To the ladies of the Court and others of Pope’s friends, Gay paid tribute in “Mr. Pope’s Welcome from Greece":—­

  What lady’s that to whom he gently bends? 
    Who knows her not?  Ah, those are Wortley’s eyes. 
  How art thou honour’d, number’d with her friends;
    For she distinguishes the good and wise. 
  The sweet-tongued Murray near her side attends: 
    Now to my heart the glance of Howard flies;
  Now Hervey, fair of face, I mark full well
    With thee, youth’s youngest daughter, sweet Lepell.

  I see two lovely sisters hand in hand,
    The fair-hair’d Martha and Teresa brown;
  Madge Bellenden, the tallest of the land;
    And smiling Mary, soft and fair as down. 
  Yonder I see the cheerful Duchess stand,
    For friendship, zeal, and blithesome humours known: 
  Whence that loud shout in such a hearty strain? 
    Why all the Hamiltons are in her train. 
  See next the decent Scudamore advance
    With Winchelsea, still meditating song,
  With her perhaps Miss Howe came there by chance. 
    Nor knows with whom, nor why she comes along.

Gay was now on intimate terms with Lord Harcourt, whom he presently introduced into “Mr. Pope’s Welcome from Greece":—­

  Harcourt I see, for eloquence renown’d,
    The mouth of justice, oracle of law! 
  Another Simon is beside him found,
    Another Simon like as straw to straw;

and early in 1718 he visited him, first at Cockthorpe and then at Stanton Harcourt, at which latter seat Pope was staying, working on the fifth volume of the “Iliad.”  In the following year Gay again crossed the Channel, possibly for the second time with the Pulteneys, but the only record of this trip is to be found in the following letter:—­

JOHN GAY TO THE HON.  MRS. HOWARD.

  Dijon, September 8th, 1719.

“If it be absolutely necessary that I make an apology for my not writing, I must give you an account of very bad physicians, and a fever which I had at Spa, that confined me for a month; but I do not see that I need make the least excuse, or that I can find any reason for writing to you at all; for can you believe that I would wish to converse with you if it were not for the pleasure to hear you talk again?  Then why should I write to you when there is no possibility of receiving an answer?  I have been looking everywhere since I came into France to find out some object that might take you from my thoughts, that my journey might seem less tedious; but since nothing could ever do it in England I can much less expect it in France.