a, the night we all three slept in the same bed, than I cared
for; so I pacified them. Fred said we had better try again, Laura
objected. "Oh! yes Mrs. Modest," said Mabel, "when you found it was not
Fred, why didn't you cry out?" "I didn't know," said Laura. "Ah! ah! the
printer's wife," we shouted, then more baudy talk, recriminations, and
squabbling. Laura said she should go home, Fred said she might go by
herself. Lord A... who had half fallen asleep, said it was too late,
and we had better stop. Some one said we could soon again make the beds
comfortable in the upper rooms. "That be damned," said Fred, "we will
all sleep on the floor as they are now." "Free fucking for ever," said
I. Laura said I was a blackguard, Mabel said she should like it, Lady
A... said she didn't care, if Adolphus didn't, Adolphus said any cunt
would suit him. He was reeling drunk as he spoke.

All this time we were in shirts and chemises. One woman had thrown a
shawl over her, one a petticoat, but their breasts flashed out, their
arms were naked, their legs showing to their knees, the men were naked
to their knees in their shirts. The scene was exciting, the women hadn't
washed their cunts, Fred said so. Mabel asked him if he was sure of it.
No, he would feel. Laura told him he must be drunk, and was a beast.
"Drunk?" said he, "look here." He turned a sommersault, and stood on his
hands and head, his heels against the wall, his backside in the air,
his prick and cods falling downwards over his belly, his shirt over
his head. Lady A... took up a bunch of grapes, and dashed it on his
ballocks. Then we chased the women round the room, tried to feel them,
and they us. It was like hell broke loose, till we agreed to sleep on
the floor together, any how.

No lights; lights and piss-pots were put in the back bed-room,--a woman
suggested that. "You're frightened of farting," said some one. The women
went up to make the beds more comfortable, whilst we men fetched candles
from the kitchen, the others being well nigh burned out. The women had
washed their cunts, we had more wine, and then we all were pretty well
screwed, and Lord A... pretty drunk when we went up to them.

Up to that time I was sufficiently sober to know all I have written, and
plenty more. Surely I could tell a lot more of our conversation, but it
would prolong the tale too much. After the last bottle of champagne
I was groggy, recollect less clearly, was in a half-sleepy, feverish