LETTER XLVII

  MR. MOWBRAY, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.WEDNESDAY, TWELVE O'CLOCK.

  DEAR LOVELACE,

  I have plaguy news to acquaint thee with. Miss Harlowe is gone off!--Quite gone, by soul!--I have no time for particulars, your servant beinggone off. But if I had, we are not yet come to the bottom of the matter.The ladies here are all blubbering like devills, accusing one anothermost confoundedly: whilst Belton and I damn them all together in thyname.

  If thou shouldst hear that thy fellow Will. is taken dead out of somehorse-pond, and Dorcas cut down from her bed's teaster, from danglingin her own garters, be not surprised. Here's the devil to pay. Nobodyserene but Jack Belford, who is taking minutes of examinations,accusations, and confessions, with the significant air of a MiddlesexJustice; and intends to write at large all particulars, I suppose.

  I heartily condole with thee: so does Belton. But it may turn out forthe best: for she is gone away with thy marks, I understand. A foolishlittle devill! Where will she mend herself? for nobody will look uponher. And they tell me that thou wouldst certainly have married her, hadshe staid. But I know thee better.

  Dear Bobby, adieu. If Lord M. will die now, to comfort thee for thisloss, what a seasonable exit would he make! Let's have a letter fromthee. Pr'ythee do. Thou can'st write devill-like to Belford, who shewsus nothing at all. Thine heartily,

  RD. MOWBRAY.