|<[iii]> [The Epistle Dedicatory]
SIR
I beg you will give me leave to express my gratitude in some measure, for the favours I have receiv’d of you, and to make an acknowledgement where I cannot pay a debt. ’Tis only what was long since design’d you, when possibly it might have found something a better wellcome, by its having made (as it must have done) a voyage to have kist your hands, and might perhaps then have contributed in
How soon at the choice of the most glorious Senate, that ever blest the Land, was your vallu’d name snatch’d
SIR
Your most Oblig’d
humble Servant,
A. B.
The ARGUMENT
At the end of the first Part of these Letters, we left Philander impatiently waiting on the Sea shore for the approach of the lovely Silvia; who accordingly came to him|<2> drest like a youth, to secure her self from a discovery. They staid not long to caress each other, but he taking the welcome Maid in his Arms, with a transported joy bore her to a small Vessel, that lay ready near the Beach, where, with only Brilljard and two Men Servants, they put to Sea, and past into Holland, landing at the nearest Port; where, after having refresht themselves for two or three days, they past forwards towards the Brill Silvia still remaining under that amiable disguise: but in their passage from Town to Town, which is sometimes by Coach, and other times by Boat, they chanc’d one day to incounter a young Hollander of a more than Ordinary Gallantry for that Country, so degenerate from good manners and almost common Civility,|<3> and so far short of all the good qualities that made themselves appear in this young Noble-Man. He was very hansom, well made, well drest, and very well attended; and whom we will call Octavio, and who, young as he was, was one of the States* of Holland;* he spoke admirable good French, and had a vivacity and quickness of Wit unusual with the Natives of that part of the World,* and almost above all the rest of his Sex: Philander and Silvia having already agreed for the Cabin of the Vessel that was to carry them to the next Stage, Octavio came too late to have any place there but amongst the common crow’d; which the Master of the Vessel, who knew him, was much troubl’d at, and addrest himself as civilly as he cou’d to Philander, to beg permission for one stranger of quality|<4> to dispose of himself in the Cabin for that day: Philander being well enough pleas’d, so to make an acquaintance with some of power of that Country, readily consented, and Octavio enter’d with an address so graceful and obliging, that at first sight he inclin’d Philanders, heart to a friendship with him, and on the other side the lovely person of Philander, the quality that appear’d in his face and mein, oblig’d Octavio to become no less his admirer. But when he saluted Silvia, who appear’d to him a youth of quality, he was extreamly charm’d with her pretty gayety, and an unusual Air and life in her address and motion, he felt a secret joy and pleasure play about his Soul, he knew not why; And was almost angry, that he felt such an emotion for a youth, though the most lovely that he e-|<5>ver saw. After the first complyments, they fell into discourse of a thousand indifferent things; and if he were pleas’d at first sight with the two Lovers, he was wholly charm’d by their conversation, especially that of the amiable youth; who well enough pleas’d with the young Stranger, or else hitherto having met nothing so accomplisht in her short Travels, and indeed despairing to meet any such; she put on all her gayety and charms of Wit, and made as absolute a Conquest as ’twas possible for her suppos’d Sex to do over a man, who was a great admirer of the other; and surely the lovely Maid never appear’d so charming and desirable as that day; they din’d together in the Cabin, and after dinner repos’d on little Matresses by each others side, where every motion, every|<6> limb, as carelessly she lay, discover’d a thousand Graces and more and more inflam’d the now beginning Lover; she cou’d not move; nor smile, nor speak, nor order any charm about her, but had some peculiar Grace that begun to make him uneasie; and from a thousand little Modesties, both in her blushes and motions, he had a secret hope she was not what she seem’d, but of that Sex whereof she discover’d so many softnesses and beauties; though to what advantage that hope wou’d amount to his repose, was yet a disquiet he had not consider’d nor felt: nor cou’d he by any fondness between them, or indiscretion of love, conceive how the lovely Strangers were alied; he only hop’d, and had no thoughts of fear, or any thing that cou’d check his new begin-|<7>ning flame. While thus they past the after-noon, they ask’d a thousand questions, of Lovers, of the Country and manners, and their security and civility to Strangers; to all which Octavio answer’d as a man, who wou’d recommend the place and persons purely to oblige their stay; for now self interest makes him say all things in favour of it; and of his own friendship, offers ’em all the service of a Man of power, and who cou’d make an interest in those that had more than himself; much he protested, much he offer’d, and yet no more than he design’d to make good on all occasions, which they receiv’d with an acknowledgement that plainly discover’d a generosity and quality above the common rate of Men; so that finding in each other occasions for Love and friendship,|<8> they mutually profest it, and nobly entertain’d it. Octavio told his Name and quality, left nothing unsaid that might confirm the Lovers of his sincerity. This begot a confidence in Philander, who in return told him so much of his Circumstances as suffic’d to let him know he was a person so unfortunate to have occasion’d the displeasure of his King against him, and that he cou’d not continue with any repose in that Kingdom, whose Monarch thought him no longer fit for those honours he had before receiv’d; Octavio renew’d his protestations of serving him with his interest and fortune, which the other receiving with all the Gallant modesty of an unfortunate Man, they came a shore, where Octavio’s Coaches and Equipage waiting his coming to conduct him to his house, he offer’d his new friends the best|<9> of ’em to carry them to their lodging, which he had often prest might be his own Pallace, but that being refus’d as too great an honour, he wou’d himself see ’em plac’d in some one, which he thought might be most sutable to their quality; they excus’d the trouble, but he prest too eagerly to be deny’d, and he conducted them to a Merchants house not far from his own, so Love had contriv’d for the better management of this new affair of his heart, which he resolv’d to persue, be the fair object of what sex soever: but after having well enough recommended em to the care of the Merchant he thought it justice to leave em to their rest, tho with abundance of reluctancy. So took his leave of both the Lovely Strangers and went to his own home: and after|<10> a hasty supper got himself up to bed: not to sleep; for now he had other business: Love took him now to task, and ask’d his heart a thousand questions. Then ’twas he found the Idea of that fair unknown had absolute possession there: Nor was he at all displeas’d to find he was a captive; his youth and quality promise his hopes, a thousand advantages above all other men: but when he reflected on the Beauty of Philander, on his Charming youth and Conversation, and every Grace that adorns a Conqueror, he grew inflam’d, disorder’d, restless, angry, and out of Love with his own attractions; consider’d every Beauty of his own person, and found ’em, or at least thought ’em infinitely short of those of his now Fancy’d Rival; yet ’twas a Rival that he cou’d not hate, nor did his|<11> passion abate one thought of his Friendship for Phillander, but rather more increas’d it, insomuch that he once resolv’d it shou’d surmount his Love if possible, at least he left it on the upper hand, till time shou’d make a better discovery. When tir’d with thought we’l suppose him a sleep, and see how our Lovers far’d. Who being lodg’d all on one Stair Case (that is, Phillander, Silvia, and Brilljard) it was not hard for the Lover to steal into the longing Arms of the expecting Silvia; no fatigues of tedious journeys, and little voyages, had a bated her fondness, or his vigour; the night was like the first, all joy! all transport! Brilljard lay so near as to be a witness to all their sighs of Love, and little soft murmurs, who now began from a servant to be permitted as an humble com-|<12>panion; since he had had the Honour of being marry’d to Silvia though yet he durst not lift his eyes or thoughts that way: yet it might be perceiv’d he was melancholy and sullen, when e’re he saw their daliances, nor cou’d he know the joys his Lord nightly stole, without an impatience, which, if but minded or known, perhaps had cost him his life: he began, from the thoughts she was his wife, to fancy fine injoyment, to fancy Authority which he durst not assume. And often wisht his Lord wou’d grow cold as possessing Lovers do; that then he might advance his hope, when he shou’d ever abandon or slight her: he cou’d not see her kist without blushing with resentment; but if he has assisted to undress him for her Bed, he was ready to dy|<13> with anger, and wou’d grow sick, and leave the office to himself, he cou’d not see her naked charmes, her armes stretcht out to receive a Lover, with impatient joy, without Madness. To see her clasp him fast, when he threw himself into her soft, white bosom, and smother him with kisses: No, he cou’d not bear it now, and almost lost his respect when he beheld it, and grew sawcy unperceiv’d. And ’twas in vain that he look’d back upon the reward he had to stand for that necessary Cypher a Husband, in vain he consider’d the reasons why, and the occasion wherefore; he now seeks presidents of usurp’d dominion, and thinks she is his Wife, and has forgot that he’s her creature, and Philander’s Vassal. These thoughts disturb’d him all the night, and|<14> a certain jealousie, or rather curiosity to listen to every motion of the Lovers, While they were imploy’d after a different manner.
