My Dear Bankes
,—I feel rather hurt (not savagely) at the speech you made to me last night, and my hope is that it was only one of your
profane
jests. I should be very sorry that any part of my behaviour should give you cause to suppose that I think higher of myself, or otherwise of you than I have always done. I can assure you that I am as much the humblest of your servants as at Trin. Coll.; and if I have not been at home when you favoured me with a call, the loss was more mine than yours. In the bustle of buzzing parties, there is, there can be, no rational conversation; but when I can enjoy it, there is nobody's I can prefer to your own.
Believe me, ever faithfully and most affectionately yours,
Byron
.