"I am at present in a very ridiculous situation, under the hands of Dr. Romanelli and a fever which hath confined me to my bed for these three days past, but by the blessing of God and two glysters, I am now able to sit up, but much debilitated."
"I wrote to you two days ago, but the weather and my friend Stranè’s conversation being much the same, and my ally Nicolo in bed with a fever, I think I may as well talk to you, the rather, as you cant answer me and excite my wrath with impatient…
"I have been ill and well, quick and sorry, and glad, and coming, going and staying, like the rest of mankind, without gaining a step towards improvement except in languages, and even there my head is but a Babel of bad sounds."
"I am this moment come out of the Turkish Bath, which is an immense luxury to me, though I am afraid it would not suit you at all, their being a great deal of rubbing, sweating, & washing (your aversion)..."
"Though I neither know where you are or how you are, I write at a venture by way of Zante, as I have already done many times, indeed so often that I can’t afford you more than this present sheet –..."
"Your last 2 letters of 1810 I have just received, they find me on my way homewards, in the beginning of June I sail in the Volage frigate with French prizes and other English ships of war in all I believe 6 or 7 frigates. – – –"