Next day it was debated what was best to be done, as to their conduct in that place: or whether Silvia shou’d yet own her Sex or not; but she, pleas’d with the Cavalier in her self: beg’d she might live under that disguise. Which indeed gave her a thousand charmes to those which Nature had already bestow’d on her Sex; and Philander was well enough pleas’d she shou’d continue in that agreeable dress, which did not only add to her beauty, but gave her a thousand little Priviledges, which otherwise wou’d have been deny’d to Women, though in a Country of much Freedom. Every day she apear’d in the Toure,* she fail’d|<15> not to make a conquest on some unguarded heart of the fair Sex, not was it long ere she receiv’d Billets Deux from most of the most accomplish’d who cou’d speak and write French. This gave them a pleasure in the midst of their unlucky exile; and she fail’d not to boast her conquests to Octavio, who every day gave all his hours to Love, under the disguise of Friendship, and every day receiv’d new wounds, both from her conversation and beauty, and every day confirm’d him more in his first belief, that she was a Woman: and that confirm’d his Love. But still he took care to hid his passion with a gallantry, that was natural to him, and to very few besides; and he manag’d his eyes, which were always full of Love, so equally to both, that when he was soft and fond it|<16> appear’d more his natural humour, than from any particular cause, and that you may believe that all the arts of gallantry, and graces of good management were more peculiarly his, than anothers, his Race was illustrious, being descended from that of the Princes of Orange,* and great birth will shine through, and shew it self in spight of education and obscurity, but Octavio had all those additions that render a man truly great and brave; and this is the character of him that was next undone by our unfortunate and fatal Beauty. At this rate for sometime they liv’d thus disguis’d under feign’d names. Octavio omitting nothing that might oblige ’em in the highest degree, and hardly any thing was talk’d of but the new and beautiful Strangers, whose conquests in all places over|<17> the Ladies are well worthy, both for their rarity and comody,* to be related intirely by themselves in a Novel.* Octavio every day saw with abundance of pleasure the little revenges of Love, on those Womens hearts who had made before little conquests over him, and strove by all the gay presents he made a young Fillmond (for so they call’d Silvia,) to make him appear unresistible to the Ladies, and while Silvia gave ’em new wounds, Octavio fail’d not to receive ’em too among the crow’d, till at last he became a confirm’d slave, to the lovely unknown; and that which was yet more strange, she captivated the Men no less than the Women, who often gave her Serinades under her Window, with Songs fitted to the Courtship of a Boy, all which added to|<18> their diversion: but fortune had smil’d long enough, and now grew weary of obliging, she was resolv’d to undeceive both Sexes, and let ’em see the Errors of their love; for Silvia fell into a Feaver so violent, that Phillander no longer hop’d for her recovery, inso much that she was oblig’d to own her Sex, and take Women Servants out of decency, this made the first discovery of who and what they were, and for which every body languisht under a secret grief. But Octavio who now was not only confirm’d she was a Woman, but that she was neither Wife to Phillander, nor cou’d in almost all possibility ever be so: That she was his Mistress, gave him hope that she might one day as well be conquer’d by him; and he found her youth, her Beauty, and her quality, merited all his pains of la-|<19>vish Courtship: And now there remains no more than the fear of her dying to oblige him immediately to a discovery of his passion, too violent now by his new hope to be longer conceal’d, but decency forbids he shou’d now pursue the dear design; he waited and made Vows for her recovery; visited her, and found Phillander the most deplorable object that despair and love cou’d render him, who lay eternally weeping on her bed, and no Counsel or perswasion cou’d remove him thence; but if by chance they made him sensible ’twas for her repose, he wou’d depart to ease his mind by new torments, he wou’d rave and tear his delicate hair, sigh and weep upon Octavio’s bosome, and a thousand times begin to unfold the story already known to
Octavio to Phillander.
My Lord,
I had rather dy then be the ungrateful messenger of news, which I am sensible will prove too fatal to you, and which will be best exprest in fewest words, ’tis decreed that you must retire from the United Provinces in Four and Twenty hours, if you will save a life that is dear to me and Silvia, there being no other security against your being render’d up to the King of France. Support it well, and hope all things from the assistance of,
Your Octavio.
From the Council,
Wednesday.|<23>
Philander having finisht the reading of this, remain’d a while wholly without life or motion, when coming to himself, he sigh’d and cryd, —— Why —— farewell trifling life —— If of the two extreames one must be chosen, rather than I’le abandon Silvia, I’le stay and be deliver’d up a Victim to incensed France —— ’Tis but a life —— At best I never Valu’d thee —— And now I scorn to preserve thee at the Price of Silvias teares! Then taking a hasty turn or two about his chamber, he pawsing cryd —— But by my stay I ruine both Silvia and my self, her life depends on mine; and ’tis impossible hers can be preserv’d when mine is in danger, by retiring I shall shortly again be blest with her sight in a more safe security; by staying I resign my self poor-|<24>ly to be made a publick scorn to France, and the cruell Murderer of Silvia; now, ’twas after an hundred turns and pawses, intermixt with sighs and raveings, that he resolv’d for both their safeties to retire, and having a while longer debated within himself how, and where; and a little time ruminated on his hard persuing fate, grown to a calm of grief (less easy to be born than rage) he hastes to Silvia, whom he found something more cheerful than before, but dares not aquaint her with the commands he had to depart —— But silently he views her, while tears of Love and grief glide unperceivably
Phillander to Octavio.
