LETTER XIIMR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.[IN ANSWER TO HIS OF AUG. 17. SEE LETTER X. OF THIS VOLUME.]SUNDAY, AUG. 20.
What an unmerciful fellow art thou! A man has no need of a conscience,who has such an impertinent monitor. But if Nic. Rowe wrote a play thatanswers not his title, am I to be reflected upon for that?--I havesinned; I repent; I would repair--she forgives my sin: she accepts myrepentance: but she won't let me repair--What wouldst thou have me do?
But get thee gone to Belton, as soon as thou canst. Yet whether thougoest or not, up I must go, and see what I can do with the sweet odditymyself. The moment these prescribing varlets will let me, dependupon it, I go. Nay, Lord M. thinks she ought to permit me one interview.His opinion has great authority with me--when it squares with my own: andI have assured him, and my two cousins, that I will behave with all thedecency and respect that man can behave with to the person whom he mostrespects. And so I will. Of this, if thou choosest not to go to Beltonmean time, thou shalt be witness.
Colonel Morden, thou hast heard me say, is a man of honour and bravery:--but Colonel Morden has had his girls, as well as you or I. And indeed,either openly or secretly, who has not? The devil always baits with apretty wench, when he angles for a man, be his age, rank, or degree, whatit will.
I have often heard my beloved speak of the Colonel with great distinctionand esteem. I wish he could make matters a little easier, for her mind'ssake, between the rest of the implacables and herself.
Methinks I am sorry for honest Belton. But a man cannot be ill, orvapourish, but thou liftest up thy shriek-owl note, and killest himimmediately. None but a fellow, who is for a drummer in death'sforlorn-hope, could take so much delight, as thou dost, in beating adead-march with thy goose-quills. Whereas, didst thou but know thine owntalents, thou art formed to give mirth by thy very appearance; andwouldst make a better figure by half, leading up thy brother-bears atHockley in the Hole, to the music of a Scot's bagpipe. Methinks I seethy clumsy sides shaking, (and shaking the sides of all beholders,) inthese attitudes; thy fat head archly beating time on thy porterlyshoulders, right and left by turns, as I once beheld thee practising tothe horn-pipe at Preston. Thou remembrest the frolick, as I have donean hundred times; for I never before saw thee appear so much incharacter.
But I know what I shall get by this--only that notable observationrepeated, That thy outside is the worst of thee, and mine the best of me.And so let it be. Nothing thou writest of this sort can I take amiss.
But I shall call thee seriously to account, when I see thee, for theextracts thou hast given the lady from my letters, notwithstanding what Isaid in my last; especially if she continue to refuse me. An hundredtimes have I myself known a woman deny, yet comply at last: but, by theseextracts, thou hast, I doubt, made her bar up the door of her heart, asshe used to do her chamber-door, against me.--This therefore is adisloyalty that friendship cannot bear, nor honour allow me to forgive.