From the same.

Diversions of Vaux-hall described.

Honoured Madam,

I went on Monday last to Vaux-hall Gardens; whither every body must go, or appear a sort of Monster in polite Company. For the Convenience of Waterage, as well as of Conversation, we were a pretty large Company, and the Evening proved serene and clear.

The Passage from Somerset Stairs, where we took Water, was pleasant enough; the Thames at High-water being a most beautiful River, especially above Westminster, where the green Banks, and the open Country, afford a very agreeable Prospect. The Place we landed at was crouded with Boats, and from the Water-side to the Gardens, we walked through a double Line of gaping Watermen, Footmen, old Beggar-women and Children. As soon as we entered the Walks, I was pleased with a sort of Stage, or Scaffold, raised at the Entrance, for the Servants of the Company to sit out of their Masters way, and yet within Call of the Waiters.

The Musick-gallery and Organ look perfectly polite, and their being raised one Story from the Ground, has a good Effect upon the Musick. The Walks are well enough, but environ’d with paltry wooden Boards, where I expected at least a good Brick-wall. One Part of the Whole is thrown into Walks only; the other is on the Sides filled with Seats or Arbours, with painted Backs; on each of which is represented some Scene of our most common Plays, or the youthful Representation of the Infant Games, &c. I happened to have at my Back honest Hob, come dripping wet out of the Well; and the young Fellows, under Colour of shewing their Taste in observing the Beauties of the Piece, were so perpetually staring in our Faces, that Cousin Bet and I had little Pleasure in our Supper. Perhaps you will wonder at our Supping in so open a Place; but, I assure you, Madam, no Lady is too tender for so fashionable a Repast. My Uncle treated us very chearfully; but I could not help grudging the Expence he was at; for when the Reckoning was paid, it amounted to no less than Ten Shillings a Head;which I think too dear, as the Entrance-money must be sufficient to defray the House and Musick.

To a Country Correspondent, modestly requesting a Balance of Accounts between them.

SIR,

I Find myself constrained by a present Exigence, to beg you to balance the Account between us. Tho’ Matters have run into some Length, yet would I not have apply’d to you, had I known so well how to answer my pressing Occasions any other way. If it suits you not to pay the Whole, I beg, Sir, you will remit me as much towards it as you can, without Prejudice to your other Affairs, and it will extremely oblige

Your most humble Servant.

In Answer to the preceding.

Dear Sir,

I now experience fully the Truth of the honest English Phrase, That a Friend in Need, is a Friend in Deed. You have filled me with such unspeakable Comfort to find that I am not abandoned by all my old Acquaintance, that, in a great measure, your seasonable Kindness will enable me to pursue the Advice you give me.

It is too late to look back now on the Steps that have brought me to this abject Condition. No doubt, were I to live my Life over again, I could do much better for myself than I have done, and should hardly run into some of the Failings that have help’d to bring such heavy Misfortunes upon me. But my Comfort is, I ever had an honest Intention, and never was a Sot or a Spendthrift. But yet, who knows, if I had avoided some Mistakes, that I might not have fallen into as bad another way? So I must acquiesce in the Dispensation, and pray to God, in his own good Time, to deliver me from it.

What is most grievous to me in this Matter, is my poor Wife and Children, who have deserved a happier Fate; had it been in my Power to have done better for them, than now I am ever likely to do.

As to your kind Offer, my dear Friend, I will beg to see you as often as may not be detrimental to your own Affairs. I care not how seldom I see my dear Wife: Neither her Heart nor mine can bear the Grief that oppresses us when we think of our happier Days and Prospects, and see them all concluded within these Bars, and Bolts, and Lattices; so that we sink one another still lower every doleful Visit the dear good Woman makes me. But your Visits, my Friend, will be of singular Use and Comfort to me, (as your Presence and kind Advice will be to her, as often as you can) to save us both the Mortification of seeing one another so often as my Affairs will otherwise require her to come to this dismal Place; for I cannot open my Mind to any body but you and her.

A young Woman in Town to her Sister in the Country, recounting her narrow Escape from a Snare laid for her on her first Arrival, by a wicked Procuress.

Dear Sister,

We have often, by our good Mother, been warned against the Dangers that would too probably attend us on coming to London;tho’ I must own, her Admonitions had not always the Weight I am now convinced they deserved.

