sort: for, I take to them, as being naturally inclined to those who can do no mischief. Pray, do you come to England this year? He thinks you do. I wish you would; and so does the duchess of Queensberry. What would you have more to induce you? Your money cries, come spend me; and your friends cry, come see me. I have been treated barbarously by you. If you knew how often I talk of you, how often I think of you, you would now and then direct a letter to me, and I would allow Mr. Pope to have his share in it. In short, I do not care to keep any man's money, that serves me so. Love or money I must have; and if you will not let me have the comfort of the one, I think I must endeavour to get a little comfort by spending some of the other. I must beg that you will call at Amesbury, in your way to London; for I have many things to say to you; and I can assure you, you will be welcome to a three pronged fork. I remember your prescription, and I do ride upon the downs; and at present I have no asthma. I have killed five brace of partridges, and four brace and a half of quails: and I do not envy either sir Robert or Stephen Duck, who is the favourite poet of the court[1]. I hear sometimes from Pope, and from scarce any body else. Were I to live ever so long, I believe I should never think of London; but I cannot help thinking of you. Were you here, I could talk to you, but I would not; for
- ↑ Stephen Duck was a poor thresher, who having written some verses, they were shown to the late queen, who made him her library-keeper at Richmond. He afterward took orders, and was preferred to a living, but growing melancholy, he at last drowned himself.
