an
Examiner again,(9) and the Secretary and I will now and then send hints;
but we would have it a little upon the Grub Street, to be a match for
their writers. I dined with Lord Treasurer to-day at five: he dined
by himself after his family, and drinks no claret yet, for fear of his
rheumatism, of which he is almost well. He was very pleasant, as he is
always: yet I fancied he was a little touched with the present posture
of affairs. The Elector of Hanover's Minister here has given in a
violent memorial against the peace, and caused it to be printed. The
Whig lords are doing their utmost for a majority against Friday, and
design, if they can, to address the Queen against the peace. Lord
Nottingham,(10) a famous Tory and speech-maker, is gone over to the Whig
side: they toast him daily, and Lord Wharton says, It is Dismal (so they
call him from his looks) will save England at last. Lord Treasurer was
hinting as if he wished a ballad was made on him, and I will get up
one against to-morrow.(11) He gave me a scurrilous printed paper of bad
verses on himself, under the name of the English Catiline, and made me
read them to the company. It was his birthday, which he would not tell
us, but Lord Harley whispered it to me.

6. I was this morning making the ballad, two degrees above Grub Street:
at noon I paid a visit to Mrs. Masham, and then went to dine with our
Society. Poor Lord Keeper dined below stairs, I suppose, on a bit of
mutton. We chose two members: we were eleven met, the greatest meeting
we ever had: I am next week to introduce Lord Orrery. The printer came
before we parted, and brought the ballad, which made them laugh very
heartily a dozen times. He is going to print the pamphlet(12) in small,
a fifth edition, to be taken off by friends, and sent into the country.
A sixpenny answer is come out, good for nothing, but guessing me, among
others, for the author. To-morrow is the fatal day for the Parliament
meeting, and we are full of hopes and fears. We reckon we have a
majority of ten on our side in the House of Lords; yet I observed Mrs.
Masham a little uneasy: she assures me the Queen is stout. The Duke of
Marlborough has not seen the Queen for some days past; Mrs. Masham is
glad of it, because she says he tells a hundred lies to his friends of
what she says to him: he is one day humble, and the next day on the high
ropes. The Duke of Ormond, they say, will be in town to-night by twelve.

7. This being the day