members himself.
And this that is going to follow, I am sure he has proved the truth of a
hundred times, That he who does what he will seldom does what he ought.
Nor is that unworthy of his notice, Young men's frolics old men feel. My
devilish gout, God help me--but I will not say what I was going to say.

I remember, that you yourself, complimenting me for my taste in pithy and
wise sentences, said a thing that gave me a high opinion of you; and it
was this: 'Men of talents,' said you, 'are sooner to be convinced by
short sentences than by long preachments, because the short sentences
drive themselves into the heart and stay there, while long discourses,
though ever so good, tire the attention; and one good thing drives out
another, and so on till all is forgotten.'

May your good counsel, Mr. Belford, founded upon these hints which I have
given, pierce his heart, and incite him to do what will be so happy for
himself, and so necessary for the honour of that admirable lady whom I
long to see his wife; and, if I may, I will not think of one for myself.

Should he abuse the confidence she has placed in him, I myself shall
pray, that vengeance may fall upon his head--Raro--I quite forget all my
Latin; but I think it is, Raro antecedentem scelestum deseruit pede paean
claudo: where vice goes before, vengeance (sooner or later) will follow.
But why do I translate these things for you?

I shall make no apologies for this trouble. I know how well you love him
and me; and there is nothing in which you could serve us both more
importantly, than in forwarding this match to the utmost of your power.
When it is done, how shall I rejoice to see you at M. Hall! Mean time, I
shall long to hear that you are likely to be successful with him; and am,

Dear Sir,
Your most faithful friend and servant,
M.

[Mr. Lovelace having not returned an answer to Mr. Belford's expostulary
letter so soon as Mr. Belford expected, he wrote to him, expressing
his apprehension that he had disobliged him by his honest freedom.
Among other things, he says--]

I pass my time here at Watford, attending my dying uncle, very heavily.
I cannot therefore, by any means, dispense with thy correspondence. And
why shouldst thou punish me, for having more conscience and more remorse
than thyself? Thou who never thoughtest either conscience or remorse an
honour to thee. And I have, besides, a melancholy story to tell thee, in
relation to Belto