“So you are at your old tricks again. This is the second packet I have received unaccompanied by a single line of good, bad, or indifferent. It is strange that you have never forwarded any further observations of Gifford’s. How am I to alter or amend, if I hear no further? or does this silence mean that it is well enough as it is, or too bad to be repaired? if the last, why do you not say so at once, instead of playing pretty, while you know that soon or late you must out with the truth.
P.S. My sister tells me that you sent to her to inquire where I
was, believing in my arrival, ‘driving a
curricle,’ &c. &c. into Palace-yard. Do you think me a coxcomb or
a madman, to be capable of such an exhibition? My sister knew me better, and told
you, that could not A. D. 1820. LIFE OF LORD BYRON. 345 be me. You
might as well have thought me entering on ‘a pale horse,’ like
Death in the Revelations.”
