n: so I have been very idle and naughty. It vexes me
to the pluck(7) that I should lose walking this delicious day. Have
you seen the Spectator(8) yet, a paper that comes out every day? 'Tis
written by Mr. Steele, who seems to have gathered new life, and have a
new fund of wit; it is in the same nature as his Tatlers, and they have
all of them had something pretty. I believe Addison and he club. I never
see them; and I plainly told Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John, ten days ago,
before my Lord Keeper and Lord Rivers, that I had been foolish enough
to spend my credit with them in favour of Addison and Steele; but that
I would engage and promise never to say one word in their behalf, having
been used so ill for what I had already done.--So, now I am got into the
way of prating again, there will be no quiet for me.

When Presto begins to prate,
Give him a rap upon the pate.

O Lord, how I blot! it is time to leave off, etc.

17. Guiscard died this morning at two; and the coroner's inquest have
found that he was killed by bruises received from a messenger, so to
clear the Cabinet Councillors from whom he received his wounds. I had a
letter from Raymond, who cannot hear of your box; but I hope you have
it before this comes to your hands. I dined to-day with Mr. Lewis of the
Secretary's office. Mr. Harley has abundance of extravasated blood comes
from his breast out of his wound, and will not be well so soon as we
expected. I had something to say, but cannot call it to mind. (What was
it?)

18. I was to-day at Court to look for the Duke of Argyle, and gave him
the memorial about Bernage. The Duke goes with the first fair wind. I
could not find him, but I have given the memorial to another to give
him; and, however, it shall be sent after him. Bernage has made a
blunder in offering money to his colonel without my advice; however, he
is made captain-lieutenant, only he must recruit the company, which
will cost him forty pounds, and that is cheaper than an hundred. I dined
to-day with Mr. Secretary St. John, and stayed till seven, but would not
drink his champagne and burgundy, for fear of the gout. My shin mends,
but is not well. I hope it will by the time I send this letter, next
Saturday.

19. I went to-day into the City, but in a coach, and sossed(9) up my
leg on the seat; and as I came home, I went to see poor Charles
Barnard's(10) books, which are to be sold by auction, and I itch to lay
out nine or ten pounds f