Could any man but thee put together upon paper the following questions with so much unconcern as thou seemest to have written them?—­give them a reperusal, O heart of adamant!  ’Whither can she fly to avoid me?  Her parents will not receive her.  Her uncles will not entertain her.  Her beloved Norton is in their direction, and cannot.  Miss Howe dare not.  She has not one friend in town but me—­is entirely a stranger to the town.’*—­What must that heart be that can triumph in a distress so deep, into which she has been plunged by thy elaborate arts and contrivances?  And what a sweet, yet sad reflection was that, which had like to have had its due effect upon thee, arising from thy naming Lord M. for her nuptial father? her tender years inclining her to wish for a father, and to hope a friend.—­O my dear Lovelace, canst thou resolve to be, instead of the father thou hast robbed her of, a devil?

* See Letter XXI. of this volume.

Thou knowest, that I have no interest, that I can have no view, in wishing thee to do justice to this admirable creature.  For thy own sake, once more I conjure thee, for thy family’s sake, and for the sake of our common humanity, let me beseech thee to be just to Miss Clarissa Harlowe.

No matter whether these expostulations are in character from me, or not.  I have been and am bad enough.  If thou takest my advice, which is (as the enclosed will shew thee) the advice of all thy family, thou wilt perhaps have it to reproach me (and but perhaps neither) that thou art not a worse man than myself.  But if thou dost not, and if thou ruinest such a virtue, all the complicated wickedness of ten devils, let loose among the innocent with full power over them, will not do so much vile and base mischief as thou wilt be guilty of.

It is said that the prince on his throne is not safe, if a mind so desperate can be found, as values not its own life.  So may it be said, that the most immaculate virtue is not safe, if a man can be met with who has no regard to his own honour, and makes a jest of the most solemn vows and protestations.

Thou mayest by trick, chicane, and false colours, thou who art worse than a pickeroon in love, overcome a poor lady so entangled as thou hast entangled her; so unprotected as thou hast made her:  but consider, how much more generous and just to her, and noble to thyself, it is, to overcome thyself.

Once more, it is no matter whether my past or future actions countenance my preachment, as perhaps thou’lt call what I have written:  but this I promise thee, that whenever I meet with a woman of but one half of Miss Harlowe’s perfections, who will favour me with her acceptance, I will take the advice I give, and marry.  Nor will I offer to try her honour at the hazard of my own.