Yet in Dryden's Palamon and Arcite have I just now met with a passage, that has in it much of our Bob.'s case. These are some of the lines.
Mr. Mowbray then recites some lines from that poem, describing a
distracted man, and runs the parallel; and then, priding himself
in his performance, says:
Let me tell you, that had I begun to write as early as you and Lovelace, I might have cut as good a figure as either of you. Why not? But boy or man I ever hated a book. 'Tis folly to lie. I loved action, my boy. I hated droning; and have led in former days more boys from their book, than ever my master made to profit by it. Kicking and cuffing, and orchard-robbing, were my early glory.
But I am tired of writing. I never wrote such a long letter in my life. My wrist and my fingers and thumb ache d——n——y. The pen is an hundred weight at least. And my eyes are ready to drop out of my head upon the paper.—The cramp but this minute in my fingers. Rot the goose and the goose-quill! I will write no more long letters for a twelve-month to come. Yet one word; we think the mad fellow coming to. Adieu.
LETTER XXIII
MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. UXBRIDGE, SAT. SEPT. 9.
JACK,
I think it absolutely right that my ever-dear and beloved lady should be opened and embalmed. It must be done out of hand this very afternoon. Your acquaintance, Tomkins, and old Anderson of this place, I will bring with me, shall be the surgeons. I have talked to the latter about it.
I will see every thing done with that decorum which the case, and the sacred person of my beloved require.