LETTER 53.[1] LONDON, Oct. 9, 1712.
Oct. 11. Lord Treasurer sent for me yesterday and the day before to sit with him, because he is not yet quite well enough to go abroad; and I could not finish my letter. How the deuce come I to be so exact in ME money? Just seventeen shillings and eightpence more than due; I believe you cheat me. If Hawkshaw does not pay the interest I will have the principal; pray speak to Parvisol and have his advice what I should do about it. Service to Mrs. Stoyte and Catherine and Mrs. Walls. Ppt makes a petition with many apologies. John Danvers, you know, is Lady Giffard's friend. The rest I never heard of. I tell you what, as things are at present, I cannot possibly speak to Lord Treasurer for anybody. I need tell you no more. Something or nothing will be done in my own affairs: if the former, I will be a solicitor for your sister;[13] if the latter, I have done with Courts for ever. Opportunities will often fall in my way, if I am used well, and I will then make it my business. It is my delight to do good offices for people who want and deserve, and a tenfold delight to do it to a relation of Ppt, whose affairs she has so at heart.[14] I have taken down his name and his case (not HER case), and whenever a proper time comes, I will do all I can; zat's enough to say when I can do no more; and I beg oo pardon a sousand times,[15] that I cannot do better. I hope the Dean of St. P[atrick's] is well of his fever: he has never writ to me: I am glad of it; pray don't desire him to write. I have dated your bill late, because it must not commence, ung oomens, till the first of November[16] next. O, fais, I must be ise;[17] iss, fais, must I; else ME will cheat Pdfr. Are you good housewives and readers? Are you walkers? I know you are gamesters. Are you drinkers? Are you-- O Rold, I must go no further, for fear of abusing fine radies.[18] Parvisol has never sent me one word how he set this year's tithes. Pray ask whether tithes set well or ill this year. The Bishop of Killaloe[19] tells me wool bears a good rate in Ireland: but how is corn? I dined yesterday with Lady Orkney, and we sat alone from two till eleven at night.--You have heard of her, I suppose. I have twenty letters upon my hands, and am so lazy and so busy, I cannot answer them, and they grow upon me for several months. Have I any apples at Laracor? It is strange every year should blast them, when I took so much care for shelter. Lord Bolingbroke has been idle at his country-house this fortnight, which puts me backward in a business I have. I am got into an ordinary room two pair of stairs, and see nobody, if I can help it; yet some puppies have found me out, and my man is not such an artist as Patrick at denying me. Patrick has been soliciting to come to me again, but in vain. The printer has been here with some of the new whims printed, and has taken up my time. I am just going out, and can only bid oo farewell. Farewell, deelest ickle MD, MD MD MD FW FW FW FW ME ME ME ME. Lele deel ME. Lele lele lele sollahs bose.[20]