yours, notwithstanding all his veneration and assiduities, has seen
further than that veneration and those assiduities (so well calculated
to your meridian) will let him own he has seen--has seen, in short,
that his work is doing for him more effectually than he could do it
for himself. And have you not before now said, that nothing is so
penetrating as the eye of a lover who has vanity? And who says
Lovelace wants vanity?

In short, my dear, it is my opinion, and that from the easiness of his
heart and behaviour, that he has seen more than I have seen; more than
you think could be seen--more than I believe you yourself know, or
else you would let me know it.

Already, in order to restrain him from resenting the indignities he
has received, and which are daily offered him, he has prevailed upon
you to correspond with him privately. I know he has nothing to boast
of from what you have written: but is not his inducing you to receive
his letters, and to answer them, a great point gained? By your
insisting that he should keep the correspondence private, it appears
there is one secret which you do not wish the world should know: and
he is master of that secret. He is indeed himself, as I may say, that
secret! What an intimacy does this beget for the lover! How is it
distancing the parent!

Yet who, as things are situated, can blame you?--Your condescension
has no doubt hitherto prevented great mischiefs. It must be
continued, for the same reasons, while the cause remains. You are
drawn in by a perverse fate against inclination: but custom, with such
laudable purposes, will reconcile the inconveniency, and make an
inclination.--And I would advise you (as you would wish to manage on