talk of great promotions to be made; that Mr. Harley is to be lord treasurer, and lord Poulet[1] master of the horse, &c. but they are only conjecture. The speaker is to make Mr. Harley a compliment the first time he comes into the house, which I hope will be in a week. He has had an ill surgeon, by the caprice of that puppy Dr. Radcliffe; which has kept him back so long; and yesterday he got a cold, but is better to day. What! I think I am stark mad to write so much in one day to little saucy MD; here's a deal of stuff, indeed; can't you bid those little dear rogues good night, and let them go sleep, Mr. Presto? When your tongue runs there's no ho with you, pray.
11. Again at the lobby, like a lobcock, of the house of commons, about your Irish yarn, and again put off till Friday; and I and Patrick went into the city by water, where I dined, and then I went to the auction of Charles Bernard's books, but the good ones were so monstrous dear, I could not reach them, so I laid out one pound seven shillings but very indifferently, and came away, and will go there no more. Henley would fain engage me to go with Steele and Rowe, &c. to an invitation at sir William Read's[2]. Surely you have heard of him. He has been a mountebank, and is the Queen's oculist; he makes admirable punch, and treats you in gold vessels. But I
- ↑ He was at this time first commissioner of the treasury.
- ↑ He lived in Durham yard. His advertisements in the Tatler (which displayed his astonishing abilities in the cure of every disorder of the eye, in removing wens and hare lips, and in the curing of wry necks) conclude by a notice, "that he allowed no body to pratice in his name but his lady, whom he had instructed."
