me she heard I was in love with one naming you, and twenty particulars; that little master and I visited you; and that the archbishop did so; and that you had abundance of wit, &c. I ever feared the tattle of this nasty town, and told you so; and that was the reason I said to you long ago, that I would see you seldom when you were in Ireland; and I must beg you to be easy, if, for some time, I visit you seldomer, and not in so particular a manner. I will see you at the latter end of the week, if possible. These are accidents in life that are necessary, and must be submitted to; and tattle, by the help of discretion, will wear off." But discretion was ill suited to a mind, now under the dominion of an ungovernable passion, and which had no other enjoyment in life, but in the society of the beloved object. She importuned him so with letters, messages, and complaints, that he was obliged to assume a sternness of behaviour to her, and treat her with a rigour quite foreign to his heart[1]. The effect this had on her, is most feelingly set forth in one of her letters, 1714. "You bid me be easy, and you would see me as often as you could. You had better have said, as often as you could get the better of your inclinations so much; or as often as you remembered there was such a one in the world. If you continue to treat me as you do, you will not be made uneasy by me long. It is impossible to describe what I have suffered since I saw you last. I am sure I could have born the rack
- ↑ In answer to a letter which she had sent after him by her servant when he was on the road to Philipstown, he concludes thus: "I have rode a tedious journey to day, and can say no more. Nor shall you know where I am till I come, and then I will see you. A fig for your letters and messages."
