“The Duchess of Queensbury is surprised and well pleased that the King hath given her so agreeable a command as to stay from Court, where she never came for diversion but to bestow a civility on the King and Queen; she hopes by such an unprecedented order as this is that the King will see as few as he wishes at his Court particularly such as dare to think or speak truth. (Here the indignant lady slid from the third person to the first.) I dare not do otherwise, and ought not nor could have imagined that it would not have been the highest compliment that I could possibly pay the King to endeavour to support truth and innocence in his house, particularly when the King and Queen both told me they had not read Mr. Gay’s play. I have certainly done right then to stand by my own words. “C. Queensbury.”[A] [A] (This letter is authentic.) ----- “What say you now, Madam?” cries he ending— “Here are we made to appear ridiculous, whereas had my counsel of moderation been followed——” The Queen, about to speak, checked herself and bowed submissively, hoping thus to make her court, for ’twas ever her maxim to be supple in inessentials, and conceal the steel hand in the silkiest of velvet. But ’twould not do this time. “Can’t you speak, Madam? You’re voluble enough when ’tis mischievous to speak— What’s your opinion of the woman?” “What can it be, Sire? A female Yahoo!” “What’s a Yahoo?” inquires the Sovereign, blinking his little red eyes rapidly. “A character in Gulliver’s Travels,” says the Queen—“and might have been drawn for the Duchess’s picture—chattering, silly, an ape in speech and action——” “I read that book or endeavoured to, and was of the opinion that some of the man’s adventures could not altogether be true,” says the Sovereign angrily. “What are books? Rubbish, no more. Leave talking of such nonsense, Madam, and as ’twas you and my Lord Hervey made this mess, get me out of it.” His Lordship now drew the fire on himself, willing to spare his Mistress, and the Defender of the Faith blustered and stormed for another half-hour till the Queen was near weeping with fatigue and annoyance. Her pride, however, bid her bide it, and she was supported in her resolution by a comical face Lord Hervey ventured at her when his Majesty turned on the silent Princess and rebuked her for keeping her mouth open like a butchered calf. ’Twas the happiest family circle and set an example to all others in the three Kingdoms. This must be owned. Finally the storm muttered itself away for the present, the Queen determining that a dignified cheerfulness was the best mode in which to meet the affront. “In this Court,”—says the King, concluding—“there isn’t an honest man nor a decent woman. I defy any good thing to come out of such filth.”