I know, my Lord, that the Exercise of Vertue and Justice is so innate to your soul, and fixt to the very Principle of a generous Commonwealths man,* that|<26> where those are in competition, ’tis neither birth, wealth, or Glorious merit, that can render the unfortunate condemn’d by you, worthy of your pity or pardon: your very Sons and fathers fall before your justice, and ’tis crime enough to offend, (tho innocently,) the least of your wholesom laws, to fall under the extremity of their rigor. I’m not ignorant neither how flourishing this necessary Tyranny, this lawful oppression, renders your State; how safe and glorious, how secure from Enemies at home, (those worst of foes) and how fear’d by those abroad; pursue then, Sir, your justifiable method, and still be high and mighty, retain your ancient Roman vertue, and still be great as Rome her self in her height of glorious Commonwealths; rule your stubborn Natives by her excellent|<27> examples, and let the height of your ambition be only to be as severely just, as rigidly good as you please; but like her too, be pitiful to Strangers, and dispence a Noble Charity to the distress’d, compassionate a poor wandring young Man, who flies to you for refuge, lost to his Native home, lost to his fame, his fortune, and his Friends; and has only left him the knowledge of his innocence to support him from falling on his own Sword, to end an unfortunate life, persu’d every where, and safe no where, a Life whose only refuge is Octavio’s goodness; nor is it barely to preserve this life that I have recourse to that only as my Sanctuary; and like an humble Slave implore your pity: Oh, Octavio pity my Youth, and interceed for my stay yet a little longer, Your self|<28> makes one of the illustrious number of the Grave, the Wise and mighty Councel, your Unkle and Relations make up another considerable part of it, and you are too dear to all, to find a refusal of your just and compassionate application. Oh! what fault have I committed against you, that I shou’d not find a safety here as well as those charg’d with the same Crime with me, tho of less quality? Many I have incounter’d here of our unlucky party; who find a safety among you; is my birth a Crime? Or does the greatness of that augment my guilt? Have I broken any of your Laws, committed any outrage? Do they suspect me for a spie to France? Or do I hold any Correspondence with that ungrateful Nation? Does my Religion, Principle, or Opinion differ from yours? Can I|<29> design the subversion of your Glorious State? Can I plot, cabal, or mutiny alone? Oh charge me with some offence, or your selves of injustice. Say, why am I deny’d my length of earth amongst you, if I dy? Or why to breath the open Air, if I live, since I shall neither oppress the one, nor infect the other; but on the contrary am ready with my sword, my youth and Blood to serve you, and bring my little aids on all occasions to yours: and shou’d be proud of the Glory to dy for you in Battle, who wou’d deliver me up a Sacrifice to France. Oh! where Octavio, is the glory or vertue of this Punctilio,* for ’tis no other? There are no Laws that bind you to it, no obligatory Article of Nations, but an unnecessary complyment made a nemine contradicente* of your Senate, that argues nothing|<30> but ill nature, and cannot redound to any one’s advantage. An Ill nature that’s levell’d at me alone; for many I found here, and many shall leave under the same circumstances with me; ’tis only me whom you have mark’d out the victime to atone for all: Well then, my Lord, if nothing can move you to a safety for this unfortunate, at least be so merciful to suspend your cruelty a little, yet a little, and possible I shall render you the body of Phillander, tho dead, to send into France, as the trophy of your fidelity to that Crown: Oh yet a little stay your cruel sentence, till my lovely Sister, who persu’d my hard fortunes, declare my Fate by her life or death: Oh, my Lord, if ever the soft passion of Love have touch’d your soul, if you have felt the unresistable force of young charms about your heart,|<31> if ever you have known a pain and pleasure from fair eyes, or the transporting Joyes of Beauty, Pity a youth undone by Love and ambition, those powerful conquerours of the young —— Pity, oh Pity a youth that dies, and will ere long no more complain upon your Rigours. Yes, my Lord, he dies without the force of a terrifying Sentence, without the grim reproaches of an angry Judg, without the soon consulted Arbitrary —— Guilty! of a severe and hasty Jury, without the ceremony of the Scaffol’d, Ax, and Hang man, and the clamours of inconsidering Crowds. All which melancholy ceremonies render death so terrible, which else wou’d fall like gentle slumbers upon the eye-lids. And which in field I wou’d incounter with that joy I wou’d the sacred thing I Love! But oh,|<32> I fear my fate is in the lovely Silvia, and in her dying eyes you may read it, in her languishing face you’le see how near it is approacht. Ah! will you not suffer me to attend it there? by her dear side I shall fall as calmly as flowers from their stalks, without regret or pain: Will you, by forcing me to dy from her, run me to a madness? To wild distraction? Oh think it sufficient that I dy here before half my race of youth be run, before the light be half burnt out, that might have conducted me to a world of Glory! Alas, she dies —— The Lovely Silvia dies; she is sighing out a soul to which mine is so intirely fixt, that they must go upward together. Yes, yes, she breaths it sick into my bosom, and kindly gives mine its disease of death; let us at least then dy|<33> in silent, quitted; and if it please Heaven to restore the languish’d Charmer, I will resign my self up to all your Rigorous honour, only let me bear my treasure with me, while we wander o’re the world to seek us out a safety in some part of it, where pity and compassion is no crime. Where men have tender hearts, and have heard of the God of Love; where Politicks are not all the business of the powerful, but where civility and good nature reign.
Perhaps, my Lord, you’l wonder I plead no weightier Argument for my stay than Love, or the griefs and tears of a languishing Maid: But, oh! they are such tears as every drop wou’d ransom lives, and nothing that proceeds from her charming eyes can be valu’d at a less rate! In Pity to her, to me, and your Amo-|<34>rous youths, let me bear her hence. For shou’d she look abroad as her own Sex, shou’d she appear in her natural and proper beauty, alas they were undone. Reproach not (my Lord) the weakness of this confession, and which I make with more Glory than cou’d I boast my self Lord of all the Universe: if it appear a fault to the more grave and wise, I hope my youth will plead something for my excuse. Oh say, at least, ’twas Pity that Love had the ascendant over Phillanders soul, say ’twas his Destiny, but say withal, that it put no stop to his advance to Glory; rather it set an edg upon his Sword, and gave wings to his ambition! —— Yes, try me in your Councells, prove me in your Camps, place me in any hazard —— But give me Love! and leave me to wait the life or|<35> death of Silvia, and then dispose as you please,
My Lord,
Of Your unfortunate, Philander.
Octavio to Philander.
My Lord,
I am much concern’d, that a Request so reasonable as you have made, will be of so little force with these arbitrary Tyrants of State, and tho you have addrest and appeal’d to me as one of that grave and rigid number, (tho without one grain of their formalities, and I hope age, which renders us less Gallant, and more envious of the joys and liberties of|<36> youth, will never reduce me to so dull and thoughtless a Member of State) yet I have so small and single a portion of their power, that I’m asham’d of my incapacity of serving you in this great affair. I bear the Honour and the name, ’tis true, of Glorious sway; but I can boast but of the worst and most impotent part of it, the Title only; but the busie, absolute, mischievious Politician finds no room in my Soul, my humour, or constitution: And Plodding restless power I have made so little the business of my gayer, and more careless youth, that I have even lost my right of rule; my share of Empire amongst them. That little power (whose unregarded losse I never bemoan’d till it render’d me incapable of serving Philander,) I have stretch’d to the utmost bound for your stay; insomuch|<37> that I have receiv’d many reproaches from the wiser Coxcombs,* have had my youth’s little debauches hinted on, and Judgments made of you (disadvantagious) from my Friendship to you; a Friendship, which, my Lord, at first sight of you, found a being in my soul, and which your wit, your goodness, your greatness, and your misfortunes has improv’d to all the degrees of it: Tho I’m infinitely unhappy that it proves of no use to you here, and that the greatest testimony I can now render of it, is to warn you of your aproaching danger. And hasten your departure, for there is no safety in your stay. I just now heard what was decreed against you in councel, which no pleading nor Eloquence of Friendship had force enough to evade. Alass, I had but one single voyce in the number,|<38> which I sullenly and singly gave, and which unregarded past. Go then, my Lord, hast to some place where good breeding and humanity reigns. Go and preserve Silvia, in providing for your own safety; and believe me, till she be in a Condition to pursue your Fortunes, I will take such care that nothing shall be wanting, either to recovery here, in order to her following after you. I am, alas but too sensible of all the pains you must indure by such a separation, for I am neither insensible, nor uncapable of love, or any of its violent effects: Go then, my Lord, and preserve the lovely Maid in your flight, since your stay and danger will serve but to hasten on her death: Go and be satisfied she shall find a protection sutable to|<39> her Sex, her innocence, her Beauty, and her quality, and that wher-ever you fix your stay, she shall be resign’d to your Arms by my Lord,
Your Eternal Friend
and humble Servant,
Octavio.
Lest in this sudden remove you shou’d want Mony, I have sent you several Bills of Exchange to what place soever you arrive, and what you want more (make no scruple to use me as a friend and) command.
