BATH, December 6, 1761.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have been in your debt some time, which, you know, I am
not very apt to be: but it was really for want of specie to pay. The
present state of my invention does not enable me to coin; and you would
have had as little pleasure in reading, as I should have in writing ‘le
coglionerie’ of this place; besides, that I am very little mingled in
them. I do not know whether I shall be able to follow, your advice, and
cut a winner; for, at present, I have neither won nor lost a single
shilling. I will play on this week only; and if I have a good run, I will
carry it off with me; if a bad one, the loss can hardly amount to
anything considerable in seven days, for I hope to see you in town
to-morrow sevennight.
I had a dismal letter from Harte, last week; he tells me that he is at
nurse with a sister in Berkshire; that he has got a confirmed jaundice,
besides twenty other distempers. The true cause of these complaints I
take to be the same that so greatly disordered, and had nearly destroyed
the most august House of Austria, about one hundred and thirty years ago;
I mean Gustavus Adolphus; who neither answered his expectations in point
of profit nor reputation, and that merely by his own fault, in not
writing it in the vulgar tongue; for as to facts I will maintain that it
is one of the best histories extant.
‘Au revoir’, as Sir Fopling says, and God bless you!