s of
your wife's brother; he is a knave whom you ought not to hear to the
prejudice of the most tender and most faithful mistress that ever was.
Above all, do not allow yourself to be moved by that woman: her sham
tears are nothing in comparison with the real tears that I shed, and with
what love and constancy make me suffer at succeeding her; it is for that
alone that in spite of myself I betray all those who could cross my love.
God have mercy on me, and send you all the prosperity that a humble and
tender friend who awaits from you soon another reward wishes you. It is
very late; but it is always with regret that I lay down my pen when I
write to you; however, I shall not end my letter until I shall have
kissed your hands. Forgive me that it is so ill-written: perhaps I do so
expressly that you may be obliged to re-read it several times: I have
transcribed hastily what I had written down on my tablets, and my paper
has given out. Remember a tender friend, and write to her often: love me
as tenderly as I love you, and remember

"Madame de Rere's words;
The English;
His mother;
The Earl of Argyll;
The Earl of Bothwell;
The Edinburgh dwelling."

SECOND LETTER

"It seems that you have forgotten me during your absence, so much the
more that you had promised me, at setting out, to let me know in detail
everything fresh that should happen. The hope of receiving your news was
giving me almost as much delight as your return could have brought me:
you have put it off longer than you promised me. As for me, although you
do not write, I play my part always. I shall take him to Craigmiller on
Monday, and he will spend the whole of Wednesday there. On that day I
shall go to Edinburgh to be bled there, unless you arrange otherwise at
least. He is more cheerful than usual, and he is better than ever.

"He says everything he can to persuade me that he loves me; he has a
thousand attentions for me, and he anticipates me in everything: all that
is so pleasant for me, that I never go to him but the pain in my side
comes on again, his company weighs on me so much. If Paris brought me
what I asked him, I should be soon cured. If you have not yet returned
when I go you know where, write to me, I beg you, and tell me what you
wish me to do; for if you do not manage things prudently, I foresee that
the whole burden will fall on me: look into everything and weigh the
affair maturely. I send you