had been recommended to me from so good hands, and that
not being able to afford her any roome in my inclinations, she
hath found so little in my memorie. That is a certain part of
my Soul where I might justlie have allowed her a place, for that
is it which is the most opposite to judgement, and hath the charge
onelie of things past. But if I tell her any thing that favours of
obligation this afternoone, she shall have no cause to complain
that I speak to her onelie by heart; for I finde mine at such a
distance from whatever I have to say to her, that if I have not
your immediate assistance, you will finde I shall be as far to seek
as you, both as to words and time. But, were it Heavens plea∣sure
you knew not that of your departure, and that you were
not able to give me any account of it at least for this day. For,
to deal truelie with you, I have not courage enough, to endure
the verie imagination of it, nay that verie thought st••fles in me
all other. When I consider that to morrow you will not be to
be found here, I think it strange I should be in the World to
day: nay I am almost in an humour to acknowledge with you
that there is some fiction in the love I pretend to, when it comes
into my mind that I am still alive, and that this affliction does
not absolutelie make an end of me. Others have become speech∣lesse,
and confined themselves to the deserts of Thebais upon
lesse discontents then mine. But if I tell you, that I cannot go
so far from you to bemoane my misfortune, I am, methinks,
the more to be excused, that I go not to endure an hermitage in
the wildernesses of Aegypt, since I hope to finde a place in that
you are going to build. This hope is all that flaies me in this
World, my life hangs altogether on this consideration. I know
not whether all I have said here be within the limits of a pas∣sionate
friendship; and yet you cannot affirm that I speak to
you too clearlie, since you have ever had a priviledge to give
my words several interpretations: nor complain that I write
not to you in such termes as you desire, since I could never yet
meet with the man that should teach me how to do it. While
my failings are connived at, and the discoverie of my resent∣ments
allowed, I professe to you, with the same affection as I
did yesterdaie, that the onelie extravagance the World shall
know me guiltie of, shall be, ever to be enamoured of what was
ever amiable, and encurre your displeasure from the hour that
you are assured of my friendship.