"And says she: 'With my black spade I dig the earth where all shall lie. 'Tis I will be the Black Hag of the Pack, and you shall strip them and I will dig their graves. Be it known to you that I am Destiny herself.'
"So they came to earth, and are the Queens of Diamonds, Hearts, and Clubs. But if the Queen of Spades be in your hand, say the gambler's prayer backward, for she is the chance you can't reckon in the game, or in life or death."
I think it neatly turned, whoever did it, and I declare this little writing hath so affrighted the fine ladies, that Mrs Murray swooned away at the Duchess of Manchester's, finding the Queen of Spades in her hand at commerce, and was forced to be revived with strong waters. His Grace of Wharton, known to you and me as "Sophia," hath given up cards altogether, though whether it be the parable, I know not. And the viper of Twicknam is so jealous that he did not himself write this piece, that he spews his venom in all directions, in hope some will settle on the author. His pleasure to scourge alike the follies and virtues of mankind is, for aught I know, the liveliest this world affords. The follies are, at least, inexhaustible, and none need be at a loss for amusement that can taste them, whether in themselves or others.
The Queen, who I can't undertake to commiserate for bad health, so hard a life as she leads, hath had the unspeakable blessing to see her lord return from Hanover, after a storm which induced his faithful subjects to believe they had lost him. Will your Ladyship credit that the wits affixed a paper to the walls of St. James's Palace with, writ on it, this following:--
"Lost or strayed out of this house, a man who has left a wife and six children on the parish. Whoever will give tidings of him to the churchwardens of St. James's Palace, so as he may be got again, shall receive four shillings and sixpence reward.--N.B. This reward will not be increased, nobody judging him to be worth a crown."
Impudence indeed! But I hear from Lord Hervey that she is counselled by Sir Robert Walpole to invite Madame Walmoden hither from Hanover, to amuse his leisure. 'Tis done as you might throw a bone to a dog, while Her Majesty and the Walpole pursue the business of governing. I have no sort of liking for either, but own, had that woman been a man, she had been a great one, so entirely does she subdue her heart and all the femininities in her to what her reason demands. When she dies, and it can't be long first, from what I hear, the fool she leaves will drift like a stick in a stream.
Well, I sicken of England and of the town and the wits and all else. My mind is made up to quit this country ere long, and seek peace abroad, where I found it when I was younger than I am now. Folly! I tell myself so, and yet I will do it, when one or two businesses I must attend on are finished. 'Tis not that I am a lamenter over that I have told you. I care not what happens to my prodigal, and had sooner be out of hearing of his doings. When a cup is broke, throw it from you and think of it no more. But whether 'tis the spleen or the vapours, I have a mind to cross the water and seek a new earth, if not a new heaven. Here I am in neither, but in purgatory. Quelle vie!--'Tis what I say daily.
Adieu, my dearest Madam--may it not be long before we meet.
Inviolably yours,
M. W. M.