musements, with all the politeness and magnificence which the
inclinations of a prince naturally addicted to tenderness and pleasure,
could suggest: the beauties were desirous of charming, and the men
endeavoured to please: all studied to set themselves off to the best
advantage: some distinguished themselves by dancing; others by show and
magnificence; some by their wit, many by their amours, but few by their
constancy. There was a certain Italian at court, famous for the guitar:
he had a genius for music, and he was the only man who could make
anything of the guitar: his style of play was so full of grace and
tenderness, that he would have given harmony to the most discordant
instruments. The truth is, nothing was so difficult as to play like
this foreigner. The king's relish for his compositions had brought the
instrument so much into vogue, that every person played upon it, well or
ill; and you were as sure to see a guitar on a lady's toilet as rouge or
patches. The Duke of York played upon it tolerably well, and the Earl
of Arran like Francisco himself. This Francisco had composed a saraband,
which either charmed or infatuated every person; for the whole guitarery
at court were trying at it; and God knows what an universal strumming
there was. The Duke of York, pretending not to be perfect in it, desired
Lord Arran to play it to him. Lady Chesterfield had the best guitar
in England. The Earl of Arran, who was desirous of playing his best,
conducted his Royal Highness to his sister's apartments: she was lodged
at court, at her father's, the Duke of Ormond's; and this wonderful
guitar was lodged there too. Whether this visit had been preconcerted or
not, I do not pretend to say; but it is certain that they found both
the lady and the guitar at home: they likewise found there Lord
Chesterfield, so much surprised at this unexpected visit, that it was a
considerable time before he thought of rising from his seat to receive
them with due respect.

Jealousy, like a malignant vapour, now seized upon his brain: a thousand
suspicions, blacker than ink, took possession of his imagination, and
were continually increasing; for, whilst the brother played upon the
guitar to the duke, the sister ogled and accompanied him with her eyes,
as if the coast had been clear, and no enemy to observe them. This
saraband was at least repeated twenty times: the duke declared it
was played to perfection: Lady Chesterfield found fault with the