ayed
till two, so you may believe 'tis late enough.

20. This day has gone all wrong, by sitting up so late last night. Lord
Treasurer is not yet well, and can't go to Windsor. I dined with Sir
Matthew Dudley, and took occasion to hint to him that he would lose his
employment, for which I am very sorry. Lord Pembroke and his family are
all come to town. I was kept so long at a friend's this evening that I
cannot send this to-night. When I knocked at my lodgings, a fellow asked
me where lodged Dr. Swift? I told him I was the person: he gave me
a letter he brought from the Secretary's office, and I gave him a
shilling: when I came up, I saw Dingley's hand: faith, I was afraid, I
do not know what. At last it was a formal letter, from Dingley about
her exchequer business. Well, I'll do it on Monday, and settle it with
Tooke. And now, boys, for your letter, I mean the first, N.21. Let's
see; come out, little letter. I never had the letter from the Bishop
that Raymond mentions; but I have written to Ned Southwell, to desire
the Duke of Ormond to speak to his reverence, that he may leave off his
impertinence. What a pox can they think I am doing for the Archbishop
here? You have a pretty notion of me in Ireland, to make me an agent
for the Archbishop of Dublin.--Why! do you think I value your
people's ingratitude about my part in serving them? I remit them their
first-fruits of ingratitude, as freely as I got the other remitted to
them. The Lord Treasurer defers writing his letter to them, or else they
would be plaguily confounded by this time. For he designs to give the
merit of it wholly to the Queen and me, and to let them know it was
done before the Duke of Ormond was Lord Lieutenant. You visit, you dine
abroad, you see friends; you pilgarlick;(14) you walk from Finglas, you
a cat's foot. O Lord--Lady Gore(15) hung her child by the WAIST; what is
that waist?(16) I don't understand that word; he must hang on till
you explain or spell it.--I don't believe he was pretty, that's a
liiii.--Pish! burn your First-Fruits; again at it. Stella has made
twenty false spellings in her writing; I'll send them to you all back
again on the other side of this letter, to mend them; I won't miss one.
Why, I think there were seventeen bishops' names to the letter Lord
Oxford received.--I will send you some pamphlets by Leigh; put me in
mind of it on Monday, for I shall go then to the printer; yes, and the
Miscellany. I am mightily obliged to