part of it is
domestick. It has been said, there is pleasure in writing, particularly
in writing verses. I allow you may have pleasure from writing, after
it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it
again. I know when I have been writing verses, I have run my finger down
the margin, to see how many I had made, and how few I had to make.'

He seemed to be in a very placid humour, and although I have no note of
the particulars of young Mr. Burke's conversation, it is but justice
to mention in general, that it was such that Dr. Johnson said to me
afterwards, 'He did very well indeed; I have a mind to tell his father.'

I have no minute of any interview with Johnson till Thursday, May 15,
when I find what follows:--BOSWELL. 'I wish much to be in Parliament,
Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, unless you come resolved to support any
administration, you would be the worse for being in Parliament, because
you would be obliged to live more expensively.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps, Sir,
I should be the less happy for being in Parliament. I never would sell
my vote, and I should be vexed if things went wrong.' JOHNSON. 'That's
cant, Sir. It would not vex you more in the house, than in the gallery:
publick affairs vex no man.' BOSWELL. 'Have not they vexed yourself
a little, Sir? Have not you been vexed by all the turbulence of this
reign, and by that absurd vote of the house of Commons, "That the
influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be
diminished?"' Johnson. 'Sir, I have never slept an hour less, nor eat an
ounce less meat. I would have knocked the factious dogs on the head, to
be sure; but I was not VEXED.' BOSWELL. 'I declare, Sir, upon my honour,
I did imagine I was vexed, and took a pride in it; but it WAS, perhaps,
cant; for I own I neither ate less, nor slept less.' JOHNSON. 'My dear
friend, clear your MIND of cant. You may TALK as other people do: you
may say to a man, "Sir, I am your most humble servant." You are not
his most humble servant. You may say, "These are bad times; it is a
melancholy thing to be reserved to such times." You don't mind the
times. You tell a man, "I am sorry you had such bad weather the last day
of your journey, and were so much wet." You don't care six-pence whether
he is wet or dry. You may TALK in this manner; it is a mode of talking
in Society: but don't THINK foolishly.'

Here he discovered a notion common enough in persons not much accustomed
to enter