After this Letter, finding no hopes; but on the contrary a dire necessity of departing, he told Briljard his misfortune, and ask’d his Counsel in this extremity of affairs. Brilljard (who of a Servant was become|<40> a Rival) you may believe, gave him such advice as might remove him from the object he ador’d. But after a great deal of dissembl’d trouble, the better to hide his joy, he gave his advice for his going, with all the arguments that appear’d reasonable enough to Phillander. And at every period urg’d, that his life being dear to Silvia, and on which hers so immediately depended, he ought no longer to debate, but haste his flight, to all which councell our Amorous Hero, with a soul ready to make its way thro’ his trembling body, gave a sighing unwilling assent. ’Twas now no longer a dispute, but was concluded he must go, but how was only the question. How shou’d he take his farewell, how shou’d he bid adieu, and leave the dear object of his soul in an estate to* hazardous,|<41> he form’d a thousand sad Ideas to torment himself with; fancying he shou’d never see her more, that he shou’d hear that she was dead, thou now she appear’d on this side the Grave, and had all the signs of a declining disease. He fancy’d absence might make her cold, and abate her passion to him, that her powerful beauty might attract adorers, and she being but a Woman, and no part Angel, but her form, ’twas not expected she shou’d want her Sex’s frailties. Now he cou’d consider how he had won her, how by importunity and opportunity she had at last yielded to him, and therefore might to some new Gamster, when he was not by to keep her heart in continual play: Then ’twas that all the despair of jealous love, the throbs and piercing of a violent passion seiz’d his timorous and|<42> tender heart, he fancy’d her already in some new Lovers Arms, and ran o’re all these soft enjoyments he had had with her; and fancy’d with tormenting thought, that so another wou’d possess her; till rackt with tortures, he almost fainted on the Repose on which he was set: But Brilljard rous’d and indeavour’d to convince him: Told him he hop’d his fear was needless, and that he wou’d take all the watchful care imaginable of her conduct, be a spy upon her vertue, and from time to time give him notice of all that shou’d pass: Bid him consider her quality, and that she was no common Mistriss whom hire cou’d lead astray; and that if from the violence of her passion, or her more severe fate she had yeilded to the most Charming of men, he ought as little to imagine she cou’d be|<43> again a Lover, as that she cou’d find an object of equal beauty with that of Phillander. In fine, he sooth’d and Flatter’d him into so much ease, that he resolves to take his leave for a day or two under pretence of meeting and consulting with some of the rebell party; and that he wou’d return again to her by that time it might be imagin’d her feaver might be abated, and Silvia in a condition to receive the news of his being gone for a longer time, and to know all his affairs. While Brilljard prepar’d all things necessary for his departure, Phillander went to Silvia. From whom, having been absent two tedious hours; she caught him in her Arms with a transport of joy; reproach’d him with want of Love, for being absent so long. But still the more she spoke soft sighing words of|<44> Love, the more his Soul was seiz’d with melancholy, his sighs redoubl’d, and he cou’d not refrain from leting fall some tears upon her bosom —— Which Silvia perceiving with a look and a trembling in her voyce, that spoke her fear, she cry’d, oh Phillander! these are unusual marks of your tenderness. Oh tell me, tell me quickly what they mean. He answer’d with a sigh, and she went on —— ’Tis so, I am undone, ’tis your lost vows, your broken faith you weep, Yes, Phillander, you find the flower of my beauty faded, and what you lov’d before, you pity now, and these be the effects of it. Then sighing, as if his Soul had been departing on her neck, he cry’d, by heaven, by all the powers of Love, thou art the same dear charmer that thou wert, then pressing|<45> her body to his bosom, he sigh’d a new as if his heart were breaking —— I know (says she) Phillander there’s some hidden cause that gives these sighs their way, and that dear face a paleness. Oh tell me all; for she that cou’d abandon all for thee, can dare the worst of Fate, if thou must quit me —— Oh Philander, if it must be so, I need not stay the lingring death of a feable Feaver: I know a way more noble and more sudden. Pleas’d at her resolution, which all most destroy’d his jealousie and fears, a thousand times he kist her, mixing his grateful words and thanks with sighs, and finding her fair hands (which he put often to his mouth) to increase their fires, and her pulse to be more high and quick, fearing to relapse her into her (abating) feaver, he forc’d a|<46> smile, and told her, he had no griefs, but what she made him feel, no torments but her sickness, nor sighs but for her pain, and left nothing unsaid, that might confirm her he was still more and more her Slave; and concealing his design in favour of her health, he ceas’d not vowing and protesting, till he had settled her in all the tranquillity of a recovering beauty. And, as since her first Illness he had never departed from her Bed, so now this night he strove to appear in her Arms with all that usual Gayety of Love that her condition wou’d permit, or his circumstances cou’d feign, and leaving her a sleep at day-break (with a force upon his Soul that cannot be conceiv’d) but by parting Lovers, he stole from her Arms, and retiring to his chamber|<47> he soon got himself ready for his flight and departed. We will leave Silvia’s ravings to be exprest by none but her self, and tell you that after about Fourteen days absence Octavio receiv’d this Letter from Philander:
Phillander to Octavio.
Being safely arriv’d at Collen,* and by a very pretty and lucky adventure lodg’d in the house of the best quallity in the Town, I find my self much more at ease than I thought it possible to be without Silvia, from whom I am nevetheless impatient to hear. I hope absence appears not so great a Bugbear to her as ’twas imagin’d. For I know not what effects it wou’d|<48> have on me to hear her griefs exceeded a few sighs and tears. Those my kind absence has taught me to allow and bear without much pain, but shou’d her Love transport her to extreams of rage and despair, I fear I shou’d quit my safety here, and give her the last proof of my Love and my compassion, throw my self at her Feet, and expose my life to preserve hers. Honour wou’d oblige me to’t. I conjure you, my dear Octavio, by all the Friendship you have vow’d me, (and which I no longer doubt) let me speedily know how she bears my absence, for on that knowledg depends a great deal of the satisfaction of my life; carry her this inclos’d which I have writ her, and soften my silent departure, which possibly may appear rude and unkind, plead my pardon, and give her the story of my necessity of offending, which none can so well relate as your self. And from a mouth so eloquent to a Maid so full of Love, will soon reconcile me to her heart. With her Letter I send you a Bill to pay her 2000 Patacons,* which I have paid Vander Hanskin here, as his Letter will inform you, as also those Bills I receiv’d of you at my departure, having been supply’d by an English Merchant here, who gave me credit. ’Twill be an Age, till I hear from you, and receive the news of the health of Silvia. Than which two blessings nothing will be more welcome to,
Generous Octavio,
Your PHILANDER.
Collen
Direct your Letters for me to your Merchant Vander Hanskin.|<50>
Philander to Silvia.
There is no way left to gain my Silvia’s pardon for leaving her, and leaving her in such circumstances, but to tell her ’twas to preserve a life, which I believ’d intirely dear to her, but that unhappy crime is too severely punisht by the cruelties of my absence. Believe me, Lovely Silvia, I have felt all your pains, I have burnt with your fever, and sigh’d with your oppressions; Say, has my pain abated yours? Tell me! and hasten my health by the assurance of your recovery, or I have fled in vain from those dear Arms to save my life, of which I know not what account to give you, till I receive from you the|<51> knowledg of your perfect health, the true state of mine. I can only say I sigh, and have a sort of a being in Collen, where I have some more assurance of protection than I cou’d hope I from those int’rested Bruits,* who sent me from you; yet Bruitish as they are, I know thou art safe from their Clownish outrages. For were they senseless as their Fellow-Monsters of the sea, they durst not profane so pure an excellence as thine; the sullen Boors wou’d jouder* out a wellcom to thee, and gape, and wonder at thy awful beauty, tho they want the tender sense to know, to what use ’twas made. Or if I doubted their Humanity, I cannot the Friendship of Octavio, since he has given me too good a proof of it to leave me any fear, that he has not in my absence pursu’d|<52> those generous sentiments for Silvia which he vow’d to Philander, and of which the first proof must be his relating the necessity of my absence, to set me well with my adorable Maid. Who, better than I, can inform her: and that I rather chose to quit you only for a short space, than reduce my self to the necessity of losing you eternally. Let the satisfaction this ought to give you, retrieve your health and beauty, and put you into a condition of restoring to me all my joys. That by pursuing the dictates of your Love, you may again bring the greatest happyness on earth to the Arms of
Your PHILANDER.
My affairs here are yet so unsettl’d, that I can take no order for|<53> your coming to me but, as soon as I know where I can fix with safety, I shall make it my business and my happyness: Adieu. Trust Octavio with your Letters only.
This Letter Octavio wou’d not carry himself to her, who had omitted no day, scarce any hour, wherein he saw not or sent not to the charming Silvia, but he found in that which Philander had writ to him, an Aire of coldness altogether unusual with that passionate Lover, and infinitely short in ’ of tenderness to those he had formerly seen of his, and from what he had heard him speak; so that he no longer doubted (and the rather because he hop’d it) but that Philander found an abatement of that heat, which was wont to inspire at a more Amorous rate; this appearing de-|<54>clension he cou’d not conceal from Silvia, at least to let her know he took notice of it; for he knew her Love was too quick-sighted and sensible to pass it unregarded, but he with reason thought, that when she shou’d find others observe the little slight she had put on her, her pride (which is natural to women in such cases) wou’d decline and lessen her Love for his Rival. He therefore sent his Page with the Letters inclos’d in this from himself.
