ge
thee.

My phaeton's ready. My cousins send me word they are just coming down:
so in spite I'll be gone.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON.

I did stay to dine with the Colonel, and his lady, and nieces: but I
could not pass the afternoon with them, for the heart of me. There was
enough in the persons and faces of the two young ladies to set me upon
comparisons. Particular features held my attention for a few moments:
but these served but to whet my impatience to find the charmer of my
soul; who, for person, for air, for mind, never had any equal. My heart
recoiled and sickened upon comparing minds and conversation. Pert wit, a
too-studied desire to please; each in high good humour with herself; an
open-mouth affectation in both, to show white teeth, as if the principal
excellence; and to invite amorous familiarity, by the promise of a sweet
breath; at the same time reflecting tacitly upon breaths arrogantly
implied to be less pure.

Once I could have borne them.

They seemed to be disappointed that I was so soon able to leave them.
Yet have I not at present so much vanity [my Clarissa has cured me of my
vanity] as to attribute their disappointment so much to particular liking
of me, as to their own self-admiration. They looked upon me as a
connoisseur in beauty. They would have been proud of engaging my
attention, as such: but so affected, so flimsy-witted, mere skin-deep
beauties!--They had looked no farther into themselves than what their
glasses were flattering-glasses too; for I thought them passive-faced,
and spiritless; with eyes, however, upon the hunt for conquests, and
bespeaking the attention of others, in order to countenance their own.
----I believe I could, with a little pains, have given them life and
soul, and to every feature of their faces sparkling information--but my
Clarissa!--O Belford, my Clarissa has made me eyeless and senseless to
every other beauty!--Do thou find her for me, as a subject worthy of my
pen, or this shall be the last from

Thy
LOVELACE.

LETTER V

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.
SUNDAY NIGHT, JULY 9.

Now, Jack, have I a subject with a vengeance. I am in the very height of
my trial for all my sins to my beloved fugitive. For here to-day, at
about five o'clock, arrived Lady Sarah Sadleir and Lady Betty Lawrance,
each in her chariot-and-six. Dowagers love equipage; and these cannot
travel ten miles without a sett, and half a dozen horsemen.

My time had