I am afraid the clatter of ladies tongues is no very good cure for a giddiness in the head. When your grace, (as you say) was young, as I am not, the ladies were better company, or you more easily pleased. I am perpetually reproaching them for their ignorance, affectation, impertinence, (but my paper will not hold all) except lady Betty Rochfort, your old acquaintance.
I own, my head, and your grace's feet, would be ill joined; but give me your head and take my feet, and match us in the kingdom if you can.
My lord, I row after health like a waterman, and ride after it like a postboy, and find some little success; but subeunt morbi tristisque senectus. I have a receipt to which you are a stranger; my lord Oxford and Mr. Prior used to join with me in taking it; to whom I often said, when we were two hours diverting ourselves with trifles, vive la bagatelle. I am so deep among the workmen at Rochfort's canals and lakes, so dextrous at the oar, such an alderman after the hare
I am just now told from some newspapers, that one of the king's enemies, and my excellent friend, Mr. Prior, is dead; I pray God deliver me from many such trials. I am neither old nor philosopher enough to be indifferent at so great a loss; and therefore I abruptly conclude, but with the greatest respect, my lord,
Your grace's most dutiful,
and obedient servant,
