenious friend, and am not
surprised you did not find me out under the name of Sappho, because
there is nothing I ever heard in our characters or circumstances to make
a parallel, but as the town (except you, who know better) generally
suppose Pope means me, whenever he mentions that name, I cannot help
taking notice of the horrible malice he bears against the lady signified
by that name, which appears to be irritated by supposing her writer of
the Verses to the Imitator of Horace. Now I can assure him they were
wrote (without my knowledge) by a gentleman of great merit, whom I very
much esteem, who he will never guess, and who, if he did know, he durst
not attack; but I own the design was so well meant, and so excellently
executed, that I cannot be sorry they were written. I wish you would
advise poor Pope to turn to some more honest livelihood than libelling;
I know he will allege in his excuse that he must write to eat, and he
has now grown sensible that nobody will buy his verses except their
curiosity is piqued to it, to see what is said of their acquaintance;
but I think this method of gain so exceeding vile that it admits of no
excuse at all.--Can anything be more detestable than his abusing poor
Moore, scarce cold in his grave, when it is plain he kept back his poem,
while he lived, for fear he should beat him for it? This is shocking to
me, though of a man I never spoke to and hardly knew by sight; but I am
seriously concerned at the worse scandal he has heaped on Mr. Congreve,
who was my friend, and whom I am obliged to justify, because I can do it
on my own knowledge, and, which is yet farther bring witness of it, from
those who were then often with me that he was so far from loving Pope's
rhyme, both that--and his conversa