And you know, Jack, (as we told him, moreover,) that it was a shame to
manhood, for a man, who had served twenty and twenty women as bad or
worse, let him have served Miss Harlowe never so bad, should give himself
such obstropulous airs, because she would die: and we advised him never
to attempt a woman proud of her character and virtue, as they call it,
any more: for why? The conquest did not pay trouble; and what was there
in one woman more than another? Hay, you know, Jack!--And thus we
comforted him, and advised him.

But yet his d--d addled pate runs upon this lady as much now she's dead
as it did when she was living. For, I suppose, Jack, it is no joke: she
is certainly and bonâ fide dead: I'n't she? If not, thou deservest to be
doubly d--d for thy fooling, I tell thee that. So he will have me write
for particulars of her departure.

He won't bear the word dead on any account. A squeamish puppy! How love
unmans and softens! And such a noble fellow as this too! Rot him for an
idiot, and an oaf! I have no patience with the foolish duncical dog
--upon my soul, I have not!

So send the account, and let him howl over it, as I suppose he will.

But he must and shall go abroad: and in a month or two Jemmy, and you,
and I, will join him, and he'll soon get the better of this
chicken-hearted folly, never fear; and will then be ashamed of himself:
and then we'll not spare him; though now, poor fellow, it were pity to
lay him on so thick as he deserves. And do thou, till then, spare all
reflections upon him; for, it seems, thou hast worked him unmercifully.

I was willing to give thee some account of the hand we have had with the