Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition.

Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade,
and not a play-writer.

Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits.

Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder.

For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these,--what painful
pewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven or
eight and thutty years old--"in the morning of youth," as the flosofer
says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What,
you, an old hand amongst us,--an old soljer of our sovring quean the
press,--you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay,
and DESERVED them too!--I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, "I
AM a man of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says so"),--you to lose heart, and cry
pickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys fling stones at you!
Fie, man! take courage; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand,
as the poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man,
or bear your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such
misrabble lodgic as that above.

What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (the
secknd is naught,--for your no such chicking at play-writing, this being
the forth). You show that the play must be bad, and THEN begin to deal
with the critix for finding folt!

Was there ever wuss generalship? The play IS bad,--your right--a wuss I
never see or read. But why kneed YOU say so? If it was so VERY bad, why
publish it? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO SERVE THE DRAMA! O fie! don't lay that
flattering function to your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believe
that this "Sea Capting" can serve the drama? Did you never intend that
it should serve anything, or anybody ELSE? Of cors you did! You wrote it
for money,--money from the maniger, money from the bookseller,--for the
same reason that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very same
reasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Away
with this canting about great motifs! Let us not be too prowd, my dear
Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters or apostels.
We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and not for righteousness'
sake. Let's try and work honestly; but don't let us be prayting pompisly
about our "sacred calling." The taylor who makes your coats (and very
well they are made too, with the best of velvit collars)--I say S