LETTER XCVII.
Mr. Lovelace, To John Belford, Esq;
Wedn. Morn. Sept. 6. half an hour after Three.
I am not the Savage which you and my worst enemies think me. My soul is too much penetrated by the contents of the Letter which you inclosed in your last, to say one word more to it, than that my heart has bled over it from every vein! ---I will fly from the subject---But what other can I chuse, that will not be as grievous, and lead into the same?
I could quarrel with all the world; with thee, as well as the rest; obliging as thou supposest thyself for
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writing to me hourly. How daredst thou (tho' unknown to her) to presume to take an apartment under the same roof with her? ---I cannot bear to think, that thou shouldst be seen at all hours passing to and repassing from her apartments, while I, who have so much reason to call her mine, and once was preferred by her to all the world, am forced to keep aloof, and hardly dare to enter the city where she is!
If there be any-thing in Brand's Letter that will divert me, hasten it to me. But nothing now will ever divert me, will ever again give me joy or pleasure! I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep. I am sick of all the world.
Surely it will be better when all is over---when I know the worst the fates can do against me---Yet how shall I bear that worst? ---O Belford, Belford! write it not to me; but, if it must happen, get somebody else to write; for I shall curse the pen, the hand, the head, and the heart, employed in communicating to me the fatal tidings. But what is this saying, when already I curse the whole world except her---Myself most?
In fine, I am a most miserable being. Life is a burden to me. I would not bear it upon these terms for one week more, let what would be my lot; for already is there a hell begun in my own mind. Never more mention to me, let her or who will say it, the prison---I cannot bear it---May damnation seize quick the accursed woman, who could set death upon taking that large stride, as the dear creature calls it! ---I had no hand in it! But her relations, her implacable relations, have done the business. All else would have been got over. Never persuade me but it would. The fire of youth, and the violence of passion, would have pleaded for me to good purpose, with an individual of a Sex, which loves to be addressed with passionate ardor, even to tumult, had it not been for that cruelty and unforgivingness, which
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(the object and the penitence considered) have no example, and have aggravated the heinousness of my faults.
Unable to rest, tho' I went not to bed till Two, I dispatch this ere the day-dawn---Who knows what this night, this dismal night, may have produced!
I must after my messenger. I have told the varlet I will meet him, perhaps at Knightsbridge, perhaps in Piccadilly; and I trust not myself with pistols, not only on his account, but my own: For pistols are too ready a mischief.
I hope thou hast a Letter ready for him. He goes to thy lodgings first: For surely thou wilt not presume to take thy rest in an apartment near hers. If he miss thee there, he flies to Smith's, and brings me word whether in being, or not.
I shall look for him thro' the air as I ride, as well as on horseback; for if the prince of it serve me, as well as I have served him, he will bring the dog by his ears, like another Habakkuk, to my saddle-bow, with the tidings that my heart pants after.
Nothing but the excruciating pangs the condemned soul feels, at its entrance into the eternity of the torments we are taught to fear, can exceed what I now feel, and have felt for almost this week past; and mayest thou have a spice of those, if thou hast not a Letter ready written for.
Thy Lovelace.