I have had a Deliverance from such a Snare, as I never could have believed would have been laid for a Person free from all Thought of Ill, or been so near succeeding upon one so strongly on her Guard as I imagined myself: And thus, my dear Sister, the Matter happened:

Returning, on Tuesday, from seeing my Cousin Atkins, in Cheapside, I was over-taken by an elderly Gentlewoman of a sober and creditable Appearance, who walked by my Side some little time before she spoke to me; and then guessing, (by my asking the Name of the Street) that I was a Stranger to the Town, she very courteously began a Discourse with me, and after some other Talk, and Questions about my Country, and the like, desired to know if I did not come to Town with a Design of going into some genteel Place? I told her, If I could meet with a Place to my Mind, to wait upon a single Lady, I should be very willing to embrace it. She said, I look’d like a creditable, sober and modest Body, and at that very time she knew one of the best Gentlewomen that ever lived, who was in great Want of a Maid to attend upon her own Person, and that if she liked me, and I her, it would be a lucky Incident for us both.

I expressed myself thankfully, and she was so very much in my Interest, as to intreat me to go instantly to the Lady, lest she should be provided, and acquaint her I was recommended by Mrs. Jones, not doubting, as she said, but, on Inquiry, my Character would answer my Appearance.

The Friend's Answer, supposing he has no Occasion.

Dear Sir,

A thousand Thanks to you for your generous Offer, and kind Advice. I have been not a little affected at the unexpected Failure of a Man all the World thought as good as the Bank. But, at present, I have no Occasion for your friendly Assistance. If I should, I know no one

in the World I would sooner chuse to be obliged to; for I am, dear, kind Sir,

Your most obliged humble Servant.

On the same Subject.

SIR,

It is with no little Pain, that I am obliged to lay open to you, on occasion of the Loan you request of me, my own Inability. I shall make very hard

Shift to answer some necessary Demands, which must be comply’d with by a certain Time; and so can only say, I am sorry I have it not in my Power to shew you how sincerely I am

Your most humble Servant.

To a young Man too soon Keeping a Horse.

Dear Tom,

I always take great Pleasure in hearing of your Welfare, and of every thing that makes for your Satisfaction and Comfort: But give me Leave to say, That I am sorry to hear you have so early begun to keep a Horse, especially as your Business is altogether in your Shop, and you have no End to serve in riding out; and are, besides, young and healthy, and so cannot require it, as Exercise. And is it worth while, think you, to keep a Horse the whole Week, that you may have him at hand on a Sunday Morning, if the Day proves fair, and you have nothing to keep you in Town?

You must consider, that tho’ here, in the Country, many common Tradesmen keep Horses, the Expence is but small to them, and the Distance of one Customer from another, in a manner obliges them to it. But this can be no Plea for you: And if you do not want a Horse for Exercise, you can only alledge the worst Reason in the World for your maintaining one; that your Neighbours all round you do the same: For, look who they are, and what their Motives, and you’ll soon see the Difference, and that their Example will not justify you. Mr. Thompson, for Instance, who lives next Door to you, is near Sixty Years of Age, of a pretty gross Constitution, and capable of no other Exercise; and moreover he had acquired, by Length of Time, and Industry, an ample Fortune, before he gave himself this Diversion. Mr. Jenkins has an Estate fallen to him, that sets him above the Want of Trade; and his continuing in it, is rather an Amusement than an Employment.Mr. Jackson, Mr. West, Mr. Trozier, and Mr. Kent, are all Men of established Fortunes; and when you are as old as the youngest of them, and can as well afford it, I would be far from dissuading you from keeping a Horse. But at present, you may depend upon it, you rather incur their Contempt, than gain their Esteem, by offering to appear their Equal, when they and you well know, in what relates to Expences, you ought not to be so, nor have you had a Time for it.

Of Expostulation from a grave Friend to a young Man, on his slighting and irreverent Behaviour to his Father.

Dear Sir,

I take the Freedom of a brief Expostulation with you on your Behaviour to your Father; and I hope you will receive it from me, with the same Good-will, that I mean it.

His Indulgence to you formerly, certainly claims better Returns on your Part, altho’ it should be allow’d, as you fondly imagine, that his Affection to you is alienated. There may be something of Petulancy in him, which you ought to bear with; for one time or other you may be convinced by Experience, that Age itself has its insuperable Afflictions, that require the Allowance of every one; and more particularly of such who hope to live a long Life themselves, and still more particularly of a Son, whose high Passions, require, perhaps, at least as much Allowance. He may be petulant; but are you not fiery and impetuous? And I would fain know, whether you ought to bear with him, or he with you?

