If there is one lesson to be learned in the House of Rhetoric, it is "never cross a literate courtesan." The Duke of Wellington learned this lesson too late. The sharp pen of Harriette Wilson made a public laughing stock of him."My own Wellington, who has sighed over me by the hour, talked of my wonderful beauty, ran after me . . . only for a single smile from his beautiful Harriette. Did he not kneel? And was I not the object of his first, his most ardent wishes, on his arrival from Spain? Only it was such a pity that Argyle got to my house first. . . .my tender swain Wellington stood in the gutter at two in the morning, pouring forth his amorous wishes in the pouring rain, in strains replete with heartrending grief."--Harriette Wilson
Buy the Memoirs
Perhaps Timarchus is more to your taste?