EVER DEAREST EMMA,
I went down to your Opera box two minutes after you left it; and should have seen you on the morning of your departure—but was detained in the arms of Murphy, as Lady Eden expressed it, and was too late.
You say nothing of the adorable Queen; I hope, she has not forgot me: but, as Shakespeare says, "Who doats, must doubt;" and I verily deem her the very best edition of a woman I ever saw—I mean; of such as are not in folio, and are to be had in sheets.
I will come on Friday or Saturday; but our British colony are so numerous, that my duties obstruct my pleasures.
Ever, and invariably, dearest, dear Emma, most affectionately, your
B.
You see, I am but the second letter of your alphabet, though you are the first of mine.
X.
Milan, 24th November 1798.
I know not, Dearest Emma, whether friend Sir William has been able to obtain my passport, or not; but this I know—that, if they have refused it, they are damned fools for their pains: for, never was a Malta orange better worth squeezing or sucking; and if they leave me to die, without a tombstone over me, to tell the contents—"tant pis pour eux!"