Send me those writings of yours, that speak so curiously of happiness. Also those volumes of Suckling and Rochester you mentioned. ‘Pigmalion’s Image’ I read with delight: it is a picture of such vivid, fruit-like loveliness as no modern poet could invent. Almost the reader believes in its truth--for me, my breath came quick and my cheeks grew hot as the Sculptor’s desire was granted. Is there no other poem told in so sweet fashion? Have you not quoted one ‘Hero and Leander’ by Kit Marlowe; the story of a lover who swam the sea? Pray, if thou canst procure it, do so, for I am enamoured of verse. To-morrow night we go to the Assembly Ball. I have prepared a surprise for you. Such a gown as you swore would become me most has been devised, and you will see me in light green, with laces of dead-leaf colour. Let not scruples hinder your coming. Lastly, for I was fain to finish with the taste of this, I am sending you a cravat, wrought by my own hands, of admirable point, of the kind Antonio Moro loved to paint. It has all been done in my chamber, and none knows of it save myself. Honour me by wearing it to-morrow, and understand me, as ever, your loving friend. THE SAME TO THE SAME. _24th June 1710._ Since your removal to Bath, life here has been trebly stagnant. I trust the waters are improving the health of madam your wife, to whom pray commend me. My godmother, Lady Comber, is staying near you. She wrote the other day to bid me come over, but--I cannot. You would be less _for_ me, I less _to_ you in the midst of a crowd of intellectual and fashionable folk. So I must endure the sweltering summer at home, but truly beg for all possible alleviation of the dulness by what letters your kindness may prompt you to send. As you ask, I have writ no more poetry. In a sardonic mood, such as I suffer at present, I am inclined to think all my past work neither rhyme nor reason. This day I have been over all the walks we affected plucking flowers for our favourite seat, and kissing the lavender tree that grows at the lake-vista. It was a solemn pleasure to revisit these places; a pleasure illumined with the glad certainty that erelong you will be my companion again. Write to me soon, and tell me a thousand things of yourself. Have you met the great wits? Have you played and won, or--God forbid--lost? What said you in your sermon before the Prince? BUT ABOVE ALL, HAVE YOU MISSED ME? Last night I could not sleep. The heat was great, my imagination tortured. Ever and anon I fancied you were near, so rising from my bed at last I sat looking down the terrace, each moment anticipating your approach. By some miracle you were to arrive and to tell me that the strength of my affection had drawn you.