[Found in a bundle of loose papers apparently gathered together at random, in various hands, including household receipts, texts from the Bible, notes on household matters, stuffed into a box. The page has a ragged edge as if torn from a notebook, and indeed, upon finding the place in the relevant volume of Lady B-'s memoirs it can be seen that a page has been torn out just before the entry that begins with the same two paragraphs. This page is crumpled, the text struck through with a large cross made so very firmly that the pen dug into the paper and went right through in two places.]
Sure sometimes I feel a little desolate, for being a widow that must observe the usages of Society is almost the condition of some Turkish lady immur’d in a seraglio, lacking that companionship that I daresay fellow-wives discover with one another. I am seeing a certain amount of female society, with my callers, but I have been accustom’d to more society of gentlemen than I at present enjoy.
For one that has been accustom’d to be a votaress of Venus 'tis indeed somewhat trying: I miss my dear F-s extreme fierce, and did I have the choice they would be the companions I should chuse over all others, but sure a tumble with Biffle or the dear Admiral or some other favourite would be most agreeable.
Sure 'tis entirely for this reason – sure 'tis entirely foolish – no, indeed, silly C-, 'tis naught but that – quite entire a passing fancy – o, you are repay’d for your laughter over the matter he open’d to you –
Are his looks not universally admir’d? why should you suppose that you alone can remain unmov’d? has he not demonstrat’d the finest friendship towards you these many months?
Sure 'tis merely that you lye alone a good deal more than you have been wont.
Lye alone, wakefull, tossing in your solitary bed…
Did you disclose the matter, do you not confide that he would discover some philosophickal justification?
O, I will not be f---t as a matter of philosophy!
I put my hands to my face. Sure I am in the grip of furor uterinus, for I could have ravisht him upon the sopha will-he nill-he.
'Tis quite entire madness and I should be confin’d in a straitjacket.
At the end of this crossed-out passage, one sentence that reads ‘A sudden feverish delirium or frenzie that passt just as sudden’.
[Among these loose papers there is a very rough draft, with many crossings-out and emendations, in Lady B-'s handwriting, that suggests an attempt to use this episode as the basis for a horrid tale. If this was completed, it does not seem to have ever been published, though tracking down her shorter pieces is a complex and arduous task.]