MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.
WEDNESDAY MORN. 11 O'CLOCK.
I believe no man has two such servants as I have. Because I treat them
with kindness, and do not lord it over my inferiors, and d--n and curse
them by looks and words like Mowbray; or beat their teeth out like
Lovelace; but cry, Pr'ythee, Harry, do this, and, Pr'ythee, Jonathan, do
that; the fellows pursue their own devices, and regard nothing I say, but
what falls in with these.
Here, this vile Harry, who might have brought your letter of yesterday in
good time, came not in with it till past eleven at night (drunk, I
suppose); and concluding that I was in bed, as he pretends (because he
was told I sat up the preceding night) brought it not to me; and having
overslept himself, just as I had sealed up my letter, in comes the
villain with the forgotten one, shaking his ears, and looking as if he
himself did not believe the excuses he was going to make. I questioned
him about it, and heard his pitiful pleas; and though I never think it
becomes a gentleman to treat people insolently who by their stations are
humbled beneath his feet, yet could I not forbear to Lovelace and Mowbray
him most cordially.
And this detaining Mowbray (who was ready to set out to you before) while
I write a few lines upon it, the fierce fellow, who is impatient to
exchange the company of a dying Belton for that of a too-lively Lovelace,
affixed a supplement of curses upon the staring fellow, that was larger
than my book--nor did I offer to take off the bear from such a mongrel,
since, on this occasion, he deserved not of me the protection which every
master owes to a good servant.
He has not done cursing him yet; for stalking about the court-yard with
his boots on, (the poor fellow dressing his horse, and unable to get from
him,) he is at him without mercy; and I will heighten his impatience,
(since being just under the window where I am writing, he will not let me
attend to my pen,) by telling you how he fills my ears as well as the
fellow's, with his--Hay, Sir! And G--d d--n ye, Sir! And were ye my
servant, ye dog ye! And must I stay here till the mid-day sun scorches
me to a parchment, for such a mangy dog's drunken neglect?--Ye lie,
Sirrah!--Ye lie, I tell you--[I hear the fellow's voice in an humble
excusatory tone, though not articulately] Ye lie, ye dog!--I'd a good
mind to thrust my whip down your drunken throat: d--n me, if I would not
flay the skin from the back of such a rascal, if thou wert mine, and have
dog's-skin gloves made of it, for thy brother scoundrels to wear in
remembrance of thy abuses of such a master.
The poor horse suffers for this, I doubt not; for, What now! and, Stand
still, and be d--d to ye, cries the fellow, with a kick, I suppose, which
he better deserves himself; for these varlets, where they can, are
Mowbrays and Lovelaces to man or beast; and not daring to answer him, is
flaying the poor horse.
I hear the fellow is just escaped, the horse, (better curried than
ordinary, I suppose, in half the usual time,) by his clanking shoes, and
Mowbray's silence, letting me know, that I may now write on: and so, I
will tell thee that, in the first place, (little as I, as well as you,
regard dreams,) I would have thee lay thine to heart; for I could give
thee such an interpretation of it, as would shock thee, perhaps; and if
thou askest me for it, I will.
Mowbray calls to me from the court-yard, that 'tis a cursed hot day, and
he shall be fried by riding in the noon of it: and that poor Belton longs
to see me. So I will only add my earnest desire, that you will give over
all thoughts of seeing the lady, if, when this comes to your hand, you
have not seen her: and, that it would be kind, if you'd come, and, for
the last time you will ever see your poor friend, share my concern for
him; and, in him, see what, in a little time, will be your fate and mine,
and that of Mowbray, Tourville, and the rest of us--For what are ten,
fifteen, twenty, or thirty years, to look back to; in the longest of
which periods forward we shall all perhaps be mingled with the dust from
which we sprung?