The dramatist was one for whose work and person Swift had always sincere regard, which years did not diminish. In 1693, Swift addressed one of his early poems to Congreve, whose schoolfellow he had been; and when Congreve died in 1728, Swift's grief was bitter and sincere. 'I loved him from my Youth,' he says. 'Years have not yet hardened me; and I have an addition of weight on my spirits since we lost him.' The love was not lessened even by Congreve's degrading dependence, in his declining years, on the Duchess of Marlborough — the daughter of Swift's old foe.