Neither eat, drink, nor sleep!--a piteous case, Jack! If I should die
like a fool now, people would say Miss Harlowe had broken my heart.--That
she vexes me to the heart, is certain.

Confounded squeamish! I would fain write it off. But must lay down my
pen again. It won't do. Poor Lovelace!----What a devil ails thee?


***


Well, but now let's try for't--Hoy--Hoy--Hoy! Confound me for a gaping
puppy, how I yawn!--Where shall I begin? at thy executorship--thou shalt
have a double office of it: for I really think thou mayest send me a
coffin and a shroud. I shall be ready for them by the time they can come
down.

What a little fool is this Miss Harlowe! I warrant she'll now repent
that she refused me. Such a lovely young widow--What a charming widow
would she have made! how would she have adorned the weeds! to be a widow
in the first twelve months is one of the greatest felicities that can
befal a fine woman. Such pretty employment in new dismals, when she had
hardly worn round her blazing joyfuls! Such lights, and such shades! how
would they set off one another, and be adorned by the wearer!--

Go to the devil!--I will write!--Can I do anything else?

They would not have me write, Belford.--I must be ill indeed, when I