Since then, even his Admirers allow, that Spleen has a great share in
his Composition, and as Thirst of Revenge, in full Possession of a
conscious Power to execute it, is a Temptation, which we see the
Depravity of Human Nature is so little able to resist, why then should
we wonder, that a Man so easily hurt, as Mr. _Pope_ seems to be, should
be so frequently delighted in his inflicting those Pains upon others,
which he feels he is not himself able to bear? This is the only way I
can account for his having sometimes carried his satyrical Strokes
farther, than, I doubt, a true and laudable Satyrist would have thought
justifiable. But it is now time to open, what on my own part I have to
charge him with.

In turning over his Works of the smaller Edition, the eldest Date I
find, in print, of my being out of his Favour, is from an odd Objection
he makes to a, then, new Play of mine, _The Non-Juror_. In one of his
Letters to Mr. _Jervas_, p. 85. he writes thus----

"Your Acquaintance, on this side the Water, are under terrible
Apprehensions, from your long stay in _Ireland_, that you may grow
too polite for them; for we think (since the great Success of _such
a Play as the Non-Juror_) that Politeness is gone over the Water,
_&c._

(By the way, was not his Wit a little stiff and weary, when he strained
so hard to bring in this costive Reflection upon the _Non-Juror_? Dear
Soul! What terrible Apprehensions it gave him!) And some few Lines after
he cries out----

"Poor Poetry! the little that's left of thee, longs to cross the
Seas----

Modestly meaning, I suppose, he had a mind to have gone over himself! If
he had gone, and had carried with him those polite Pieces, _The What
d'ye call it_, and _The Three Hours after Marriage_ (both which he had
a hand in) how effectually had those elaborate Examples of the true
Genius given, to the _Dublin_ Theatre, the Glory of Dramatick Poetry
restor'd? But _Drury-Lane_ was not so favourable to him; for there alas!
(where the last of them was unfortunately acted) he had so sore a Rap o'
the Fingers, that he never more took up his Pen for the Stage. But this
is not fair, you will say: My shewing Mr. _Pope_'s want of Skill in
Comedy, is no excuse for the want of it in myself; which his Satyr
sometimes charges me with: at least, it must be owned, it is not an easy
thing to hit by his missing it. And indeed I have had some doubt, as
there is no personal