Octavio to Silvia.
Madam,
From a little necessary debauch I made last night with the Prince, I’m forc’d to imploy my Page in those duties I ought to have perform’d my self: He brings you, Madam, a Letter from|<55> Philander, as mine, which I have also sent you informes me; I shou’d else have doubted it; ’tis, I think, his character, and all he says of Octavio confesses the Friend, but where he speaks of Silvia sure he disguises the Lover: I wonder the mask shou’d be put on now to me, to whom before he so frankly discover’d the secrets of his Amorous heart. ’Tis a mistery I wou’d fain perswade my self he finds absolutely necessary to his interest, and I hope you will make the same favorable constructions of it, and not impute the lessen’d zeal wherewith he treats the charming Silvia to any possible change or coldness, since I am but too fatally sensible, that no man can arrive at the Glory of being belov’d by you, that had ever power to shorten one link of that dear|<56> chain that holds him, and you need but survey that adorable face, to confirm your tranquillitie; set a just value on your charmes, and you need no arguments to secure your everlasting Empire, or to establish it in what heart you please, this fatal truth I learnt from your fair eyes, e’re they discover’d to me your Sex, and you may as soon change to what I then believ’d you, as I from adoring what I now find you; if all then, Madam, that do but look on you become your Slaves, and languish for you, love on, even without hope, and die, what must Phillander pay you, who has the mighty blessing of your Love, your Vows, and all that renders the hours of amorous Youth sacred, glad, and Triumphant? But you know the conquering power of|<57> your charmes too well to need either this daring confession, or a defence of Phillander’s vertue from,
Madam,
Your obedient Slave,
Octavio.
Silvia had no sooner read this with blushes, and a thousand fears, and trembling of what was to follow in Phillander’s Letters both to Octavio and to her self, but with an Indignation agreeable to her haughty Soul, she cry’d —— How —— slighted! and must Octavio see it too: By Heaven, if I shou’d find it true, he shall not dare to think it; then with a generous rage she broke open Phillander’s, Letter; and which she soon perceiv’d did but too well prove the truth of Octavio’s|<58> suspition, and her own fears. She repeated it again and again, and still she found more cause of grief and anger; Love occasion’d the first, and Pride the last: And, to a Soul perfectly haughty, as was that of Silvia, ’twas hard to guess which had the ascendant: She consider’d Octavio to all the advantages that thought cou’d conceive in one who was not a Lover of him; she knew he merited a heart tho she had none to give him; she found him charming without having a tenderness for him, she found him young and amorous without desire towards him; she found him great, rich, powerful, and generous, without designing on him, and tho she knew her Soul free from all Passion, but that for Philander; nevertheless she blusht and was angry, that he had thoughts|<59> no more advantagious to the power of those charmes, which she wisht might appear to him above her Sex: it being natural to Women to desire Conquests, tho they hate the conquer’d; to glory in the tryumph, tho they despise the Slave. And believ’d, while Octavio had so poor a sense of her beauty as to believe it cou’d be forsaken, he would adore it less; And first to satisfy her pride, she left the softer business of her heart to the next tormenting hour, and sent him this careless answer by his Page, believing, if she appear’d too angry it might look as if she valu’d his opinion, and therefore dissembled her thoughts, as women in those cases ever do, who when most angry seem the most Galliard,* especially when they have need of the friendship of those they flatter.|<60>
Silvia to Octavio.
Is it indeed Octavio, that you believe Philander cold, or wou’d you make that a pretext to the declaration of your own passion, ee French Ladies are not so nicely ty’d up to the formalities of vertue, but we can hear Love at both ears, and if we receive not the addresses of both, at least we are perhaps vain enough not to be displeas’d to find we make new conquests. But you have made your attacque with so ill conduct, that I shall find force enough without more aids to repulse you. Alas, my Lord! did you believe my heart was left unguarded when Philander departed? No, the careful charming Lover left a thousand
How poorly have you paid your self, my Lord, (by this pursuit of your discover’d Love) for all the little friendship you have rendred me? How well you have explain’d, you can be no more a Lover than a Friend, if one may judg the first by the last: Had you been thus obstinate in your passion before|<62> Philander went, or you had believ’d me abandon’d, I should perhaps have thought that you had lov’d indeed, because I should have seen you durst, and should have believ’d it true, because it ran some hazards for me, the resolution of it would have reconcil’d me then to the temerity of it, and the greatest demonstration you cou’d have given of it, woud have been the danger you wou’d have ran and contemned; and the preferance of your passion above any other consideration. This, my Lord, had been generous, and like a Lover, but poorly thus to set upon a single Woman in the disguise of a Friend, in the dark silent melancholy hour of absence from Philander, then to surprise me, then to bid me deliver! to pad for hearts! It is not like Octavio. That Octavio, Philander made his Friend, and for|<63> whose dear sake, my Lord, I will no further reproach you, but from a goodness, which, I hope, you will merit, I will forgive an offence, which your ill timing has render’d almost inexcusable; and expect you will for the future consider better how you ought to treat
SYLVIA.
As soon as she had dismist the Page, she hasted to her business of Love, and again read over Philanders Letter, and finds still new occasion for fear, she had recourse to pen and paper for a relief of that heart which no other way cou’d find it; and after, having wip’d the tears from her eyes, she writ this following Letter.|<64>
Silvia to Philander.
Yes Philander, I have receiv’d your Letter, and but I found my name there, shou’d have hop’d it twas not meant for Silvia: Oh! ’tis all cold —— Short —— Short and cold as a dead Winters day. It chill’d my blood, it shiver’d every vein. Where, oh where hast thou lavish’d out all those soft words so natural to thy Soul, with which thou us’d to charm; so tun’d to the dear musick of thy voice? What is become of all the tender things, which, as I us’d to read, made little nimble pantings in my heart, my blushes rise, and tremblings in my bloud, adding new fire to the poor burning Victim! Oh where are all thy pretty flatteries of Love, that made me fond, and vain, and set a value on this trifling Beauty? Hast|<65> thou forgot thy wondrous Art of loving? Thy pretty cunings, and thy soft deceivings? Hast thou forgot ’em all? Or hast thou forgot indeed to love at all? Has thy industrious passion gather’d all the sweets, and left the rifled flower to hang its wither’d head, and die in shades neglected? for who will prize it now, now when all its perfumes fled. Oh my Philander, oh my charming Fugitive! wast not enough, you left me, like false Theseus,* on the shore, on the forsaken shore, departed from my fond, my clasping Arms; where I believ’d you safe, secure and pleas’d; when sleep and night, that favour’d you and ruin’d me, had render’d ’em incapable of their dear loss? Oh was it not enough, that when I found ’em empty and abandon’d, and the place cold where you had lain, and my poor trembling bosom un-|<66>possest of that dear load it bore, that I almost expired with my first fears; Oh, if Philander lov’d, he wou’d have thought that cruelty enough, without the sad addition of a growing coldness: I wak’d, I mist thee, and I call’d aloud, Philander! my Philander! But no Philander heard; then drew the close drawn Curtains, and with a hasty and busie view, survey’d the Chamber over, but Oh! in vain I view’d, and call’d yet louder, but none appear’d to my assistance but Antonet and Briljard to torture me with dull excuses, urging a thousand feign’d and frivolous reasons to satisfie my fears: But I, who lov’d, who doated even to madness, by nature soft, and timerous as a Dove, and fearful as a Criminal escap’d, that dreads each little noise, fancy’d their eyes and guilty looks confest the treasons of|<67> their hearts and tongues, while they, more kind than true, strove to convince my killing doubts: Protested, that you would return by night, and feign’d a likely story to deceive. Thus between hope and fear I languisht out a day, Oh Heavens! A tedious day without Philander, who wou’d have thought, that such a dismal day shou’d not, with the end of its reign have finish’d that of my life, but then Octavio came to visit me, and who till then I never wisht to see, but now I was impatient for his coming, who by degrees told me that you were gone —— I never ask’d him where, or how, or why, that you were gone was enough to possess me of all I fear’d, your being apprehended and sent into France, your delivering your self up, your abandoning me; all, all I had an easie faith for, without|<68> consulting more than That, Thou wert gone, —— that very word yet strikes a terrour to my Soul, disables my trembling hand, and I must wait for reinforcements from some kinder thoughts. But, Oh! from whence shou’d they arrive? from what dear present felicity, or prospect of a future, tho never so distant, and all those past ones, serve but to increase my pain; they favour me no more, they charm and please no more, and only present themselves to my memory to compleat the number of my sighs and tears, and make me wish that they had never been, tho even with Philander! Oh, say, thou Monarch of my panting Soul, how hast thou treated Silvia, to make her wish that she had never known a tender joy with thee? Is’t possible she shou’d repent her loving thee, and thou shou’dst give|<69> her cause! Say, dear false Charmer, is it? But O, there is no lasting Faith in sin! —— Ah —— What have I done? How dreadful is the Scene of my first debauch, and how glorious that never to be regain’d prospect of my Virgin innocence, where I sat inthron’d in awful vertue, crown’d with shining honour, and adorn’d with unsullied reputation, till thou, O Tyrant Love! with a charming usurpation invaded all my glories; and which I resign’d with