I am going to Strawberry for a few days, pour faire mes piques. The gallery advances rapidly. The ceiling is Harry the Seventh’s chapel in proprid persona; the canopies are all placed; I think three months will quite complete it. — I have bought at Lord Granville’s sale the original picture of Charles Brandon and his queen; and have to-day received from France a copy of Madame Maintenon, which with my La Vali`ere, and copies of Madame Grammont, and of the charming portrait of the Mazarine at the Duke of St. Alban’s, is to accompany Bianca Capello and Ninon L’Enclos in the round tower. I hope now there will never be another auction, for I have not an inch of space, or a farthing left. As I have some remains of paper, I will fill it up with a song that I made t’other day in the postchaise, after a particular conversation that I had with Miss Pelham the night before at the Duke of Richmond’s.
The business of women, dear Chloe, is pleasure,
And by love ev’ry fair one her minutes should measure.
“Oh! for love we’re all ready,” you cry.—very true;
Nor would I rob the gentle fond god of his due.
Unless in the sentiments Cupid has part,
And dips in the amorous transport his dart
’Tis tumult, disorder, ’tis loathing and hate;
Caprice gives it birth, and contempt is its fate.
“True passion insensibly leads to the joy,
And grateful esteem bids its pleasures ne’er cloy.
Yet here you should stop-but your whimsical sex
Such romantic ideas to passion annex,
That poor men, by your visions and jealousy worried,
To Dyinphs less ecstatic, but kinder, are hurried.
In your heart, I consent, let your wishes be bred;
Only take care your heart don’t get into your head.
Adieu, till Midsummer-day!
(267) See ant`e, p. 175, Letter 117.-E.
(268) Lady Bolingbroke and the Countess of Pembroke were sisters.-E.