...  ’Tis pity I cannot show you what his wit could do upon so ill a subject, but my Lady Ruthin keeps them to abuse me withal, and has put a tune to them that I may hear them all manner of ways; and yet I do protest I remember nothing more of them than this lame piece,—­

          A stately and majestic brow,
          Of force to make Protectors bow.

Indeed, if I have any stately looks I think he has seen them, but yet it seems they could not keep him from playing the fool.  My Lady Grey told me that one day talking of me to her (as he would find ways to bring in that discourse by the head and shoulders, whatsoever anybody else could interpose), he said he wondered I did not marry.  She (that understood him well enough, but would not seem to do so) said she knew not, unless it were that I liked my present condition so well that I did not care to change it; which she was apt to believe, because to her knowledge I had refused very good fortunes, and named some so far beyond his reach, that she thought she had dashed all his hopes.  But he, confident still, said ’twas perhaps that I had no fancy to their persons (as if his own were so taking), that I was to be looked upon as one that had it in my power to please myself, and that perhaps in a person I liked would bate something of fortune.  To this my Lady answered again for me, that ’twas not impossible but I might do so, but in that point she thought me nice and curious enough.  And still to dishearten him the more, she took occasion (upon his naming some gentlemen of the county that had been talked of heretofore as of my servants, and are since disposed of) to say (very plainly) that ’twas true they had some of them pretended, but there was an end of my Bedfordshire servants she was sure there were no more that could be admitted into the number.  After all this (which would have satisfied an ordinary young man) did I this last Thursday receive a letter from him by Collins, which he sent first to London that it might come thence to me.  I threw it into the fire; and do you but keep my counsel, nobody shall ever know that I had it; and my gentleman shall be kept at such a distance as I hope to hear no more of him.  Yet I’ll swear of late I have used him so near to rudely that there is little left for me to do.  Fye! what a deal of paper I have spent upon this idle fellow; if I had thought his story would have proved so long you should have missed on’t, and the loss would not have been great.

I have not thanked you yet for my tweezers and essences; they are both very good.  I kept one of the little glasses myself; remember my ring, and in return, if I go to London whilst you are in Ireland, I’ll have my picture taken in little and send it you.  The sooner you despatch away will be the better, I think, since I have no hopes of seeing you before you go; there lies all your business, your father and fortune must do all the rest.  I cannot be more yours than I am.  You are mistaken if you think