'The Dean then shew'd me the Poem he wrote on his own death; when I came to that Part of it, [italics] Behold the fatal Day arrive! How is the Dean? He's just alive [end italics] I was so sensibly affected, that my Eyes fill'd with Tears; The Dean observing it, said, "Phoo, I am not dead yet - but you shan't read any more now". I then earnestly requested he would let me take it home with me. [he did this, on condition she neither copy it nor show it to anyone else - she did not, but her memory was very good and she learnt it and "could not forbear delighting some particular Friends with a Rehearsal of it" - when Swift heard others knew it, he thought LP had broken her word and was furious. He would not believe her assurances to the contrary] and produc'd a Poerm something like it, publish'd in [italics] London [end italics], and told me, from my reading it about, that odd Burlesque on it had taken rise. He bade me read it aloud. I did so, and could not forbear laughing, as I plainly perceiv'd, tho' he had endeavour'd to disguise his Stile, that the Dean had burlesqu'd himself'.