ve been cured of your
jealousy. Never believe I have a servant that I do not tell you of as
soon as I know it myself. As, for example, my brother Peyton has sent to
me, for a countryman of his, Sir John Tufton,--he married one of my Lady
Wotton's heirs, who is lately dead,--and to invite me to think of it.
Besides his person and his fortune, without exception, he tells me what
an excellent husband he was to this lady that's dead, who was but a
crooked, ill-favoured woman, only she brought him L1500 a year. I tell
him I believe, Sir John Tufton could be content, I were so too upon the
same terms. But his loving his first wife can be no argument to persuade
me; for if he had loved her as he ought to do, I cannot hope he should
love another so well as I expect anybody should that has me; and if he
did not love her, I have less to expect he should me. I do not care for
a divided heart; I must have all or none, at least the first place in
it. Poor James, I have broke his. He says 'twould pity you to hear what
sad complaints he makes; and, but that he has not the heart to hang
himself, he would be very well contented to be out of the world.

That house of your cousin R---- is fatal to physicians. Dr. Smith that
took it is dead already; but maybe this was before you went, and so is
no news to you. I shall be sending you all I hear; which, though it
cannot be much, living as I do, yet it may be more than ventures into
Ireland. I would have you diverted, whilst you are there, as much as
possible; but not enough to tempt you to stay one minute longer than
your father and your business obliges you. Alas! I have already repented
all my share in your journey, and begin to find I am not half so valiant
as I sometimes take myself to be. The knowledge that our interests are
the same, and that I shall be happy or unfortunate in your person as
much or more than in my own, does not give me that confidence you speak
of. It rather increases my doubts, and I durst trust your fortune alone,
rather than now that mine is joined with it. Yet I will hope yours may
be so good as to overcome the ill of mine, and shall endeavour to mend
my own all I can by striving to deserve it, maybe, better. My dearest,
will you pardon me that I am forced to leave you so soon? The next shall
be longer, though I can never be more than I am

Yours.

_Letter 55._--This sad letter, fully dated 18th March 1654, was written
after Sir Peter Osborne was buried in Cam