"My Lord,
"I wish some good angel would instruct my pen to express something that would incline your Lordship to moderate your hate towards me that have loved you only too well, and would increase that slender portion of love you have for your own honour.
"Could your Lordship make cripples of my tongue and pen, by confining me to a jail, as well as my limbs, you might then hope for a conquest; but, my Lord, though I am perfectly lame, and have in a manner quite lost the use of my limbs, yet my pen will never lose its vigour, nor will my tongue be silent. How happy should I now esteem myself if I could say or do any thing that would make you reassume your former good-nature! but do not misconstrue me, my Lord; I mean only that part of your good-nature that would oblige you to do what is reasonable, 'and not to return to your embraces. Your Lordship must pardon me if I still am perfectly yours without desiring your conversation. I am the best-natured fool living, but it is not to that degree as to be a silent fool neither. I would willingly, if your Lordship pleases, take a little fresh air between this time and Michaelmas, and
