hunched and punched by every body; and go home with his finger in his
eye, and tell his mother.

While Lovelace I have supposed a curl-pated villain, full of fire,
fancy, and mischief; an orchard-robber, a wall-climber, a horse-rider
without saddle or bridle, neck or nothing: a sturdy rogue, in short,
who would kick and cuff, and do no right, and take no wrong of any
body; would get his head broke, then a plaster for it, or let it heal
of itself; while he went on to do more mischief, and if not to get, to
deserve, broken bones. And the same dispositions have grown up with
them, and distinguish them as me, with no very material alteration.

Only that all men are monkeys more or less, or else that you and I
should have such baboons as these to choose out of, is a mortifying
thing, my dear.

I am sensible that I am a little out of season in treating thus
ludicrously the subject I am upon, while you are so unhappy; and if my
manner does not divert you, as my flightiness used to do, I am
inexcusable both to you, and to my own heart: which, I do assure you,
notwithstanding my seeming levity, is wholly in your case.

As this letter is extremely whimsical, I will not send it until I can
accompany it with something more solid and better suited to your
unhappy circumstances; that is to say, to the present subject of our
correspondence. To-morrow, as I told you, will be wholly my own, and
of consequence yours. Adieu, therefore, till then.