My Lord,--my friend,--my Darcey, nothing is impossible.

By heaven! he exclaim'd, you would not flatter me;--by heaven she lives!

Ask me not farther, my Lord.--What is the blessing you most wishfor?--Suppose that blessing granted.--And you, Risby, suppose theextasy,--the thankfulness that ensued.--He that is grateful to man, canhe be ungrateful to his Maker?

Yours,

M0LESW0RTH.