Madam:—The dullness of this last cold season doth afford nothing that is new to divert you; only here is a report that I fain would know the truth of, which is, that I am extremely in love with you. Pray let me know if it be true or no, since I am certain that nothing but yourself can rightly inform me; for if you intend to use me favorably, and do think I am in love with you, I most certainly am so; but if you intend to receive me coldly, and do not believe that I am in love, I also am sure that I am not; therefore let me entreat you to put me out of a doubt which makes the greatest concern of,
Dear Madam, your most obedient faithful servant,
Chesterfield.
(It is the part of a skillful general to secure a good retreat.)
WRITTEN IN SYMPATHETIC INK.
Dear girl, if thou hadst been less fair,
Or I had been more bold,
The burning words I now would write,
Ere this, my tongue had told.
True to its bashful instinct still,