I sacrafised myself; I gave up the best sociaty in the land, to witch I have been accustomed, in order to be a gardian and compannion to you, and prevent, if possible, that waist and ixtravygance which I prophycied would be your ruin. Such waist and ixtravygance never, never, never did I see.
Heaven encrease your virtue: so much sense, and so much beauty we seldom meet with in any one person: But, lest you shou'd think your civility thrown away, you have found a lover for it: I'll give the world your praises in verse: I'll be your servant, your gardian, and will follow you every where: Nor can Encolpius think himself injur'd, he loves another."
My gardian angel is asleep At leest he doth no vigil keep Ah! woe is me! Then give me back my lonely farm Where none alive did wish me harm Dear home of youth! P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a book but could not get it right at first.
You know, too well, how far my suit is unpleasant to your gardian, to torture a slight departure from cold observances into cause of serious complaint.