Wedn. Night, Oct. 4

My Lord,

I am just returned from attending Mr. Lovelace as far as Gad’s-Hill, near Rochester. He was exceeding gay all the way. Mowbray and Tourville are gone on with him. They will see him embark, and under sail; and promise to follow him in a month or two; for they say, there is no living without him, now he is once more himself.

He and I parted with great and even solemn tokens of affection; but yet not without gay intermixtures, as I will acquaint your Lordship.

Taking me aside, and clasping his arms about me, “Adieu, dear Belford!” said he: “may you proceed in the course you have entered upon!⁠—Whatever airs I give myself, this charming creature has fast hold of me here⁠—(clapping his hand upon his heart): and I must either appear what you see me, or be what I so lately was⁠—O the divine creature!” lifting up his eyes⁠—

“But if I live to come to England, and you remain fixed in your present way, and can give me encouragement, I hope rather to follow your example, than to ridicule you for it. This will (for I had given him a copy of it) I will make the companion of my solitary hours. You have told me a part of its melancholy contents; and that, and her posthumous letter, shall be my study; and they will prepare me for being your disciple, if you hold on.

“You, Jack, may marry,” continued he; “and I have a wife in my eye for you.⁠—Only thou’rt such an awkward mortal:” (he saw me affected, and thought to make me smile): “but we don’t make ourselves, except it be worse by our dress. Thou art in mourning now, as well as I: but if ever thy ridiculous turn lead thee again to be beau-brocade, I will bedizen thee, as the girls say, on my return, to my own fancy, and according to thy own natural appearance⁠—Thou shalt doctor my soul, and I will doctor thy body: thou shalt see what a clever fellow I will make of thee.

“As for me, I never will, I never can, marry⁠—that I will not take a few liberties, and that I will not try to start some of my former game, I won’t promise⁠—habits are not so easily shaken off⁠—but they shall be by way of wearing. So return and reform shall go together.

“And now, thou sorrowful monkey, what aileth thee?” I do love him, my Lord.

“Adieu!⁠—And once more adieu!”⁠—embracing me. “And when thou thinkest thou hast made thyself an interest out yonder (looking up) then put in a word for thy Lovelace.”

Joining company, he recommended to me to write often; and promised to let me hear quickly from him; and that he would write to your Lordship, and to all his family round; for he said, that you had all been more kind to him than he had deserved.

And so we parted.

I hope, my Lord, for all your noble family’s sake, that we shall see him soon return, and reform, as he promises.

I return your Lordship my humble thanks for the honour of your invitation to M. Hall. The first letter I receive from Mr. Lovelace shall give me the opportunity of embracing it. I am, my Lord,