rd M.'s style, that my wits may
not be sent a wool-gathering.

For, let me moreover own to thee, that Dr. Hale, who was my good Astolfo,
[you read Ariosto, Jack,] and has brought me back my wit-jar, had much
ado, by starving, diet, by profuse phlebotomy, by flaying-blisters,
eyelet-hole-cupping, a dark room, a midnight solitude in a midday sun, to
effect my recovery. And now, for my comfort, he tells me, that I may
still have returns upon full moons--horrible! most horrible!--and must be
as careful of myself at both equinoctials, as Caesar was warned to be of
the Ides of March.

How my heart sickens at looking back upon what I was! Denied the sun,
and all comfort: all my visiters low-born, tip-toe attendants: even those
tip-toe slaves never approaching me but periodically, armed with
gallipots, boluses, and cephalic draughts; delivering their orders to me
in hated whispers; and answering other curtain-holding impertinents,
inquiring how I was, and how I took their execrable potions, whisperingly
too! What a cursed still life was this!--Nothing active in me, or about
me, but the worm that never dies.

Again I hasten from the recollection of scenes, which will, at times,
obtrude themselves upon me.

Adieu, Belford!

But return me my last letter--and build nothing upon its contents. I
must, I will, I have already, overcome these fruitless gloominess. Every
hour my constitution rises stronger and stronger to befriend me; and,
except a tributary sigh now-and-then to the memory of my heart's beloved,
it gives me hope that I shall quickly be what I was--life, spirit,
gaiety, and once more the plague of a sex that has been my plague, and
will be every man's plague at one time or other of his life. I repeat my
desire, however, that you will write to me as usual. I hope you have
good store of particulars by you to communicate, when I can better bear
to hear of the dispositions that were made for all that was mortal of my
beloved Clarissa.

But it will be the joy of my heart to be told that her implacable friends
are plagued with remorse. Such things as those you may now send me: for
company in misery is some relief; especially when a man can think those
he hates as miserable as himself.

One more adieu, Jack!

LETTER XXXIX

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

I am preparing to leave this kingdom. Mowbray and Tourville promise to
give me their company in a month or two.

I'll give thee my route.

I