fection of a person that is dear to me, whose kindness I shall
infinitely prefer before any other consideration whatsoever, and I shall
not blush to tell you that you have made the whole world beside so
indifferent to me that, if I cannot be yours, they may dispose of me how
they please. Henry Cromwell will be as acceptable to me as any one else.
If I may undertake to counsel, I think you shall do well to comply with
your father as far as possible, and not to discover any aversion to what
he desires further than you can give reason for. What his disposition
may be I know not; but 'tis that of many parents to judge their
children's dislikes to be an humour of approving nothing that is chosen
for them, which many times makes them take up another of denying their
children all they choose for themselves. I find I am in the humour of
talking wisely if my paper would give me leave. 'Tis great pity here is
room for no more but--

Your faithful friend and servant.

_Letter 12._

SIR,--There shall be two posts this week, for my brother sends his groom
up, and I am resolved to make some advantage of it. Pray, what the paper
denied me in your last, let me receive by him. Your fellow-servant is a
sweet jewel to tell tales of me. The truth is, I cannot deny but that I
have been very careless of myself, but, alas! who would have been other?
I never thought my life worth my care whilst nobody was concerned in't
but myself; now I shall look upon't as something that you would not
lose, and therefore shall endeavour to keep it for you. But then you
must return my kindness with the same care of a life that's much dearer
to me. I shall not be so unreasonable as to desire that, for my
satisfaction, you should deny yourself a recreation that is pleasing to
you, and very innocent, sure, when 'tis not used in excess, but I cannot
consent you should disorder yourself with it, and Jane was certainly in
the right when she told you I would have chid if I had seen you so
endanger a health that I am so much concerned in. But for what she tell
you of my melancholy you must not believe; she thinks nobody in good
humour unless they laugh perpetually, as Nan and she does, which I was
never given to much, and now I have been so long accustomed to my own
natural dull humour that nothing can alter it. 'Tis not that I am sad
(for as long as you and the rest of my friends are well), I thank God I
have no occasion to be so, but I never appear to be very