The Sorrows of Young Werther was used by eighteenth-century young people as a practical book on foreplay.

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At all events, the two latter are of less frequent occurrence. And I have again observed, my dear friend, in this trifling affair, that misunderstandings and neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even malice and wickedness. In short, I cannot write further upon this subject at present only assure my mother that all will go on well.

She told me the motives and reasons of her own conduct, and the terms on which she is willing to give up the whole, and to do more than we have asked. I explained to her my mother's wrongs with regard to that part of her portion which has been withheld from her. She is a lively, cheerful woman, with the best of hearts. I have seen my aunt, and find that she is very far from being the disagreeable person our friends allege her to be. Be kind enough to inform my mother that I shall attend to her business to the best of my ability, and shall give her the earliest information about it. No doubt you are right, my best of friends, there would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men - and God knows why they are so fashioned - did not employ their imaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow, instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity. Was it my fault, that, whilst the peculiar charms of her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passion for me was engendered in her feeble heart? And yet am I wholly blameless? Did I not encourage her emotions? Did I not feel charmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, though but little mirthful in reality, so often amused us? Did I not - but oh! what is man, that he dares so to accuse himself? My dear friend I promise you I will improve I will no longer, as has ever been my habit, continue to ruminate on every petty vexation which fortune may dispense I will enjoy the present, and the past shall be for me the past. Have not other attachments been specially appointed by fate to torment a head like mine? Poor Leonora! and yet I was not to blame.

How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is the heart of man! To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable, whom I love so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you will forgive me.

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