’Tis a very groundless Surmise to think his Affections are alienated from you. A Father must love his Son. He cannot help it. And is it credible even to yourself, on cool Reflexion, that the same good Man who was wont to be delighted with your childish Vanities and Foibles, (for we have all had them more or less) and even indulged and perhaps cherished those youthful Frowardnesses, that might be called the Seeds of those Passions, which now, being sprung up, give him so much Disturbance, and make you so impatient of Contradiction: Can you, I say, believe that this same good Man, without Reason, without Provocation, can change that Love into Hate?

You are grown to Man's Estate, and tho’ far from the ungracious Sons, that we have seen in the World, yet ought not to be so partial to yourself, as to believe you are wholly faultless. Examine your own Conduct then, and altho’ you should not be able to charge your Intention with any Blame, yet you must leave your Behaviour to be judg’d by others; and ‘twill perhaps be given against you, that some Slight, some Negligence, some Inattention, if not worse, too cutting for a Father's Cares and Fondness to support, has escaped you.

In Answer to the preceding.

SIR,

Imust acknowledge I have not used youwell, and can give no better Answer to your just Expostulations, than to send you the inclosed Draught for 50 l. which you will be pleased to carry to my Credit; and to assure you of more punctual Treatment for the future. Your Letter is no bad Lesson to me; I have conn’d it often, and hope I shall improve by it. I am ready to give you my Bond for the Remainder, which I will keep paying every Month something till ‘tis all discharged; and what I write to you for, in the Interim, shall be paid for on Receipt of the Goods. This, I hope, Sir, will satisfy you for the present. If I could do better, I would; but shall be streighten’d to do this: But I think, in Return for your Patience, I cannot do less, to convince you, that I am now, at last, in Earnest. I beg you’ll continue to me the same good Usage and Service I have met with from you hitherto. And that you’ll believe me to be, unfeignedly,

Your obliged humble Servant.

A more pressing and angry Letter from a City Dealer on the same Account.

Mr. Barret,

I am sorry your ill Usage constrains me to write to you in the most pressing manner. Can you think it is possible to carry on Business after the manner you act by me? You know what Promises you have made me, and how from time to time you have broke them. And can I depend upon any new ones you make? If you use others as you do me, how can you think of carrying on Business? If you do not, what must I think of a Man who deals worse with me, than he does with any body else?—If you think you may trespass more upon me, than you can on others, this is a very bad Compliment to my Prudence, or your own Gratitude. For surely good Usage should be intitled to good Usage. I know how to allow for Disappointments as well as any Man; but can a Man be disappointed for ever? Trade is so dependent a thing, you know, that it cannot be carried on without mutual Punctuality. Does not the Merchant expect it from me, for those very Goods I send you? And can I make a Return to him, without receiving it from you? What End can it answer to give you Two Years Credit, and then be at an Uncertainty, for Goods which I sell at a small Profit, and have not Six Months Credit for myself? Indeed, Sir, this will never do. I must be more punctually used by you, or else must deal as little punctually with others; and what then must be the Consequence?—In short, Sir, I expect a handsome Payment by the next Return, and Security for the Remainder; and shall be very loth to take any harsh Methods to procure this Justice to myself, my Family, and my own Creditors. For I am, if it be not your own Fault,

Your faithful Friend and Servant.

To a Friend, on Occasion of his not answering his Letters.

Dear Sir,

It is so long since I had the Favour of a Line from you, that I am under great Apprehensions in relation to your Health and Welfare. I beg you, Sir, to renew to me the Pleasure you used to give me in your Correspondence; for I have written three Letters to you before this, to which I have had no Answer, and am not conscious of having any way disobliged you. If I have, I will most willingly ask your Pardon; for nobody can be more than I am,

Your affectionate and faithful Friend and Servant.

To a Person of Note, in Acknowledgment of great Benefits received.

Honoured Sir,

Permit me to approach you with the thankful Acknowledgments of a grateful Heart, on the Favour and Benefit your Goodness has conferred upon me. It shall be the Business of my whole Life, to the utmost of my Power, to deserve it; and my whole Family, which you have made happy by your Bounty, will every Day join with me in Prayers to God, to bless you with the Continuance of your valuable Health, a long Life, and all worldly Honour; for so it will become us to do, for the unmerited Favours conferr’d upon, honoured Sir,

Your most dutiful Servant.

From the same.

