(In answer to his of Aug.17, Letter 413)

Sunday, Aug. 20

WHAT an unmerciful fellow art thou! A man has no need of a conscience who has such an impertinent monitor. But if Nick Rowe wrote a play that answers not his title, am I to be reflected upon for that?--I have sinned! I repent! I would repair!--She forgives my sin! She accepts my repentance! But she won't let me repair!--What wouldst have me do? 

But get thee gone to Belton as soon as thou canst. Yet whether thou goest or not, up I must go, and see what I can do with the sweet oddity myself. The moment these prescribing varlets will let me, depend upon it, I go. Nay, Lord M. thinks she ought to permit me one interview. His opinion has great authority with me-when it squares with my own: and I have assured him, and my two cousins, that I will behave with all the decency and respect that man can behave with to the person whom he most respects. And so I will. Of this, if thou choosest not to go to Belton meantime, thou shalt be witness. 

Colonel Morden, thou hast heard me say, is a man of honour and bravery-but Colonel Morden has had his girls as well as you and I. And indeed, either openly or secretly, who has not? The devil always baits with a pretty wench when he angles for a man, be his age, rank, or degree, what it will. 

I have often heard my beloved speak of the colonel with great distinction and esteem. I wish he could make matters a little easier, for her mind's sake, between the rest of the implacables and herself. 

Methinks I am sorry for honest Belton. But a man cannot be ill or vapourish, but thou liftest up thy shriek-owl note and killest him immediately. None but a fellow who is fit for a drummer in death's forlorn-hope could take so much delight, as thou dost, in beating a dead-march with thy goose-quills.