Part 2 — TO DR. SHERIDAN[1]

Dec. 14, 1719, Nine at night. SIR, It is impossible to know by your letter whether the wine is to be bottled to-morrow, or no. If it be, or be not, why did not you in plain English tell us so? For my part, it was by mere chance I came to sit with the ladies[2] this night. And if they had not told me there was a letter from you; and your man Alexander had not gone, and come back from the deanery; and the boy here had not been sent, to let Alexander know I was here, I should have missed the letter outright. Truly I don't know who's bound to be sending for corks to stop your bottles, with a vengeance. Make a page of your own age, and send your man Alexander to buy corks; for Saunders already has gone above ten jaunts. Mrs. Dingley and Mrs. Johnson say, truly they don't care for your wife's company, though they like your wine; but they had rather have it at their own house to drink in quiet. However, they own it is very civil in Mrs. Sheridan to make the offer; and they cannot deny it. I wish Alexander safe at St. Catherine's to-night, with all my heart and soul, upon my word and honour: But I think it base in you to send a poor fellow out so late at this time of year, when one would not turn out a dog that one valued; I appeal to your friend Mr. Connor. I would present my humble service to my Lady Mountcashel; but truly I thought she would have made advances to have been acquainted with me, as she pretended. But now I can write no more, for you see plainly my paper is ended.

1 P.S. I wish, when you prated, your letter you'd dated: Much plague it created. I scolded and rated; My soul is much grated; for your man I long waited. I think you are fated, like a bear to be baited: Your man is belated: the case I have stated; And me you have cheated. My stables unslated. Come back t'us well freighted. I remember my late head; and wish you translated, For teasing me.

2 P.S. Mrs. Dingley desires me singly Her service to present you; hopes that will content you; But Johnson madam is grown a sad dame, For want of your converse, and cannot send one verse.

3 P.S. You keep such a twattling with you and your bottling; But I see the sum total, we shall ne'er have a bottle; The long and the short, we shall not have a quart, I wish you would sign't, that we have a pint. For all your colloguing,[3] I'd be glad for a knoggin:[4] But I doubt 'tis a sham; you won't give us a dram. 'Tis of shine a mouth moon-ful, you won't part with a spoonful, And I must be nimble, if I can fill my thimble, You see I won't stop, till I come to a drop; But I doubt the oraculum, is a poor supernaculum; Though perhaps you may tell it, for a grace if we smell it. STELLA.

[Footnote 1: In this letter, though written in prose, the reader, upon examining, will find each second sentence rhymes to the former.—H.] [Footnote 2: Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Dingley.—F.] [Footnote 3: A phrase used in Ireland for a specious appearance of kindness without sincerity.—F.] [Footnote 4: A name used in Ireland for the English quartern.—F.]