17.  I went to Court to seek a dinner:  but the Queen was not at church, she has got a touch of the gout; so the Court was thin, and I went to the Coffee-house; and Sir Thomas Frankland and his eldest son and I went and dined with his son William.[49] I talked a great deal to Sir Thomas about Manley; and find he is his good friend, and so has Ned Southwell been, and I hope he will be safe, though all the Irish folks here are his mortal enemies.  There was a devilish bite to-day.  They had it, I know not how, that I was to preach this morning at St. James’s Church; an abundance went, among the rest Lord Radnor, who never is abroad till three in the afternoon.  I walked all the way home from Hatton Garden at six, by moonlight, a delicate night.  Raymond called at nine, but I was denied; and now I am in bed between eleven and twelve, just going to sleep, and dream of my own dear roguish impudent pretty MD.

18.  You will now have short days’ works, just a few lines to tell you where I am, and what I am doing; only I will keep room for the last day to tell you news, if there be any worth sending.  I have been sometimes like to do it at the top of my letter, until I remark it would be old before it reached you.  I was hunting to dine with Mr. Harley to-day, but could not find him; and so I dined with honest Dr. Cockburn, and came home at six, and was taken out to next door by Dopping and Ford, to drink bad claret and oranges; and we let Raymond come to us, who talks of leaving the town to-morrow, but I believe will stay a day or two longer.  It is now late, and I will say no more, but end this line with bidding my own dear saucy MD goodnight, etc.

19.  I am come down proud stomach in one instance, for I went to-day to see the Duke of Buckingham,[50] but came too late:  then I visited Mrs. Barton,[51] and thought to have dined with some of the Ministry; but it rained, and Mrs. Vanhomrigh was nigh, and I took the opportunity of paying her for a scarf she bought me, and dined there; at four I went to congratulate with Lord Shelburne, for the death of poor Lady Shelburne dowager;[52] he was at his country house, and returned while I was there, and had not heard of it, and he took it very well.  I am now come home before six, and find a packet from the Bishop of Clogher, with one enclosed to the Duke of Ormond, which is ten days earlier dated than another I had from Parvisol; however, ’tis no matter, for the Duke has already disposed of the Vice-Chancellorship to the Archbishop of Tuam,[53] and I could not help it, for it is a thing wholly you know in the Duke’s power; and I find the Bishop has enemies about the Duke.  I write this while Patrick is folding up my scarf, and doing up the fire (for I keep a fire, it costs me twelvepence a week); and so be quiet till I am gone to bed, and then sit down by me a little, and we will talk a few words more.  Well; now MD is at my bedside; and now what shall we say?  How does Mrs. Stoyte?  What had the Dean for supper?  How much did Mrs. Walls win?  Poor Lady Shelburne:  well, go get you to bed, sirrahs.