company, and I was not merry at all. Mr. Harley made me read a paper of verses of Prior's. I read them plain without any fine manner, and Prior swore I should never read any of his again; but he would be revenged, and read some of mine as bad. I excused myself, and said, I was famous for reading verses the worst in the world[1], and that every body snatched them from me when I offered to begin. So we laughed. Sir Andrew Fountaine still continues ill. He is plagued with some sort of bile.
January 1. Morning. I wish my dearest pretty Dingley and Stella a happy new year, and health, and mirth, and good stomachs, and Fr's company. Faith, I did not know how to write Fr. I wondered what was the matter; but now I remember I always write Pdfr[2]. Patrick wishes me a happy new year, and desires I would rise, for it is a good fire, and faith it is cold. I was so politick last night with MD, never saw the like. Get the Examiners, and read them; the last nine or ten are full of the reasons for the late change, and of the abuses of the last ministry; and the great men assure me they are all true. They are written by their encouragement and direction. I must rise and go see sir Andrew Fountaine; but perhaps to night I may answer MD's letter: so good morrow, my mistresses all, good morrow. I wish you both a merry new year, roast beef, minced pies, and good strong beer, and me a share of your good cheer. That I was there, or you were here, and you are a little saucy dear. Good morrow again, dear sirrahs; one cannot rise
