ere not very important, though she has related them
with all the advantage they can admit of. They are such as commonly
happen to poets in distress, though it does not often fall out, that the
insolence of wealth meets with such a bold return as this lady has given
it. There is a spirit of keenness, and freedom runs through her book,
she spares no man because he is great by his station, or famous by his
abilities. Some knowledge of the world may be gained from reading her
Memoirs; the different humours of mankind she has shewn to the life, and
whatever was ridiculous in the characters she met with, is exposed in
very lively terms.

The next scene which opens in Mrs. Pilkington's life, is the prison of
the Marshalsea. The horrors and miseries of this jail she has
pathetically described, in such a manner as should affect the heart of
every rigid creditor. In favour of her fellow-prisoners, she wrote a
very moving memorial, which, we are told, excited the legislative power
to grant an Act of Grace for them. After our poetess had remained nine
weeks in this prison, she was at last released by the goodness of Mr.
Cibber, from whose representation of her distress, no less than sixteen
dukes contributed a guinea apiece towards her enlargement. When this
news was brought her, she fainted away with excess of joy. Some time
after she had tasted liberty, she began to be weary of that continued
attendance upon the great; and therefore was resolved, if ever she was
again favoured with a competent sum, to turn it into trade, and quit the
precarious life of a poetical mendicant. Mr. Cibber had five guineas in
reserve for her, which, with ten more she received from the duke of
Marlborough, enabled her to take a shop in St. James's Street, which she
filled with pamphlets and prints, as being a business better suited to
her taste and abilities, than any other. Her adventures, while she
remained a shopkeeper, are not extremely important. She has neglected to
inform us how long she continued behind the counter, but has told us,
however, that by the liberality of her friends, and the bounty of her
subscribers, she was set above want, and that the autumn of her days was
like to be spent in peace and serenity.

But whatever were her prospects, she lived not long to enjoy the
comforts of competence, for on the 29th of August, 1750, a few years
after the publication of her second volume, she died at Dublin, in the
thirty ninth year of her age.