St. James's Street, March 5, 1812.
My Lord
,—
May
I request your Lordship to accept a copy of the thing which accompanies this note
?
You have already so fully proved the truth of the first line of Pope's couplet ,
"Forgiveness to the injured doth belong,"
that I long for an opportunity to give the lie to the verse that follows. If I were not perfectly convinced that any thing I may have formerly uttered in the boyish rashness of my misplaced resentment had made as little impression as it deserved to make, I should hardly have the confidence—perhaps your Lordship may give it a stronger and more appropriate appellation—to send you a quarto of the same scribbler. But your Lordship, I am sorry to observe to-day, is troubled with the gout; if my book can produce a laugh against itself or the author, it will be of some service. If it can set you to sleep, the benefit will be yet greater; and as some facetious personage observed half a century ago, that "poetry is a mere drug,"
I offer you mine as a humble assistant to the eau medicinale. I trust you will forgive this and all my other buffooneries, and believe me to be, with great respect,
Your Lordship's obliged and sincere servant,
Byron