Swift, too, uses the phrase in his Battle of the Books in describing the encounter between Virgil and Dryden, where he says, “The helmet was nine times too large for the head, which appeared situate far in the hinder part, even like the lady in a lobster, or a mouse under a canopy of state, or like a shrivelled beau from within the penthouse of a modern periwig.”

SIR,—­I do not know that anybody has frighted me, or beaten me, or put me into more passion than what I usually carry about me, but yesterday I missed my fit, and am not without hope I shall hear no more on’t.  My father has lost his too, and my eldest brother, but we all look like people risen from the dead.  Only my cousin Molle keeps his still; and, in earnest, I am not certain whether he would lose it or not, for it gives him a lawful occasion of being nice and cautious about himself, to which he in his own humour is so much inclined that ’twere not easy for him to forbear it.  You need not send me my Lady Newcastle’s book at all, for I have seen it, and am satisfied that there are many soberer people in Bedlam.  I’ll swear her friends are much to blame to let her go abroad.

But I am hugely pleased that you have seen my Lady.  I knew you could not choose but like her; but yet, let me tell you, you have seen but the worst of her.  Her conversation has more charms than can be in mere beauty, and her humour and disposition would make a deformed person appear lovely.  You had strange luck to meet my brother so soon.  He went up but last Tuesday.  I heard from him on Thursday, but he did not tell me he had seen you; perhaps he did not think it convenient to put me in mind of you; besides, he thought he told me enough in telling me my cousin Osborne was married.  Why did you not send me that news and a garland?  Well, the best on’t is I have a squire now that is as good as a knight.  He was coming as fast as a coach and six horses could carry him, but I desired him to stay till my ague was gone, and give me a little time to recover my good looks; for I protest if he saw me now he would never deign to see me again.  Oh, me!  I can but think how I shall sit like the lady of the lobster, and give audience at Babram.  You have been there, I am sure.  Nobody that is at Cambridge ’scapes it.  But you were never so welcome thither as you shall be when I am mistress on’t.  In the meantime, I have sent you the first tome of Cyrus to read; when you have done with it, leave it at Mr. Hollingsworth’s, and I’ll send you another.  I have had ladies with me all the afternoon that are for London to-morrow, and now I have as many letters to write as my Lord General’s Secretary.  Forgive me that this is no longer, for

I am your.

Addressed—­

For Mrs. Paynter, at her house in
     Bedford Street, next ye Goate,
           In Covent Garden.

Letter 22.—­Mr. Fish and Mr. Freeman were probably neighbours of Dorothy.  There is a Mr. Ralph Freeman of Aspedon Hall, in Hertfordshire, mentioned in contemporary chronicles; he died in 1714, aged 88, and was therefore about 37 years of age at this time.  His father seems to have been an ideal country gentleman, “who,” says Sir Henry Chauncy, “made his house neat, his gardens pleasant, his groves delicious, his children cheerful, his servants easy, and kept excellent order in his family.”