I must rise now and shave, and walk to town, unless I go with the Dean in his chariot at twelve:  and I have not seen that Lord Peterborough yet.  The Duke of Shrewsbury is almost well again, but what care you?  You do not care for my friends.  Farewell, my dearest lives and delights:  I love you better than ever, if possible, as hope saved, I do, and ever will.  God almighty bless you ever, and make us happy together!  I pray for this twice every day; and I hope God will hear my poor hearty prayers.  Remember, if I am used ill and ungratefully, as I have formerly been, ’tis what I am prepared for, and I shall not wonder at it.  Yet I am now envied, and thought in high favour, and have every day numbers of considerable men teasing me to solicit for them.  And the Ministry all use me perfectly well; and all that know them say they love me.  Yet I can count upon nothing, nor will, but upon MD’s love and kindness.  They think me useful; they pretended they were afraid of none but me, and that they resolved to have me; they have often confessed this:  yet all this makes little impression on me—­Pox of these speculations!  They give me the spleen; a disease I was not born to.  Let me alone, sirrahs, and be satisfied:  I am, as long as MD and Presto are well.  Little wealth, and much health, and a life by stealth:  that is all we want; and so farewell, dearest MD; Stella, Dingley, Presto, all together; now and for ever all together.  Farewell again and again.

LONDON, July, 1711.

I have just sent my 26th, and have nothing to say, because I have other letters to write (pshaw, I began too high) but to-morrow I will say more, and fetch up this line to be straight This is enough at present for two dear saucy naughty girls.

Morning.  It is a terrible rainy day.  Patrick lay out all last night, and is not yet returned:  faith, poor Presto is a desolate creature; neither servant, nor linen, nor anything.

I was at Court and Church to-day:  I am acquainted with about thirty in the drawing-room, and I am so proud I make all the Lords come up to me; one passes half an hour pleasant enough.  We had a dunce to preach before the queen to-day, which often happens.  Windsor is a delicious situation, but the town is scoundrel.  The Duke of Hamilton would needs be witty, and hold up my train as I walked upstairs.  It is an ill circumstance that on Sundays much company always meet at the great tables.  The Secretary showed me his bill of fare, to encourage me to dine with him.  “Poh,” said I, “show me a bill of company, for I value not your dinner.”

In my conscience.  I fear I shall have the gout.  I sometimes feel pains about my feet and toes:  I never drank till within these two years, and I did it to cure my head.  I often sit evenings with some of these people, and drink in my turn; but I am resolved to drink ten times less than before; but they advise me to let what I drink be all wine, and not to put water in it.  Tooke and the printer stayed to-day to finish their affair.  Then I went to see Lord Treasurer, and chid him for not taking notice of me at Windsor.  He said he kept a place for me yesterday at dinner, and expected me there; but I was glad I did not go, because the Duke of Buckingham was there, and that would have made us acquainted; which I have no mind to.