Journal of the Plague Year

continued, by a Gentleman

There are Rumours among the ſervants that the Peſtilence hath ſo far forgot itſelf as to aſsault the Prince of Wales. Upon ſetting out for my Morning Jaunt I overheard one of the Maids goſsiping with a Coſtermonger's Apprentice and making reference to a Poore old Farte, and having had the Litter ſet down I impoſed a ſummary Sentence of an extra Brace of Turns with the Riding-crop, whereupon ſhe offered in Mitigation that ſhe was referring not to her revered Maſter but only to the Heir Apparent of the Imperial Throne. Exerciſing much Forbearance I explained to the Benighted Wench that this repreſented no diminution of her Sin, that a Prince of the Realm is ſurely ſafe from any Complaint of Vagrants and Foreigners, and that I hope to acquaint myſelf with the Prince by and by once appropriately ensconſed in the Offices of Her Majeſty's Government. To facilitate her Underſtanding I increaſed the penaltie to five extra Turns with the Riding-crop. Too late I thought better of it, for this Maid is a ſtrapping ſort, which meant in the Event that I had to call in one of the Footmen to help complete the Sentence. It is moſt inconvenient when using the Litter, as to-day the Footman can barely ſtand while I can barely ſit, ſuch is the State of our reſpective Buttocks, but above all elſe the Houſehold of an Engliſh Gentleman must have Diſcipline.