g.--So farewell till I go to bed, for I am going to be busy.--It is
now past ten, and I went down to ask the servants about Mr. Secretary:
they tell me the Queen is yet at Council, and that she went to supper,
and came out to the Council afterwards. It is certain they are managing
a peace. I will go to bed, and there is an end.--It is now eleven, and
a messenger is come from Lord Treasurer to sup with them; but I have
excused myself, and am glad I am in bed; for else I should sit up till
two, and drink till I was hot. Now I'll go sleep.

London, 24. I came to town by six with Lord Treasurer, and have stayed
till ten. That of the Queen's going out to sup, and coming in again, is
a lie, as the Secretary told me this morning; but I find the Ministry
are very busy with Mr. Prior, and I believe he will go again to France.
I am told so much, that we shall certainly have a peace very soon. I had
charming weather all last week at Windsor; but we have had a little rain
to-day, and yesterday was windy. Prior's Journey sells still; they have
sold two thousand, although the town is empty. I found a letter from
Mrs. Fenton here, desiring me, in Lady Giffard's name, to come and pass
a week at Sheen, while she is at Moor Park. I will answer it with a
vengeance: and now you talk of answering, there is MD's N.20 is yet to
be answered: I had put it up so safe, I could hardly find it; but here
it is, faith, and I am afraid I cannot send this till Thursday; for I
must see the Secretary to-morrow morning, and be in some other place in
the evening.

25. Stella writes like an emperor, and gives such an account of her
journey, never saw the like. Let me see; stand away, let us compute; you
stayed four days at Inish-Corthy, two nights at Mrs. Proby's mother's,
and yet was but six days in journey; for your words are, "We left
Wexford this day se'ennight, and came here last night." I have heard
them say that "travellers may lie by authority." Make up this, if you
can. How far is it from Wexford to Dublin? how many miles did you travel
in a day?(17) Let me see--thirty pounds in two months is nine score
pounds a year; a matter of nothing in Stella's purse! I dreamed Billy
Swift was alive, and that I told him you writ me word he was dead, and
that you had been at his funeral; and I admired at your impudence, and
was in mighty haste to run and let you know what lying rogues you were.
Poor lad! he is dead of his mother's former folly and fondness; and