My dear friend:  I received yesterday your letter of the 7th, N. S., from Naples, to which place I find you have traveled, classically, critically, and ‘da virtuoso’.  You did right, for whatever is worth seeing at, all, is worth seeing well, and better than most people see it.  It is a poor and frivolous excuse, when anything curious is talked of that one has seen, to say, I saw it, but really I did not much mind it.  Why did they go to see it, if they would not mind it? or why not mind it when they saw it?  Now that you are at Naples, you pass part of your time there ’en honnete homme, da garbato cavaliere’, in the court and the best companies.  I am told that strangers are received with the utmost hospitality at Prince-------’s, ’que lui il fait bonne chere, et que Madame la Princesse donne chere entire; mais que sa chair est plus que hazardee ou mortifiee meme’; which in plain English means, that she is not only tender, but rotten.  If this be true, as I am pretty sure it is, one may say to her in a little sense, ‘juvenumque prodis, publics cura’.

Mr. Harte informs me that you are clothed in sumptuous apparel; a young fellow should be so; especially abroad, where fine clothes are so generally the fashion.  Next to their being fine, they should be well made, and worn easily for a man is only the less genteel for a fine coat, if, in wearing it, he shows a regard for it, and is not as easy in it as if it were a plain one.

I thank you for your drawing, which I am impatient to see, and which I shall hang up in a new gallery that I am building at Blackheath, and very fond of; but I am still more impatient for another copy, which I wonder I have not yet received, I mean the copy of your countenance.  I believe, were that a whole length, it would still fall a good deal short of the dimensions of the drawing after Dominichino, which you say is about eight feet high; and I take you, as well as myself, to be of the family of the Piccolomini.  Mr. Bathurst tells me that he thinks you rather taller than I am; if so, you may very possibly get up to five feet eight inches, which I would compound for, though I would wish you five feet ten.  In truth, what do I not wish you, that has a tendency to perfection?  I say a tendency only, for absolute perfection is not in human nature, so that it would be idle to wish it.  But I am very willing to compound for your coming nearer to perfection than the generality of your contemporaries:  without a compliment to you, I think you bid fair for that.  Mr. Harte affirms (and if it were consistent with his character would, I believe, swear) that you have no vices of the heart; you have undoubtedly a stock of both ancient and modern learning, which I will venture to say nobody of your age has, and which must now daily increase, do what you will.  What, then, do you want toward that practicable degree of perfection which I wish