Faith, I am undone! this paper is larger than the other, and yet I am
condemned to a sheet; but, since it is MD, I did not value though I were
condemned to a pair. I told you in my letter to-day where I had been, and how
the day passed; and so, etc.

20. To-day I went to Mr. Lewis, at the Secretary's office, to know when I
might see Mr. Harley; and by and by comes up Mr. Harley himself, and appoints
me to dine with him to-morrow. I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh,[1] and went to
wait on the two Lady Butlers;[2] but the porter answered they were not at
home: the meaning was, the youngest, Lady Mary, is to be married to-morrow to
Lord Ashburnham,[3] the best match now in England, twelve thousand pounds a
year, and abundance of money. Tell me how my "Shower" is liked in Ireland: I
never knew anything pass better here. I spent the evening with Wortley
Montagu[4] and Mr. Addison, over a bottle of Irish wine. Do they know
anything in Ireland of my greatness among the Tories? Everybody reproaches me
of it here; but I value them not. Have you heard of the verses about the "Rod
of Sid Hamet"? Say nothing of them for your life. Hardly anybody suspects me
for them; only they think nobody but Prior or I could write them. But I doubt
they have not reached you. There is likewise a ballad full of puns on the
Westminster Election,[5] that cost me half an hour: it runs, though it be
good for nothing. But this is likewise a secret to all but MD. If you have
them not, I will bring them over.

21. I got MD's fourth to-day at the Coffee-house. God Almighty bless poor,
dear Stella, and her eyes and head! What shall we do to cure them? poor, dear
life! Your disorders are a pull-back for your good qualities. Would to
Heaven I were this minute shaving your poor, dear head, either here or there!
Pray do not write, nor read this letter, nor anything else; and I will write
plainer for Dingley to read from henceforward, though my pen is apt to ramble