ut, to consider where
she is.

I am confoundedly out of conceit with myself. If I give up my
contrivances, my joy in stratagem, and plot, and invention, I shall be
but a common man; such another dull heavy creature as thyself. Yet what
does even my success in my machinations bring me but regret, disgrace,
repentance? But I am overmatched, egregiously overmatched, by this
woman. What to do with her, or without her, I know not.

LETTER XX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

I have this moment intelligence from Simon Parsons, one of Lord M.'s
stewards, that his Lordship is very ill. Simon, who is my obsequious
servant, in virtue of my presumptive heirship, gives me a hint in his
letter, that my presence at M. Hall will not be amiss. So I must
accelerate, whatever be the course I shall be allowed or compelled to
take.

No bad prospects for this charming creature, if the old peer would be so
kind as to surrender; and many a summons has this gout given him. A good
8000L. a-year, and perhaps the title reversionary, or a still higher,
would help me up with her.

Proudly as this lady pretends to be above all pride, grandeur will have
its charms with her; for grandeur always makes a man's face shine in a
woman's eye. I have a pretty good, because a clear, estate, as it is.
But what a noble variety of mischief will 8000L. a-year, enable a man to
do?

Perhaps thou'lt say, I do already all that comes into my head; but that's
a mistake--not one half I will assure thee. And even good folks, as I
have heard, love to have the power of doing mischief, whether they make
use of it or not. The late Queen Anne, who was a very good woman, was
always fond of prerogative. And her ministers, in her name, in more
instances than one, made a ministerial use of this her foible.

***

But now, at last, am I to be admitted to the presence of my angry
fair-one; after three denials, nevertheless; and a peremptory from me, by
Dorcas, that I must see her in her chamber, if I cannot see her in the
dining-room.

Dorcas, however, tells me that she says, if she were at her own liberty,
she would never see me more; and that she had been asking after the
characters and conditions of the neighbours. I suppose, now she has
found her voice, to call out for help from them, if there were any to
hear her.

She will have it now, it seems, that I had the wickedness from the very
beginning, to contrive, for her ruin, a house so co