I have well perused the writings of Luke Milbourn, Shadwell, Settle, Blackmore, and many others of our stamp, notable for salt wit upon Dryden. From these I have extracted curious hints to assist Welsted in his new satire against Pope, which was once (he told me) to have been christened Labeo. 'Tis yet an embrio, and there are divers opinions about the birth of it. Some expect it will spring from his wise noddle, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter, and work wonders. Others, that it will resemble Milton's figure of Sin coming from the brain of the father of lies. Then, say they, it will damn the parent's reputation. But most are of opinion, that my brother has no reputation to lose, and therefore the brat will be stillborn. 'Tis possible also he may miscarry of his second epistle to Mr. Pope, though James Moore Smythe, Esquire, is to officiate man-midwife.