est, is
the more proper word.

There is a pleasure, 'tis true, in subduing one of these watchful
beauties. But by my soul, Belford, men of our cast take twenty times the
pains to be rogues than it would cost them to be honest; and dearly, with
the sweat of our brows, and to the puzzlement of our brains, (to say
nothing of the hazards he run,) do we earn our purchase; and ought not
therefore to be grudged our success when we meet with it--especially as,
when we have obtained our end, satiety soon follows; and leaves us little
or nothing to show for it. But this, indeed, may be said of all worldly
delights.--And is not that a grave reflection from me?

I was willing to write up to the time. Although I have not carried my
principal point, I shall make something turn out if my favour from
Captain Tomlinson's errand. But let me give thee this caution; that thou
do not pretend to judge of my devices by parts; but have patience till
thou seest the whole. But once more I swear, that I will not be
out-Norris'd by a pair of novices. And yet I am very apprehensive, at
times, of the consequences of Miss Howe's smuggling scheme.

My conscience, I should think, ought not to reproach me for a
contrivance, which is justified by the contrivances of two such girls as
these: one of whom (the more excellent of the two) I have always, with
her own approbation, as I imagine, proposed for my imitation.

But here, Jack, is the thing that concludes me, and cases my heart with
adamant: I find, by Miss Howe's letters, that it is owing to her, that I
have made no greater progress with my blooming fair-one. She loves me.
The ipecacuanha contrivance convinces me that she loves me. Where there
is love there must be confidence, or a desire of having reason to
confide. Generosity, founded on my supposed generosity, has taken hold
of her heart. Shall I not now see (since I must forever be unhappy, if I
marry her, and leave any trial unessayed) what I can make of her love,
and her newly-raised confidence?--Will it not be to my glory to succeed?
And to her's and to the honour of her sex, if I cannot?--Where then will
be the hurt to either, to make the trial? And cannot I, as I have often
said,
reward her when I will by marriage?

'Tis late, or rather early; for the day begins to dawn upon me. I am
plaguy heavy. Perhaps I need not to have told thee that. But will only
indulge a doze in my chair for an hour; then shake myself, wash and
r