20.  By what the Lord Keeper told me last night, I find he will not be made a peer so soon; but Mr. Harley’s patent for Earl of Oxford is now drawing, and will be done in three days.  We made him own it, which he did scurvily, and then talked of it like the rest.  Mr. Secretary had too much company with him to-day; so I came away soon after dinner.  I give no man liberty to swear or talk b—–­dy, and I found some of them were in constraint, so I left them to themselves.  I wish you a merry Whitsuntide, and pray tell me how you pass away your time; but, faith, you are going to Wexford, and I fear this letter is too late; it shall go on Thursday, and sooner it cannot, I have so much business to hinder me answering yours.  Where must I direct in your absence?  Do you quit your lodgings?

21.  Going to town this morning, I met in the Pall Mall a clergyman of Ireland, whom I love very well and was glad to see, and with him a little jackanapes, of Ireland too, who married Nanny Swift, Uncle Adam’s[19] daughter, one Perry; perhaps you may have heard of him.  His wife has sent him here, to get a place from Lowndes;[20] because my uncle and Lowndes married two sisters, and Lowndes is a great man here in the Treasury; but by good luck I have no acquaintance with him:  however, he expected I should be his friend to Lowndes, and one word of mine, etc., the old cant.  But I will not go two yards to help him.  I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, where I keep my best gown and periwig, to put on when I come to town and be a spark.

22.  I dined to-day in the City, and coming home this evening, I met Sir Thomas Mansel and Mr. Lewis in the Park.  Lewis whispered me that Mr. Harley’s patent for the Earl of Oxford was passed in Mr. Secretary St. John’s office; so to-morrow or next day, I suppose, he will be declared Earl of Oxford, and have the staff.[21] This man has grown by persecutions, turnings out, and stabbing.  What waiting, and crowding, and bowing will be at his levee! yet, if human nature be capable of so much constancy, I should believe he will be the same man still, bating the necessary forms of grandeur he must keep up.  ’Tis late, sirrahs, and I’ll go sleep.

23.  Morning.  I sat up late last night, and waked late to-day; but will now answer your letter in bed before I go to town, and I will send it to-morrow; for perhaps you mayn’t go so soon to Wexford.—­No, you are not out in your number; the last was Number 14, and so I told you twice or thrice; will you never be satisfied?  What shall we do for poor Stella?  Go to Wexford, for God’s sake:  I wish you were to walk there by three miles a day, with a good lodging at every mile’s end.  Walking has done me so much good, that I cannot but prescribe it often to poor Stella.  Parvisol has sent me a bill for fifty pounds, which I am sorry for, having not written to him for it, only mentioned it two months ago; but I hope he will be able to pay you what I have