I am in horrid dejection; every shilling that I draw from England goes to pay the debts of that scoundrel to whom I don’t owe a farthing, and from whom I shall never receive one. My dear Murray, I must write to you more confidentially. I am given to understand, from all sides, that I have not been so well treated as I ought in another quarter. I know not how to act; at all events, Volto sciolto, i pensieri stretti must be my motto for the present. I am in such a wretched state of lassitude and depression that I have been some hours writing these few lines, pausing over every sentence to know whether it had any meaning, and doubting whether I was capable of giving it any. However, I have still some gratitude left, to send my best respects to Mrs. Murray, and to assure you that to your friendly and hospitable attention I am indebted for the only pleasant hours passed during my sojourn in London.
Should you think of answering this incoherent scrawl, let me know if ‘Bertram’ keeps any hold of the public still, as I see Kean is announced in his former characters.
