Letter. My man returned from you dead drunk [see item at MS 143 Cc.11], found your letter in his pocket. News increasing of the battle; deaths. My brother will be colonel of the train of artillery with Lord Rivers. I believe your brother, Sir Joseph and his Secretary are prowling in the Citty by sham names and titles to discover the mistery of cloathing with no good intencion to you. What the French prisonners say: this is the last push, and they hope the Duke will give them a just peace.