Thank you for the second copy of King Richard; my book is finished; I shall send it you by the first opportunity. I did receive the bill of lading for Mr. Fox’s wine; and my reason for not telling you how he liked his vases was, because I did not, nor do yet know, nor does he; they are at Holland House, and will not be unpacked till he settles there: I own I have a little more impatience about new things.
My letters will grow more interesting to you, I suppose, as the summer opens: we have had no Winter campaign, I mean, no parliamentary war. You have been much misinformed about the King’s health—and had he been ill, do you think that the recovery of Hanover would not cure him? Yesterday the new convention with the King of Prussia was laid before the houses, and is to be considered next week: I have not yet read it, and only know that he is to receive from us two millions in three years, and to make no peace without us. I hope he will make one for us before these three years are expired. A great camp is forming in the Isle of Wight, reckoned the best spot for defence or attack. I suppose both will be tried reciprocally;
Sir Charles Williams’s disorder appears to have been lightheadedness from a fever; he goes about again; but the world, especially a world of enemies, never care to give up their title to a man’s madness, and will consequently not believe that he is yet in his senses.(885)
Lord Bristol certainly goes to Spain; no successor is named for Turin. You know how much I love a prescriptive situation for you, and how I should fear a more eminent one—and yet you see I notify Turin being open, if you should care to push for it. It is not to recommend it to you that I tell you of it, but I think it my duty as your friend not to take upon me to decide for you without acquainting you.
I rejoice at Admiral Osborn’s Success. I am not patriot enough to deny but that there are captains and admirals whose glory would have little charms for me; but Osborn was a steady friend of murdered Byng!
The Earl and Countess of Northumberland have diverted the town with a supper, which they intended should make their court to my Lady Yarmouth; the dessert was a chasse at Herenhausen, the rear of which was brought up by a chaise and six containing a man with a blue riband and a lady sitting by him! Did you ever hear such a vulgarism! The person complimented is not half so German, and consequently suffered martyrdom at this clumsy apotheosis of her concubinage. Adieu!