greater pride and joy than a young Monarch puts ’em on. Oh, why then do I repent? as if the vast, the dear expence of pleasures past were not enough to recompence for all the pains of Love to come? But why, O why do I treat thee as a Lover lost already. Thou art not, canst not, no, Ile not believe it, till thou thy self confess it. Nor shall the|<70> omission of a tender word or two make me believe thou hast forgot thy vows. Alas, it may be I mistake thy cares, thy hard fatigues of Life, thy presant ill circumstances (and all the melancholy effects of thine and my mMisfortunes) for coldness and declining Love. Alas, I had forgot my poor, my dear Philander is now oblig’d to contrive for Life, as well as Love; thou perhaps (fearing the worst) art preparing Eloquence for a Council Table, and in thy busie and guilty imaginations haranguing it to the grave Judges, defending thy innocence, or evading thy guilt: Feeing Advocates, excepting Juries, and confronting Witnesses, when thou shou’dst be giving satisfaction to my fainting love-sick heart: Sometimes in thy labouring fancy the horrour of a dreadful Sentence for an ignominious death|<71> strikes upon thy tender Soul with a force that frights the little God from thence, and I’m perswaded there are some moments of this melancholy nature, wherein your Silvia is even quite forgotten, and this too she can think just and reasonable, without reproaching thy heart with a declining passion, especially when I am not by to call thy fondness up, and divert thy more tormenting hours: But Oh, for those soft minutes thou hast design’d for Love, and hast dedicated to Silvia, Philander shou’d dismiss the dull formalities of rigid business, the pressing cares of dangers, and have given a loose to softness. Cou’d my Philander imagine this short and unloving Letter sufficient to atone for such an absence? And has Philander then forgotten the pain with which I languish’d, when but absent from him an hour? how|<72> then can he imagine I can live, when distant from him so many Leagues, and so many days? while all the scanty comfort I have for life is, that one day we might meet again; but where, or when, or how —— thou hast not love enough so much as to divine; but poorly leavest me to be satisfied by Octavio, committing the business of thy heart, the once great importance of thy Soul, the most necessary devoires* of thy life, to be supply’d by another. Oh Philander, I have known a blessed time in our reign of Love, when thou wou’dst have thought even all thy own power of too little force to satisfy the doubting Soul of Silvia: Tell me, Philander, hast thou forgot that time? I dare not think thou hast, and yet (O God) I find an alteration, but Heaven divert the Omen: yet something whispers to my Soul,|<73> I am undone! Oh, where art thou, my Philander? Where’s thy heart? And what has it been doing since it begun my Fate? How can it justifie thy coldness, and thou this cruel absence, without accounting with me for every parting hour? My Charming Dear was wont to find me business for all my lonely absent ones; and writ the softest Letters —— Loading the Paper with fond Vows and Wishes, which e’re I had read o’re another wou’d arrive, to keep Eternal warmth about my Soul; nor wert thou ever wearied more with writing, than I with reading, or with sighing after thee; but now —— Oh! There’s some Mystery in’t I dare not understand. Be kind at least and satisfie my fears, for ’tis a wonderous pain to live in doubt; if thou still lov’st me, swear it|<74> o’re a new! and curse me if I do not credit thee. But —— if thou art declining —— or shou’dst be sent a shameful Victim into France —— Oh thou deceiving Charmer, yet be just, and let me know my Doom: By Heaven this last will find a welcome to me, for it will end the torment of my doubts, and fears of losing thee another way, and I shall have the Joy to dye with thee, dye belov’d, and dye
Thy SILVIA.
Having read over this Letter, she fear’d she had said too much of her doubts and apprehensions of a change in him; for now she flies to all the little Stratagems and artifices of Lovers, she begins to consider the worst, and to make the best of that; but quite abandon’d she cou’d not believe|<75> her self, without flying into all the rage that disappointed Women cou’d be possest with, she calls Briljard shews him his Lords Letters, and told him (while he read) her doubts and fears; he being thus instructed by her self in the way how to deceive her on, like Fortunetellers who gather peoples Fortune from themselves and then return it back for their own Divinity; tells her he saw indeed a change! glad to improve her fear, and feigns a sorrow almost equal to hers: ’Tis evident, says he, ’Tis evident, that he’s the most ungrateful of his Sex! Pardon, Madam (continued he, bowing) If my Zeal for the most Charming Creature on Earth make me forget my duty to the best of Masters and Friends. Ah Brilljard, cry’d she, with an Air of languishment that more inflam’d|<76> him, have a care, least that mistaken Zeal for me shou’d make you prophane a Vertue, which has not, but on this occasion, shew’d that it wanted Angels for its guard. Oh Brilljard, if he be false —— If the dear Man be perjur’d, take, take, kind Heaven! the life you have preserv’d but for a greater proof of your revenge —— And at that word she sunk into his Arms, which he hastily extended as she was falling, both to save her from harm and to give himself the pleasure of grasping the lovely’st body in the World to his Bosome, on which her fair face declin’d cold, dead and pale, but so transporting was the pleasure of that dear burden, that he forgot to call for, or to use any aid to bring her back to life, but trembling with his love and eager passion he took a thousand joys,|<77> he kist a thousand times her Lukewarm lips, suckt her short sighs, and ravisht all the sweets her Bosome (which was but guarded with a loose Night Gown) yielded his impatient touches. Oh, Heaven, who can express the pleasures he receiv’d, because no other way he ever cou’d arrive to so much daring? ’twas all beyond his hope, loose were her Robes, insensible the Maid, and love had made him insolent, he rov’d, he kist, he gaz’d, without controul, forgetting all respect of persons, or of place, and quite despairing by fair means to win her, resolves to take this lucky opportunity; the door he knew was fast, for the Counsel she had to ask him admitted of no lookers on, so that at his entrance she had secur’d the pass for him her self, and being near her Bed, when she fell|<78> into his Arms, at this last daring thought he lifts her thither, and lays her gently down, and while he did so, in one Minute ran o’re all the killing joys he had been witness to, which she had given Philander; on which he never paws’d but urg’d by a Cupid altogether malicious and wicked, he resolves his cowardly Conquest, when some kinder God awaken’d Silvia, and brought Octavio to the Chamber door, who having been us’d to a freedom, which was permitted to none but himself with Antonettt her woman, waiting for admittance, after having knockt twice softly, Brilljard heard it, and redoubl’d his disorder, which from that of Love, grew to that of surprise; he knew not what to do, whether to refuse answering, or to re-establish the reviving sense of Silvia; in this mo-|<79>ment of perplexing thought, he fail’d not however to set his hair in order, and adjust him, tho there were no need of it, and steping to the door (after having rais’d Silvia, leaning her head on her hand on the bed side,) he gave admittance to Octavio; but oh Heaven, how was he surpriz’d when he saw it was Octavio? his heart with more force than before redoubl’d its beats, that one might easily perceive every stroke by the motion of his Cravate, he blusht, which, to a complexion perfectly fair, as that of Briljard (who wants no Beauty, either in face or person) was the more discoverable, add to this his trembling, and you may easily imagine what a fuger* he represented himself to Octavio: Who almost as much surpriz’d as himself to find the Goddess of his Vows and Devo-|<80>tions with a young Endimion* a lone, a door shut too, her Gown loose (which from the late fit she was in and Briljards rape upon her Bosom) was still open, and discover’d a World of unguarded Beauty, which she knew not was in view, with some other disorders of her head Cloaths, gave him in a moment a thousand false apprehensions, Antonett was no less surpriz’d, so that all had their part of amazement but the innocent Silvia, whose Eyes were beautifi’d with a melancholy calm, which almost set the generous Lover at ease, and took away his new fears, however he cou’d not chuse but ask Briljard what the matter was with him, he lookt so out of countenance, and trembled so, he told him, how Silvia had been, and what extream frights she had possest him with, and told him|<81> the occasion, which the lovely Silvia with her eyes and sighs assented to, and Brilljard departed; how well pleas’d you may imagine, or with what gusto he left her to be with the lovely Octavio, whom he perceiv’d too well was a Lover in the disguise of a Friend. But there are in love those wonderful Lovers who can quench the Fire one Beauty kindles, with some other Object, and as much in Love as Brilljard was he found Antonett an Antidote that dispell’d the grosser part of it; for she was in Love with our Amorous friend, and courted him with that passion those of that Country do almost all handsom Strangers, and one convenient principle of the Religion of that Country is to think it no sin to be kind while they are single Women, tho otherwise (when Wives) they are|<82> just enough, nor does a Woman that manages her affairs thus discreetly meet with any reproach, of this humour was our Antonett who persu’d her Lover out half jealous there might be some amarous intrigue between her Lady and him, which she sought in vain by all the feable Arts of her Countries Sex to get from him, while on the other side, he believing she might be of use in the farther discovery he desir’d to make between Octavio and Silvia; not only told her she her self was the Object of his wishes, but gave her substantial proofs on’t, and told her his design, after having her Honour for security that she wou’d be secret, the best Pledge a man can take of a Woman: After she had promis’d to betray all things to him, she departed to her affairs, and he to giving|<83> his Lord an account of Silvia, as he desir’d, in a Letter which came to him with that of Silvia; and which was thus,
Philander to Briljard.