Containing the Description of the Behaviour of the same Gentleman; which occasions a Love-quarrel.

Honoured Aunt,

I hope, the Suspense I gave you by my abrupt breaking off in my last, will be forgiven. I was going to give you an Instance of Mr. Rushford's grave Airs. He comes last Thursday with great Formality, and calls himself my humble Servant; and I saw he was pleased to be displeased at something, and so look’d as grave as he, only bowing my Head, and following my Work; for I was hemming a Handkerchief. You are very busy, Madam1— Yes, Sir——Perhaps I break in upon you——Not much, Sir——I am sorry if I do at all, Madam——You see I am pursuing my Work, as I was before you came.——I do, Madam!—very gravely, said he—But I have known it otherwise, when Somebody else has been here——Very likely, Sir!—But then I did as I pleased—so I do now—and who shall controul me?——I beg pardon, Madam; but ‘tis my Value for you——That makes you troublesome, said I, interrupting him.———I am sorry for it, Madam!——Your humble Servant.——Yours, Sir.—So away he went.—Well, thought I, if thou art to be lost for this, and must put me into bodily Fear, every time thou hast a Mind to be grave, Adieu to thee!

In the Evening he comes again——Mrs. Betty, Is your Lady disingaged? Could I be admitted to say one Word to her? I believe so, Sir. Madam, Mr. Rushford begs to be admitted to say one Word to you. He was at the Door, and heard me, as I know. Do you introduce him, said I, (with as much Form as he) to my Presence. He enter’d. I rose up, with my Hands before me——I see you are angry with me, Madam.——I am sorry for it, Sir, said I. Sorry for your Anger, I hope, Madam?—I should be sorry, Sir, said I, if any body should see me angry for nothing.——I am sorry, Madam, that you set as nothing one that has so much Value for you.

The Cambridge Edition of the Works of Samuel Richardson is the first fully annotated scholarly edition of Richardson's works, including his securely attributable minor works, ever to have been undertaken. Five substantial collected editions have been published before now: The Works of Samuel Richardson, with an introduction by Edward Mangin (19 volumes, 1811); The Works of Samuel Richardson, with an introduction by Leslie Stephen (12 volumes, 1883); The Novels of Samuel Richardson, with an introduction by William Lyon Phelps (19 volumes, 1901–2); The Novels of Samuel Richardson, with an introduction by Ethel M. McKenna (20 volumes, 1902); and finally The Novels of Samuel Richardson (18 volumes, 1929– 31). None of these editions, however, contains any explanatory or textual apparatus, and none contains any of Richardson's writings beside his three major novels.

In the absence of any scholarly alternative, the last of these collected editions, the Shakespeare Head edition, has passed as standard for almost a century, though with no visible credentials for doing so. It is attractively printed, on fine paper, but suffers from several obvious shortcomings. First, it is extremely scarce; only five hundred copies were issued, many to individual subscribers, and few libraries possess copies. Second, it was anonymously edited, and a brief note on the text is ambiguous; to what extent, and if so on what principles, the text was modernised or corrected remains unclear. Third, the choice of copy-text for the novels, Richardson's octavo edition in each case, is highly questionable. A compulsive reviser and, unusually, his own printer, with complete and direct control over the production process, Richardson changed the texts of his novels with each edition that he printed. He issued one edition of each novel in octavo, in contrast to the smaller duodecimo size normally used. Intended for wealthier buyers, the octavo editions were printed on better paper, with more generous margins and leading, and, in the case of Pamela, with twenty-nine engravings by two of the foremost book-illustrators of the day. The octavo editions, however, represented a stage in the process of revision that was intermediate and in some respect tangential to the genealogy of the text: in the case of all three novels, Richardson went on to make extensive further changes, working from the previous duodecimo edition and losing many of the octavo revisions as he did so.

When there are so many Editions of Æsop's Fables, it will be expected, that some Reasons should be given for the Appearance of a new one; and we shall be as brief on this Head, as the Nature of the Thing will admit.Of all the English Editions, we shall consider only two, as worthy of Notice; to wit, That of the celebrated Sir Roger Lestrange, and that which appears under the Name of S. Croxal, subscribed to the Dedication. And when we have given an Account of what each says for his own Performance, it will be our Turn to offer some things to the Reader with regard to our present Undertaking.

