SWIFT. Why, really _Tom_, as there is no lying in this World, that we are now launch'd into, I must own there is a great deal of Truth in all you have said; and tho' I often writ for the Sake of Applause, yet writing with such a View is a poor Motive, and the best and noblest, and I had almost said, the only justifiable one, is to do Good in an evil World. I don't see any Thing very desireable in the greatest Talents, or in the largest Affluence of Fortune, unless they are in some Measure employed in the Publick Service, and if they be, it truly dignifies them; nay, that single View is enough to sanctify the poorest Scribling, and to make the meanest scraping and saving of Avarice, pass for the Marks of a worthy Spirit. But tho' Patriots are generally so ill used, by the ungrateful World; you certainly came much better off than I did, for where you met with one Reviler, I met with one hundred. The Pamphlets wrote against me, wou'd have form'd a Library, or rather a Dormitory, where they might have slept in undisturb'd Repose; instead of furnishing Grocers and Pastry Cooks for Years together, to make some expiation for beggaring Printers and Booksellers. I have had Thousands written against me, with Virulence and Scandal. PRIOR. And what a wounding Grief must that be, to your generous Mind, to have so much Malice returned, where so much Gratitude was due; surely it gave you infinite Pain to be so lash'd and stigmatised, by a Rabble, of the most invenom'd and imbitter'd Scriblers upon Earth? SWIFT. Why, dear _Tom_, I cou'd laugh a Month at you for this. Why, they made no more Impression on my Spirit, with their scurrilous Pamphlets, than they wou'd have done, on my Statue, had they thrown them at it. I ever consider'd, that Abuse from such Scriblers, who write for a Livelihood, can no more be thought an Affront, than a Barber's taking you by the Nose; 'tis his Trade, and the Wretch would starve if you stopt him. What harm did all their Ribaldry do me? I neither eat, nor drunk, nor slept the worse for it. I don't suppose, that the scape Goat, which the _Jews_ loaded with Curses, and drove into the Wilderness, either died by their Maledictions, or grew a whit the leaner for them; nor was I ever the worse for all I met with. Why _Tom_, one had as good be a sensitive Plant, as to start and fly back, at every Touch, or every Appearance of being Touch'd, as some weak Men do. PRIOR. We may Reason thus, but Nature generally over masters our Opinions.