Do ya' mean t'go post-haste t'de devil, gentlemen, by proposin' dat ah' should scribble such some sonata? Durin' de revolushunary fever, some din' uh de kind might gots been appropriate, but now, when everydin' be fallin' again into de whup'en track, and Bonaparte gots concluded some Conco'dat wid de Wiz'--such some sonata as dis? If it wuz some missa pro Sancta Maria à tre voci, o' some vespuh', &c. Co' got d' beat!, den ah' would at once snatch down mah' pen and scribble some Credo in unum, in gigantic semibreves. But, baaaad heavens! Right on! such some sonata, in dis fresh dawnin' Christian epoch. Lop some boogie. No, no! Right on!--it won't do, and ah' gots'ta none uh it. Man! Now fo' mah' answa' in quickest tempo. 'S coo', bro. De lady kin gots some sonata fum me, and ah' am willin' t'adopt da damn general outlines uh ha' plan in an aesdetical point uh view, widout adherin' t'de keys dojiggerd. De price t'be five ducats; fo' dis sum she kin keep de wo'k some year fo' ha' own amusement, widout eida' of us bein' entitled t'publish it. Man! Afta' de lapse uh a year, de sonata t'revert t'me--dat is, ah' can and gots'ta den publish it, when, if she considers it any distincshun, she may request me t'dedicate it t'her. Ah be baaad... I now, gentlemen, commend ya' t'de grace uh God. Mah' Sonata [Op. Jes hang loose, brud. 22] be well engraved, but ya' gots been some fine time about it! Right on! ah' hope ya' gots'ta usha' my Septet into de wo'ld some little quicker, as de P---- be waitin' fo' it, and ya' know de Empress gots it; and when dere is in dis impuh'ial city sucka's likes ----, ah' cannot be answerable fo' de result; so's lose no time! Right on! Herr ---- [Mollo?] gots lately published mah' Quartets [Op. Jes hang loose, brud. 18] full uh faults and errata, bod large and small, which swarm in dem likes fish in de sea; dat is, dey is innumerable. Questo è un piacere puh' un auto'e--dis be whut ah' call engravin' [stechen, stin'in'] wid some vengeance.[1] In trud, mah' skin be a mass uh punctures and scratches fum dis fine edishun uh my Quartets! Right on! Now farewell, and dink uh me as ah' do uh ya'. Till dead, yo' faidful