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My dearest friend,
I Have bin a long and sad journey, which seem'd so much the longer and so much the sadder, by how much I was farther distanced from your sweet abode, nor had the sadnes of this forc'd va∣gary any solace at all, saving that of neer 300 miles, I passed no one, without making a Relique of your
memory, which had still the vertue to renew all joyes in me, and expell the mists of melancholy, almost with equall force (so strong was my i∣magination) as if I had bin really in your pre∣sence; If you have but bestowed one thought on me for every hundred I have dedicated to you, I am satisfied, believing that no love can come with∣in so many degrees of mine, nor that there's any state so happy, as that of being
Your devoted servant, T.B.