sordid Wretch your Father, 'tis no more than he deserves, and if my
Shade appears to you, look on that unconcern'd which cannot injure you.
My last Request to you is to take care of your self, who am_

Your despairing Lover,

But Admirer,

LEANDER

_Theodora_ receiv'd this moving Letter with a Concern proportion'd to
the melancholly Occasion; she communicated it to an intimate
Acquaintance, who likewise express'd the utmost Uneasiness; the thoughts
of the Catastrophe of the Loves of _Theodora_ and _Leander_ presented a
lively Idea to _Theodora's_ Companion, of the Miseries and Misfortunes
attending Mankind. "Hard is the Case (says she) that _Leander_, one of
the finest young Gentlemen of _Naples_, should be sacrific'd to a
mercenary Wretch, a Wretch, that in the midst of plenty is poor and
miserable, and who, tho' he has all Things to compleat his Happiness,
his avaricious Temper will not permit him to enjoy the common
Necessaries of Life: The Pleasures of living he's a Stranger to, he
lives despis'd, and will die unpitied: But such is the inequality of
Fortune's Favours, that Merit must stoop and Ideots be advanc'd to the
highest Pomp and Magnificence. It is entirely out of your Power to give
the pitied _Leander_ the least Relief; your Father's House is a Nunnery,
he has his Locks and Keys to secure you, and his Spies for Intelligence;
but I advise you to send the unfortunate Youth an Answer to his mournful
Epistle." Upon this, _Theodora_ immediately call'd for Pen, Ink and
Paper, and wrote the following Answer.