‘When first I put Pen to Paper upon this Design, says Sir Roger, I had in my Eye only the common School Book, as it stands in the Cambridge and Oxford Editions of it, under the Title of Æsopi Phrygis Fabulæ; una cum nonnullis variorum Auctorum Fabulis adjectis: Propounding to myself at that Time, to follow the very Course and Series of that Collection; and in one Word, to try what might be done by making the best of the Whole, and adapting proper and useful Doctrines to the several Parts of it, toward the turning of an excellent Latin Manual of Morals and good Counsels, into a tolerable English one. But upon jumbling Matters and Thoughts together, and laying one Thing by another, the very State and Condition of the Case before me, together with the Nature and the Reason of the Thing, gave me to understand, that this Way of proceeding would never answer my End: Insomuch that, upon this Consideration, I consulted other Versions of the same Fables, and made my best of the Choice. Some that were twice or thrice over, and only the self-same Thing in other Words; these I struck out, and made one Specimen serve for the rest. To say nothing of here and there a trivial, or a loose Conceit in the Medly, more than this; that such as they are, I was under some sort of Obligation to take them in for Company; and in short, good, bad, and indifferent, one with another, to the Number, in the Total, of 383 Fables.

The same Subject pursued.

My dear Son,

By my former you will see, that hard Drinking is a Vice, that breaks a Man's Rest, impairs the Understanding, extinguishes the Memory, inflames the Passions, debauches the Will, lays the Foundation of the worst and most dangerous Distempers, incapacitates a Person from pursuing his Studies, and from applying to the Duties of his Calling, be it what it will; begets Contempt from the World; and even if a Man's Circumstances were above feeling the Expence, which can hardly be, alters and changes the Practiser of it from himself; and if he is not above feeling it, often reduces him to Want and Beggary: And if he has a Family, his Children, who by their Father's Industry and Sobriety might have made a creditable Figure in Life, are left to the Mercy of the World, become the Outcasts of the Earth; possibly Foot-soldiers, Livery-servants, Shoe-cleaners, Link-boys, and, perhaps, Pickpockets, Highwaymen, or Footpads; and instead of a comfortable Livelihood, and a Station above Contempt, are intitled only to Shame, Misery, and the Gallows.

And do you judge, my Son, how a Man can answer this Conduct to God, to his Parents and other Relations, to his Wife, to his Children, to himself, and persist in a barbarous and an unnatural Vice, which makes himself not only miserable and contemptible, but transmits the Mischief to his unhappy and innocent Children, if he has any.

Add to all this, That it is a Vice a Man cannot easily master and subdue; or which, like some others, may be cured by Age; but it is a Vice that feeds and nourishes itself by Practice, and grows upon a Man as he lives longer in the World, till at last, if it cuts him not off in the Flower of his Days, his Body expects and requires Liquor: And so, tho’ a Man, when he enters upon it, may be single, yet if he ever should marry, it may be attended with all the frightful and deplorable Consequences I have mentioned, and ruin besides an innocent and perhaps prudent Woman, rendering her, without her own Fault, the joint unhappy Cause of adding to the Number of the miserable and profligate Children, with which the World too much abounds, and which is owing to nothing so much as this detestable Sin in the Parents.

From a tender Father to an ungracious Son.

Son John,

I am under no small Concern, that your continued ill Courses give me Occasion to write this Letter to you. I was in hopes, that your solemn Promises of Amendment might have been better depended on; but I see, to my great Mortification, that all I have done for you, and all I have said to you, is thrown away. What can I say more than I have said? Yet, once more am I desirous to try what the Force of a Letter will do with one who has not suffer’d mere Words to have any Effect upon him. Perhaps this remaining with you, if you will now and then seriously peruse it, may, in some happy Moment, give you Reflection, and by God's Grace, bring on your Repentance and Amendment.

Consider then, I beseech you, in time, the Evil of your Ways. Make my Case your own; and think, if you were to be Father of such a Son, how his Actions would grieve and afflict you.But if my Comfort has no Weightwith you, consider, my Son, how your present Courses must impair, in time, a good Constitution, destroy your Health, and, most probably, shorten your Life. Consider that your Reputation is wounded, I hope, not mortally, as yet. That you will be ranked among the Profligate and Outcasts of the World; that no virtuous Man will keep you Company; that every one who has a Regard for his own Credit will shun you; and that you will be given up to the Society of the worst and most abandon’d of Men, when you might be improved by the Examples of the Best. That no Family which values their own Honour, and the Welfare of their Child, will suffer your Addresses to a Daughter worthy of being sought after for a Wife, should you incline to marry; and that the worst of that Sex must probably, in that Case, fall to your Lot, which will make you miserable in this World, when you might be happy.

