Deterville to Zilia

How cruel, my lovely friend, are those delays! I am grieved to the soul while I am detained from you. I have now been two months in this ancient seat of greatness, where I might perhaps find entertainment for a much longer time, if my mind was not too anxiously engaged in the pursuit of what I came here to solicit, to be capable of being amused by any thing without.

I have received great civilities from, I may say, all the nobility of Rome, and acquired the friendship of those whose good qualities make it most valuable: they have generously joined their interests in my behalf. I have no doubt of success; but the length of time makes me impatient. May I flatter myself, that Zilia feels any thing like a wish that my petition was granted, and that I had once more joined her in her charming retreat? Let me enjoy that dear thought; it will animate my endeavours, and I may breathe some of my ardour into the court of Rome, to make them speedy in determining my suit.

As I am now in the first city in the universe for the fine arts, you will naturally expect I should say something about them; but I beg you will excuse me: when I write to you, one favourite theme fills my thoughts, engrosses all my desires; nor can I find words to express myself on any other subject. Love, mighty Love, has taken possession of my soul, and leaves no room for any other guest. So entirely is he master, that he looks on every thing that would share with him as impertinent intruders. But lest I should tire you with a repetition of the same things, I must conclude with assuring you, I am your ever faithful and affectionate Deterville.