not been laid by the heels thus, like a
helpless miscreant.

But I grow better and better every hour, I say: the doctor says not: but
I am sure I know best: and I will soon be in London, depend on't. But
say nothing of this to my dear, cruel, and implacable Miss Harlowe.

A--dieu--u, Ja--aack--What a gaping puppy (yaw--n! yaw--n! yaw--n!)

Thy
LOVELACE.

LETTER VIII

MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.
MONDAY, AUG. 15.

I am extremely concerned for thy illness. I should be very sorry to lose
thee. Yet, if thou diest so soon, I could wish, from my soul, it had
been before the beginning of last April: and this as well for thy sake,
as for the sake of the most excellent woman in the world: for then thou
wouldst not have had the most crying sin of thy life to answer for.

I was told on Saturday that thou wert very much out of order; and this
made me forbear writing till I heard farther. Harry, on his return from
thee, confirmed the bad way thou art in. But I hope Lord M. in his
unmerited tenderness for thee, thinks the worst of thee. What can it be,
Bob.? A violent fever, they say; but attended with odd and severe
symptoms.

I will not trouble thee in the way thou art in, with what passes here
with Miss Harlowe. I wish thy repentance as swift as thy illness; and as
efficacious, if thou diest; for it is else to be feared, that she and you
will never meet in one place.

I told her how ill you are. Poor man! said she. Dangerously ill, say
you?

Dangerously indeed, Madam!--So Lord M. sends me word!

God be merciful to him, if he die!--said the admirable creature.--Then,
after a pause, Poor wretch!--may he meet with the mercy he has not shown!

I send this by a special messenger: for I am impatient to hear how it
goes with thee.--If I have received thy last letter, what melancholy
reflections will that last, so full of shocking levity, give to

Thy true friend,
JOHN BELFORD.

LETTER IX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
TUESDAY, AUG. 15.*

* Text error: should be Aug. 16.

Thank thee, Jack; most heartily I thank thee, for the sober conclusion of
thy last!--I have a good mind, for the sake of it, to forgive thy till
now absolutely unpardonable extracts.

But dost think I will lose such an angel, such a forgiving angel, as
this?--By my soul, I will not!--To pray for mercy for such an ungrateful
miscreant!--how she wounds me, how she cuts me to the soul, by her
exalted generos