From a Father to a Daughter against a frothy, French Lover.

Dear Polly,

I cannot say I look upon Mr. La Farriere in the same favourable Light that you seem to do. His frothy Behaviour may divert well enough as an Acquaintance; but is very unanswerable, I think, to the Character of a Husband, especially an English Husband, which I take to be a graver Character than a French one. There is a Difference in these gay Gentlemen, while they strive to please, and when they expect to be obliged. In all Men this is too apparent: But in those of a light Turn it is more visible than in others. If after Marriage his present Temper should continue, when you are a careful Mother, he will look more like a Son than a Husband: If entering into the World should change his Disposition, expect no Medium; he will be the most insipid Mortal you can imagine; if his Spirits should be depressed by the Accidents of Life, he is such a Stranger to Reflection, (the best Counsellor of the Wise) that from thence he will be unable to draw Relief. And Adversity to such Men is the more intolerable, as their Deportment is suited only to the Smiles of Success.

He dances well; writes very indifferently:Is an Artist at Cards; but cannot cast Accounts: Understands all the Laws of Chance; but not one of the Land: Has shewn great Skill in the Improvement of his Person; yet none at all, that I hear, of his Estate: And tho’ he makes a good Figure in Company, has never yet studied the Art of living at Home: He sings well; but knows nothing of Business: He has long acted the Part of a Lover; but may not find the same Variety and Entertainment in acting the Husband: Is very gallant; but may not be over affectionate: And is so tender of himself, that he will have little Time to indulge any body else.

Against a Sudden Intimacy, or Friendship, with one of a short Acquaintance.

Cousin Tom,

I am just setting out for Windsor, and have not time to say so much as I would on the Occasion upon which I now write to you. I hear that Mr. Douglas and you have lately contracted such an Intimacy, that you are hardly ever asunder: and as I know his Morals are not the best, nor his Circumstances the most happy, I fear he will, if he has not already done it, let you see, that he better knows what he does in seeking your Acquaintance, than you do in cultivating his.

I am far from desiring to abridge you in any necessary or innocent Liberty, or to prescribe too much to your Choice of a Friend: Nor am I against your being complaisant to Strangers; for this Gentleman's Acquaintance is not yet a Month old with you; but you must not think every Man whose Conversation is agreeable, fit to be immediately treated as a Friend: Of all Sorts, hastily-contracted Friendships promise the least Duration or Satisfaction; as theymost commonly arise from Design on one Side, and Weakness on the other. True Friendship must be the Effect of long and mutual Esteem and Knowledge: It ought to have for its Cement, an Equality of Years, a Similitude of Manners, and, pretty much, a Parity in Circumstance and Degree. But, generally speaking, an Openness to a Stranger carries with it strong Marks of Indiscretion, and not seldom ends in Repentance.

For these Reasons, I would be glad you would be upon your Guard, and proceed cautiously in this new Alliance.Mr. Douglas has Vivacity and Humour enough to please any Man of a light Turn; but were I to give my Judgment of him, I should pronounce him fitter for the Tea-table, than the Cabinet. He is smart, but very superficial; and treats all serious Subjects with a Contempt too natural to bad Minds; and I know more young Men than one, of whose good Opinion he has taken Advantage, and has made them wiser, though at their own Expence, than he found them.

The Aunt's Answer, supposing the Gentleman deserves Encouragement.

SIR,

I cannot say I have any Dislike, as to my own part, to your Proposal, or your Manner of making it, whatever my Niece may have: because Diffidence is generally the Companion of Merit, and a Token of Respect: She is a Person of Prudence, and all her Friends are so throughly convinced of it, that her Choice will have the Weight it deserves with us all: So I cannot say, what will be the Event of your Declaration to her. Yet, so far as I may take upon myself to do, I will not deny your Request; but on her Return to me tomorrow will break the Ice as you desire, not doubting your Honour, and the Sincerity of your Professions; and I shall tell her moreover what I think of the Advances you make. I believe she has had the Prudence to keep her Heart intirely disengaged, because she would otherwise have told me: And is not so mean-spirited, as to be able to return Tyranny and Insult for true Value, when she is properly convinced of it. Whoever has the Happiness (permit me, tho’ her Relation, to call it so) to meet with her Favour, will find this her Character, and that it is not owing to the fond Partiality of, Sir,

Your Friend and Servant.