Seriously, he talks of hundreds a year, and—though I hate prating of the beggarly elements —his proposal may be to your honour and profit, and, I am very sure, will be to our pleasure.
I don't know what to say about "friendship." I never was in friendship but once, in my nineteenth year, and then it gave me as much trouble as love. I
afraid, as Whitbread's sire said to the king, when he wanted to knight him, that I am "too old;
but nevertheless, no one wishes you more friends, fame, and felicity, than
Yours, etc.