LETTER XLV.

TO MRS ELIZABETH THOMAS, JUN.

MADAM, Friday, Dec. 29, 1699.

I have sent your poems back again, after having kept them so long from you; by which you see I am like the rest of the world, an impudent borrower, and a bad pay-master. You take more care of my health than it deserves; that of an old man is always crazy, and, at present, mine is worse than usual, by a St Anthony’s fire in one of my legs; though the swelling is much abated, yet the pain is not wholly gone, and I am too weak to stand upon it. If I recover, it is possible I may attempt Homer’s Iliad. A specimen of it (the first book) is now in the press, among other poems of mine, which will make a volume in folio, of twelve shillings’ price; and will be published within this month. I desire, fair author, that you will be pleas’d to continue me in your good graces, who am, with all sincerity and gratitude,

Your most humble servant,

and admirer,

JOHN DRYDEN.