P.S.--Do attend to the punctuation: I can't, for I don't know a comma--at least where to place one.
That Tory of a printer has omitted two lines of the opening, and _perhaps more_, which were in the MS. Will you, pray, give him a hint of accuracy? I have reinserted the 2, but they were in the manuscript, I can swear.
My Dear Sir,--That you and I may distinctly understand each other on a subject, which, like "the dreadful reckoning when men smile no more," [1] makes conversation not very pleasant, I think it as well to _write_ a few lines on the topic.--Before I left town for Yorkshire, you said that you were ready and willing to give five hundred guineas for the copyright of 'The Giaour'; and my answer was--from which I do not mean to recede--that we would discuss the point at Christmas. The new story may or may not succeed; the probability, under present circumstances, seems to be, that it may at least pay its expences--but even that remains to be proved, and till it is proved one way or the other, we will say nothing about it. Thus then be it: I will postpone all arrangement about it, and 'The Giaour' also, till Easter, 1814; and you shall then, according to your own notions of fairness, make your own offer for the two. At the same time, I do not rate the last in my own estimation at half 'The Giaour'; and according to your own notions of its worth and its success within the time mentioned, be the addition or deduction to or from whatever sum may be your proposal for the first, which has already had its success [2].
My account with you since my last payment (which I believe cleared it off within five pounds) I presume has not _much_ increased--but whatever it is have the goodness to send it to me--that I may at least meet you on even terms.
The pictures of Phillips I consider as _mine_, all three; and the one (not the Arnaut) of the two best is much at _your service_, if you will accept it as a present, from Yours very truly, BIRON.
P.S.--The expence of engraving from the miniature send me in my account, as it was destroyed by my desire; and have the goodness to burn that detestable print from it immediately.
[Footnote 1: 'The What d'ye call't?' by John Gay (act ii. sc. 9):