See what large paper I am forced to take, to write to MD; Patrick has brought me none clipped; but, faith, the next shall be smaller.  I dined to-day, as I told you, with Dilly at Sir Andrew Fountaine’s:  there were we wretchedly punning, and writing together to Lord Pembroke.  Dilly is just such a puppy as ever; and it is so uncouth, after so long an intermission.  My twenty-fifth is gone this evening to the post.  I think I will direct my next (which is this) to Mr. Curry’s, and let them send it to Wexford; and then the next enclosed to Reading.  Instruct me how I shall do.  I long to hear from you from Wexford, and what sort of place it is.  The town grows very empty and dull.  This evening I have had a letter from Mr. Philips, the pastoral poet, to get him a certain employment from Lord Treasurer.  I have now had almost all the Whig poets my solicitors; and I have been useful to Congreve, Steele, and Harrison:  but I will do nothing for Philips; I find he is more a puppy than ever, so don’t solicit for him.  Besides, I will not trouble Lord Treasurer, unless upon some very extraordinary occasion.

July 1.  Dilly lies conveniently for me when I come to town from Chelsea of a Sunday, and go to the Secretary’s; so I called at his lodgings this morning, and sent for my gown, and dressed myself there.  He had a letter from the Bishop, with an account that you were set out for Wexford the morning he writ, which was June 26, and he had the letter the 30th; that was very quick:  the Bishop says you design to stay there two months or more.  Dilly had also a letter from Tom Ashe, full of Irish news; that your Lady Lyndon[1] is dead, and I know not what besides of Dr. Coghill[2] losing his drab, etc.  The Secretary was gone to Windsor, and I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh.  Lord Treasurer is at Windsor too; they will be going and coming all summer, while the Queen is there, and the town is empty, and I fear I shall be sometimes forced to stoop beneath my dignity, and send to the ale-house for a dinner.  Well, sirrahs, had you a good journey to Wexford? did you drink ale by the way? were you never overturned? how many things did you forget? do you lie on straw in your new town where you are?  Cudshoe,[3] the next letter to Presto will be dated from Wexford.  What fine company have you there? what new acquaintance have you got?  You are to write constantly to Mrs. Walls and Mrs. Stoyte:  and the Dean said, “Shall we never hear from you?” “Yes, Mr. Dean, we’ll make bold to trouble you with a letter.”  Then at Wexford; when you meet a lady, “Did your waters pass well this morning, madam?” Will Dingley drink them too?  Yes, I warrant; to get her a stomach.  I suppose you are all gamesters at Wexford.  Do not lose your money, sirrah, far from home.  I believe I shall go to Windsor in a few days; at least, the Secretary tells me so.  He has a small house there, with just room enough for him and me; and I would be satisfied to pass a few days there sometimes.  Sirrahs, let me go to sleep, it is past twelve in our town.