Do not write but _come_. Mary is too idle to write, but all that she has to say is _come_. She joins with me in condemning the moonlight plan. Indeed we ought not to be so selfish as to allow you to come at all, if it is to cost you all the fatigue and annoyance of returning the same night. But it will not be--so adieu. TO MR. AND MRS. GISBORNE. _Pisa, April 23, 1820._ My dear Friends, We were much pained to hear of the illness you all seem to have been suffering, and still more at the apparent dejection of your last letter. We are in daily expectation this lovely weather of seeing you, and I think the change of air and scene might be good for your health and spirits, even if _we_ cannot enliven you. I shall have some business at Livorno soon; and I thought of coming to fetch you, but I have changed my plan, and mean to return with you, that I may save myself two journeys. I have been thinking, and talking, and reading Agriculture this last week. But I am very anxious to see you, especially now as instead of six hours, you give us thirty-six, or perhaps more. I shall hear of the steam-engine, and you will hear of _our_ plans, when we meet, which will be in so short a time that I neither inquire nor communicate. Ever affectionately yours, P. B. Shelley. TO MR. AND MRS. GISBORNE. (LONDON). _Pisa, May 26th, 1820._ My dear Friends, I write to you thus early, because I have determined to accept of your kind offer about the correction of “Prometheus.” The bookseller makes difficulties about sending the proofs to me, and to whom else can I so well entrust what I am so much interested in having done well; and to whom would I prefer to owe the recollection of an additional kindness done to me? I enclose you two little papers of corrections and additions;--I do not think you will find any difficulty in interpolating them into their proper places. Well, how do you like London, and your journey; the Alps in their beauty and their eternity; Paris in its slight and transitory colours; and the wearisome plains of France--and the _moral_ people with whom you drank tea last night? Above all, _how_ are you? And of the last question, believe me, we are now most anxiously waiting for a reply--until which I will say nothing, nor ask anything. I rely on the journal with as much security as if it were already written.