LETTER XVII
MR. BELFORD, TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ.WEDNESDAY MORN. 11 O'CLOCK.
I believe no man has two such servants as I have. Because I treat themwith kindness, and do not lord it over my inferiors, and d--n and cursethem by looks and words like Mowbray; or beat their teeth out likeLovelace; but cry, Pr'ythee, Harry, do this, and, Pr'ythee, Jonathan, dothat; the fellows pursue their own devices, and regard nothing I say, butwhat falls in with these.
Here, this vile Harry, who might have brought your letter of yesterday ingood time, came not in with it till past eleven at night (drunk, Isuppose); and concluding that I was in bed, as he pretends (because hewas told I sat up the preceding night) brought it not to me; and havingoverslept himself, just as I had sealed up my letter, in comes thevillain with the forgotten one, shaking his ears, and looking as if hehimself did not believe the excuses he was going to make. I questionedhim about it, and heard his pitiful pleas; and though I never think itbecomes a gentleman to treat people insolently who by their stations arehumbled beneath his feet, yet could I not forbear to Lovelace and Mowbrayhim most cordially.
And this detaining Mowbray (who was ready to set out to you before) whileI write a few lines upon it, the fierce fellow, who is impatient toexchange the company of a dying Belton for that of a too-lively Lovelace,affixed a supplement of curses upon the staring fellow, that was largerthan my book--nor did I offer to take off the bear from such a mongrel,since, on this occasion, he deserved not of me the protection which everymaster owes to a good servant.
He has not done cursing him yet; for stalking about the court-yard withhis boots on, (the poor fellow dressing his horse, and unable to get fromhim,) he is at him without mercy; and I will heighten his impatience,(since being just under the window where I am writing, he will not let meattend to my pen,) by telling you how he fills my ears as well as thefellow's, with his--Hay, Sir! And G--d d--n ye, Sir! And were ye myservant, ye dog ye! And must I stay here till the mid-day sun scorchesme to a parchment, for such a mangy dog's drunken neglect?--Ye lie,Sirrah!--Ye lie, I tell you--[I hear the fellow's voice in an humbleexcusatory tone, though not articulately] Ye lie, ye dog!--I'd a goodmind to thrust my whip down your drunken throat: d--n me, if I would notflay the skin from the back of such a rascal, if thou wert mine, and havedog's-skin gloves made of it, for thy brother scoundrels to wear inremembrance of thy abuses of such a master.
The poor horse suffers for this, I doubt not; for, What now! and, Standstill, and be d--d to ye, cries the fellow, with a kick, I suppose, whichhe better deserves himself; for these varlets, where they can, areMowbrays and Lovelaces to man or beast; and not daring to answer him, isflaying the poor horse.
I hear the fellow is just escaped, the horse, (better curried thanordinary, I suppose, in half the usual time,) by his clanking shoes, andMowbray's silence, letting me know, that I may now write on: and so, Iwill tell thee that, in the first place, (little as I, as well as you,regard dreams,) I would have thee lay thine to heart; for I could givethee such an interpretation of it, as would shock thee, perhaps; and ifthou askest me for it, I will.
Mowbray calls to me from the court-yard, that 'tis a cursed hot day, andhe shall be fried by riding in the noon of it: and that poor Belton longsto see me. So I will only add my earnest desire, that you will give overall thoughts of seeing the lady, if, when this comes to your hand, youhave not seen her: and, that it would be kind, if you'd come, and, forthe last time you will ever see your poor friend, share my concern forhim; and, in him, see what, in a little time, will be your fate and mine,and that of Mowbray, Tourville, and the rest of us--For what are ten,fifteen, twenty, or thirty years, to look back to; in the longest ofwhich periods forward we shall all perhaps be mingled with the dust fromwhich we sprung?