I doubt not but you will wonder that all this time you have not heard of me, nor indeed can I well excuse it, since I have been in a place, whence with ease I cou’d have sent every Post, but a new affair of Gallantry has engag’d my thoughtful hours, not that I find any passion there that has abated one sigh for Silvia, but a mans hours are very dull, when undiverted by an intrigue of some kind or other, especially to a heart young and gay as mine is, and which would not if possible, bend under the fatigues of more serious thought and business; I shou’d not|<84> tell you this, but that I wou’d have you feign all the dilatory excuses that possible you can to hinder Silvia’s coming to me, while I remain in this Town, where I design to make my abode but a short time, and had not staid at all, but for this stop to my journey, and I scorn to be vanquish’d without taking my revenge, ’tis a sally of Youth, no more —— a flash, that blazes for a while, and will go out with enjoyment. I need not bid you keep this knowledge to your self, for I have had too good a confirmation of your faith and friendship to doubt you now, and believe you have too much respect for Silvia to occasion her any disquiet. I long to know how she takes my absence, send me at large of all that passes, and give your Letters to Octavio, for none else shall know where I am, or how to|<85> send to me: Be careful of Silvia, and observe her with diligence, for possibly I should not be extravagantly afflicted to find she was inclin’d to love me less for her own ease and mine, since Love is troublesome when the height of it carries it to jealousies, little quarrels, and eternal discontents; all which beginning Lovers prize, and pride themselves on every distrust of the fond Mistress, since ’tis not only a demonstration of love in them, but of power and charmes in us that occasion it, but when we no longer find the Mistress so desirable, as our first wishes form her, we value less their opinion of our persons, and only endeavour to render it agreeable to new Beauties, and adorn it for new Conquests, but you Briljard, have been a Lover, and understand already this Philosophy. I need say no more then,|<86> to a man who knows so well my Soul but to tell him I am
His constant Friend
Philander.
This came as Briljards Soul cou’d wish, and had he sent him word he had been chosen King of Poland,* he cou’d not have receiv’d the news with so great joy, and so perfect a welcome. How to manage this to his best advantage was the business he was next to consult, after returning an answer; now he fancied himself sure of the lovely prize, in spight of all other oppositions: For (says he, in reasoning the case) if she can by degrees arrive to a coldness to Philander, and consider him no longer as a Lover, she may perhaps consider me as a Husband, or shou’d she receive Octavio’s addresses, when once I have found|<87> her feable I will make her pay me for keeping of every secret. So either way he entertain’d a hope, tho never so distant from Reason and probability; but all things seem possible to longing Lovers, who can on the least hope resolve to out wait even Eternity (if possible) in expectation of a promis’d blessing, and now with more than usual care he resolv’d to dress and set out all his Youth and Beauty to the best advantage, and being a Gentleman well born, he wanted no Arts of dressing, nor any advantage of shape or Mein, to make it appear well: Pleas’d with this hope, his art was now how to make his advances without appearing to have design’d doing to.* And first to act the Hypocrite with his Lord was his business; for he consider’d rightly, if he should not represent|<88> Silvias sorrows to the life, and appear to make him sensible of ’em, he shou’d not be after be credited if he related any thing to her disadvantage; for to be the greater Enemy you ought to seem to be the greatest Friend. This was the policy of his heart, who in all things was inspir’d with phanatical notions. In order to this, being alone in his Chamber, after the defeat he had in that of Silvia’s, he writ this Letter.
Briljard to Philander.
My Lord,
You have done me the Honour to make me your Confident in an affair that does not a little surprize me: Since I believ’d, after Silvia, no mortal Beauty cou’d have touch’d your heart, and nothing but your own|<89> excuses cou’d have suffic’d to have made it reasonable: and I only wish, that when the fatal news shall arrive to Silvia’s ear (as for me it never shall) that she may think it as pardonable as I do; but I doubt ’twill add abundance of grief, to what she is already possest of, if but such a fear shou’d enter in her tender thoughts. But since ’tis not my business, my Lord, to advise or counsel, but to obey, I leave you to all the success of happy Love, and will only give you an account how affairs stand here, since your departure.
