e to be loved. Would to God I had all that good-nature
you complain you have too much of, I could find ways enough to dispose
on't amongst myself and my friends; but 'tis well where it is, and I
should sooner wish you more on't than less.

I wonder with what confidence you can complain of my short letters that
are so guilty yourself in the same kind. I have not seen a letter this
month which has been above half a sheet. Never trust me if I write more
than you that live in a desolated country where you might finish a
romance of ten tomes before anybody interrupted you--I that live in a
house the most filled of any since the Ark, and where, I can assure
[you], one has hardly time for the most necessary occasions. Well, there
was never any one thing so much desired and apprehended at the same time
as your return is by me; it will certainly, I think, conclude me a very
happy or a most unfortunate person. Sometimes, methinks, I would fain
know my doom whatever it be; and at others, I dread it so extremely,
that I am confident the five Portugals and the three plotters which were
t'other day condemned by the High Court of Justice had not half my fears
upon them. I leave you to judge the constraint I live in, what alarms my
thoughts give me, and yet how unconcerned this company requires I should
be; they will have me at my part in a play, "The Lost Lady" it is, and I
am she. Pray God it be not an ill omen!

I shall lose my eyes and you this letter if I make it longer. Farewell.

I am, yours.

_Letter 67._--Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, was the daughter of James I.
She married the Elector Frederick, who was driven from his throne owing
to his own misconduct and folly, when his wife was forced to return and
live as a pensioner in her native country. She is said to have been
gifted in a superlative degree with all that is considered most lovely
in a woman's character. On her husband's death in 1632 she went to live
at the Hague, where she remained until the Restoration. There is a
report that she married William, Earl of Craven, but there is no proof
of this. He was, however, her friend and adviser through her years of
widowhood, and it was to his house in Drury Lane that she returned to
live in 1661. She is said to have been a lover of literature, and
Francis Quarles and Sir Henry Wotton were her intimate friends. The
latter has written some quaint and elegant verses to his mistress; the
last verse, in which he apostrophizes