which is against the rules of wisdom, because they say one enemy can do more hurt than ten friends can do good.  But I have had my revenge at least, if I get nothing else.  And so let Fate govern.—­Now I think your letter is answered; and mine will be shorter than ordinary, because it must go to-day.  We have had a great deal of scattering rain for some days past, yet it hardly keeps down the dust.—­We have plays acted in our town; and Patrick was at one of them, oh oh.  He was damnably mauled one day when he was drunk; he was at cuffs with a brother-footman, who dragged him along the floor upon his face, which looked for a week after as if he had the leprosy; and I was glad enough to see it.  I have been ten times sending him over to you; yet now he has new clothes, and a laced hat, which the hatter brought by his orders, and he offered to pay for the lace out of his wages.—­I am to dine to-day with Dilly at Sir Andrew Fountaine’s, who has bought a new house, and will be weary of it in half a year.  I must rise and shave, and walk to town, unless I go with the Dean in his chariot at twelve, which is too late:  and I have not seen that Lord Peterborow yet.  The Duke of Shrewsbury is almost well again, and will be abroad in a day or two:  what care you?  There it is now:  you do not care for my friends.  Farewell, my dearest lives and delights; I love you better than ever, if possible, as hope saved, I do, and ever will.  God Almighty bless you ever, and make us happy together!  I pray for this twice every day; and I hope God will hear my poor hearty prayers.—­Remember, if I am used ill and ungratefully, as I have formerly been, ’tis what I am prepared for, and shall not wonder at it.  Yet I am now envied, and thought in high favour, and have every day numbers of considerable men teasing me to solicit for them.  And the Ministry all use me perfectly well; and all that know them say they love me.  Yet I can count upon nothing, nor will, but upon MD’s love and kindness.—­They think me useful; they pretended they were afraid of none but me, and that they resolved to have me; they have often confessed this:  yet all makes little impression on me.—­Pox of these speculations! they give me the spleen; and that is a disease I was not born to.  Let me alone, sirrahs, and be satisfied:  I am, as long as MD and Presto are well.

     Little wealth,
     And much health,
     And a life by stealth: 

that is all we want; and so farewell, dearest MD; Stella, Dingley, Presto, all together, now and for ever all together.  Farewell again and again.

LETTER 26.

Chelsea, June 30, 1711.