LETTERXCVI.TO MR. M——.
August 14, 1779.
YOU kindly gave me liberty to bring Mrs. S——: the proposal did honour to your heart—and credit to your judgement;—but an affair has rendered that part of your invitation inadmissible,—Now pox take bad quills—and bad pen-makers!—Sir, it was fifty pound to a bean-shell, but that you had had a blot as big as both houses of parliament in the very fairest, yea and handsomest, part of this epistle:—my pen, like a drunkard, sucks up more liquor than it can carry, and so of course disgorges it at random.—I will that ye observe the above simile to be a good one—not the cleanliest in nature I own—but as pat to the purpose as dram-drinking to a bawd—or oaths to a serjeant of the guards—or—or—dullness to a Black-a-moor;—good—excessive good:—and pray what—(oh, this confounded pen!)—whatmay your Worship’s chief employ have been?—You have had your Devil’s dance—found yourself in a lazy fit—the ink-stand, &c. staring you full in the face—you yawned—stretched—and then condescended to scold me for omitting what properly, and according to strict rule, you should have done yourself a month ago.—Zounds!—God forgive us!——this thought oversets the patience—coat and lining—of your right trusty friend,
IGN. SANCHO.