was a certain Italian at court, famous for the guitar:  he had a genius for music, and he was the only man who could make anything of the guitar:  his style of play was so full of grace and tenderness, that he would have given harmony to the most discordant instruments.  The truth is, nothing was so difficult as to play like this foreigner.  The king’s relish for his compositions had brought the instrument so much into vogue, that every person played upon it, well or ill; and you were as sure to see a guitar on a lady’s toilet as rouge or patches.  The Duke of York played upon it tolerably well, and the Earl of Arran like Francisco himself.  This Francisco had composed a saraband, which either charmed or infatuated every person; for the whole guitarery at court were trying at it; and God knows what an universal strumming there was.  The Duke of York, pretending not to be perfect in it, desired Lord Arran to play it to him.  Lady Chesterfield had the best guitar in England.  The Earl of Arran, who was desirous of playing his best, conducted his Royal Highness to his sister’s apartments:  she was lodged at court, at her father’s, the Duke of Ormond’s; and this wonderful guitar was lodged there too.  Whether this visit had been preconcerted or not, I do not pretend to say; but it is certain that they found both the lady and the guitar at home:  they likewise found there Lord Chesterfield, so much surprised at this unexpected visit, that it was a considerable time before he thought of rising from his seat to receive them with due respect.

Jealousy, like a malignant vapour, now seized upon his brain:  a thousand suspicions, blacker than ink, took possession of his imagination, and were continually increasing; for, whilst the brother played upon the guitar to the duke, the sister ogled and accompanied him with her eyes, as if the coast had been clear, and no enemy to observe them.  This saraband was at least repeated twenty times:  the duke declared it was played to perfection:  Lady Chesterfield found fault with the composition; but her husband, who clearly perceived that he was the person played upon, thought it a most detestable piece.  However, though he was in the last agony at being obliged to curb his passion while others gave a free scope to theirs, he was resolved to find out the drift of the visit; but it was not in his power:  for, having the honour to be chamberlain to the queen, a messenger came to require his immediate attendance on her majesty.  His first thought was to pretend sickness:  the second to suspect that the queen, who sent for him at such an unseasonable time, was in the plot; but at last, after all the extravagant ideas of a suspicious man, and all the irresolutions of a jealous husband, he was obliged to go.