That Morning you left the Brill, and Silvia in Bed, I must disturb your more serene thoughts with telling you, that her first surprise and griefs at the news of your departure were most deplorable, where raging madness and the softer passion of Love,|<90> complaints of grief, and anger, sighs, tears, and cries were so mixt together, and by turns so violently seiz’d her, that all about her wept and pity’d her: ’twas sad, ’twas wonderous sad, my Lord, to see it: Nor cou’d we hope her Life, or that she wou’d preserve it if she cou’d, for by many ways she attempted to have releas’d her self from pain by a violent Death, and those that strove to preserve that, cou’d not hope she wou’d ever have return’d to sense again, sometimes a wild extravagant Raving wou’d require all our aid, and then again she would talk and rail so tenderly —— and express her resentment in the kindest softest words that ever madness utter’d, and all of her Philander, till she has set us all a weeping round her, sometimes she’d sit as calm and still as death,|<91> and we have perceiv’d she liv’d only by sighs and silent Tears that fell into her bosom, then on a suddain wildly gaze upon us with Eyes that even then had wondrous Charms, and frantickly survey us all, then cry aloud, where is my Lord Phillander! —— Oh, bring me my Phillander, Brilljard, Oh Antonett, where have you hid the Treasure of my Soul, then weeping floods of Tears, wou’d sink all fainting in our Arms. Anon with trembling words and sighs she’d cry, —— but Oh, my dear Philander is no more, you have surrendered him to France —— Yes, yes, you’ve given him up, and he must dye, Publickly dye, be led a sad Victim thro the joyful crowd —— reproacht and fall ingloriously —— Then rave again and tear her lovely hair, and Act such wildness, —— so|<92> moving and so sad, as even infected the pitying beholders, and all we cou’d do, was gently to perswade her grief, and sooth her raveing Fits; but so we swore, so heartily we vow’d that you were safe, that with the aid of Octavio, who came that day to visit her, we made her capable of hearing a little reason from us: Octavio kneel’d, and beg’d she wou’d but calmly hear him speak, he pawn’d his Soul, his honour, and his life Phillander was as safe from any injury either from France or any other Enemy as he, as she, or Heaven it self; in fine, my Lord, he Vow’d, he swore, and pleaded, till she with patience heard him tell his Story, and the necessity of your absence, this brought her temper back, and dry’d her Eyes, then sighing answer’d him —— that if for your safety you|<93> were fled, she wou’d forgive your cruelty and your absence, and indeavour to be her self again: But then she wou’d a thousand times conjure him not to deceive her faith, by all the friendship that he bore Philander, not to possess her with false hopes; then wou’d he swear a new; and as he swore, she wou’d behold him with such charming sadness in her Eyes that he almost forgot what he wou’d say, to gaze upon her, and to pay his Pitty? But if with all his power of Beauty and of Rhetorick he left her Calm, he was no sooner gone, but she return’d to all the Tempests of despairing Love, to all the unbelief of faithless passion, wou’d neither sleep, nor eat, nor suffer day to enter; but all was sad and gloomy as the vault that held the Ephesian Matron,* nor suffer’d she|<94> any to approach her but her Page, and Count Octavio, and he in midst of all was well receiv’d, not that I think my Lord she feign’d any part of that close retirement to entertain him with any freedom, that did not become a Woman of perfect Love and Honour; tho’ I must own, my Lord, I believe it impossible for him to behold the Lovely Silvia, without having a passion for her, what restraint his Friendship to you may put upon his heart or Tongue, I know not, but I conclude him a Lover, tho without success, what effects that may have upon the heart of Silvia only time can render an account of: And whose conduct I shall the more particularly observe from a curiosity natural to me, to see, if it may be possible for Silvia to love again after the adorable Phillander,|<95> which levity in one so perfect wou’d cure me of the Disease of Love, while I liv’d amongst the fickle Sex: But since no such thought can yet get possession of my belief I humbly beg your Lordship wou’d entertain no jealousie that may be so fatal to your repose and to that of Silvia, doubt not but my fears proceed perfectly from the zeal I have for your Lordship, for whose Honour and tranquillity none shall venture so far as,
My Lord,
Your Lordships most humble
and Obedient Servant.
Brilljard.
P O S T S C R I P T.
My Lord the Groom shall set forward with your Coach Horses to morrow Morning according to your Order.|<96>
Having writ this, he read it over; not to see whether it were wity or Eloquent, or writ up to the sence of so good a Judge as Philander, but to see whether he had cast it for his purpose; for there his Master-piece was to be shewn; and having read it, he doubted whether the relation of Silvia’s griefs were not too moving, and whether they might not serve to revive his fading love which were intended only as a demonstration of his own pitty and compassion, that from thence the deceiv’d Lover might with the more ease entertain a belief in what he hinted of her Levity when he was to make that out, as he now had but toucht upon it, for he wou’d not have it thought the business of malice to Silvia, but duty and respect to Philander: That thought reconcil’d|<97> him, to the first part without alteration, and he fancy’d he had said enough in the latter, to give any man of Love and Sence a Jealousie which might inspire a young Lover in persut of a new Mistress, with a revenge that might wholly turn to his advantage, for now every ray gave him light enough to conduct him to hope, and he believ’d nothing too difficult for his Love, nor what his invention cou’d not conquer, he fancy’d himself a very Machiavel* already, and almost promis’d himself the Charming Silvia, with these thoughts he seals up his Letters, and hastes to Silvia’s Chamber for her Further commands, having in his politick transports forgotten he had left Octavio with her. Octavio, who no sooner had seen Brilljard quit the Chamber all trembling and disor-|<98>der’d, after having given him entrance, but the next step was to the Feet of the newly recover’d languishing Beauty, who not knowing any thing of the freedom the daring Husband-Lover had taken, was not at all surpriz’d to hear Octavio cry (kneeling before her) Ah Madam, I no longer wonder you use Octavio with such rigour, then sighing declin’d his Melancholy Eyes, where love and jealousie made themselves too apparent, while she believing he had only reproach’d her want of Ceremony at his entrance, checking her self, she started from the Bed and taking him by the hands to raise him, she cry’d, Rise, my Lord, and pardon the omission of that respect which was not wanting but with even life it self; Octavio answer’d, Yes Madam, but you took care, not to make the World|<99> absolutely unhappy in your Eternal loss, and therefore made
Octavio to Silvia.
Madam,
’Tis true, that in obedience to your commands, I begg’d your pardon for the|<110> confession I made you of my passion. But since you cou’d not but see the contradiction of my tongue in my eyes, and hear it but too well confirm’d by my sighs, why will you confine me to the formalities of a silent languishment, unless to increase my flame with my pain.
You conjure me to see you often, and at the same time forbid me speaking my passion, and this bold intruder comes to tell you now, ’tis impossible to obey the first, without disobliging the last, and since the crime of adoring you exceeds my disobedience in not waiting on you, be pleas’d at least to pardon that fault, which my profound respect to the lovely Sylvia compells me to commit; for ’tis impossible to see you, and not give you an occasion of reproaching me: If I|<111> cou’d make a truce with my eyes, and like a mortifi’d Capuchion,* look alwayes downwards, not daring to behold the glorious temptations of your Beauty, yet you wound a thousand wayes besides; your touches inflame me, and your voice has musick in’t, that strikes upon my Soul with ravishing tenderness; your Wit is unresistible and peircing; your very sorrows and complaints have charms, that make me soft without the aid of Love: But Pity joyn’d with Passion raises a flame too mighty for my conduct! And I in transports every way confess it! Yes, yes, Upbraid me! Call me Traytor and ungrateful! Tell me my friendship is fals! But Sylvia, yet be just, and say my love was true. Say only he had seen the charming Sylvia; and who is he, that after that wou’d not excuse the rest|<112> in one so absolutely born to be undone by Love, as is
Her destin’d Slave
Octavio.
Postscript.
Madam: Among some Rarities. I this Morning saw, I found these Trifles Florio brings you, which because uncommon I presume to send you.
Sylvia, notwithstanding the seeming severity of her Commands, was well enough pleas’d to be disobey’d; and Women never pardon any fault more willingly than one of this nature, where the Crime gives so infallable a demonstration of their power and Beauty; nor can any of their Sex be angry in their hearts|<113> for being thought desirable; and ’twas not with pain that she saw him obstinate in his passion, as you may believe by her answering his Letters, nor ought any Lover to despair, when he receives denial under his Mistresses own hand, which she sent in this to Octavio.
Silvia to Octavio.
You but ill judge of my Wit, or Humour, Octavio, when you send me such a Present, and such a Billet, if you believe I either receive the one, or the other, as you design’d: In obedience to me you will no more tell me of your Love, and yet at the same time you are breaking your word from one end of the Paper to the other. Out of respect to me you will see me no more, and yet are|<114> bribing me with presents; believing you have found out the surest way to a Womans heart. I must needs confess, Octavio, there is great eloquence in a pair of Bracelets of five thousand Crowns:* ’Tis an Argument to prove your Passion, that has more prevailing reason in’t, than either Seneca* or Tully* cou’d have urg’d, nor can a Lover write or speak in any Language so significant, and very well to be understood, as in that silent one of presenting. The malicious World has a long time agreed to reproach poor Women with cruel, unkind, insensible, and dull; when indeed ’tis those men that are in fault, who want the right way of addressing, the true and secret Arts of moving, that sovereign Remedy against disdain. ’Tis you alone, my Lord, like a young Columbus, that have found the|<115> direct, unpractic’d way to that little and somuch desir’d World the favour of the Fair, nor cou’d Love himself have pointed his Arrows with any thing more successful for his conquest of hearts: But mine, my Lord, like Scæva’s Sheild,* is already so full of Arrows shot from Philanders eyes, it has no room for any other darts! Take back your presents then, my Lord, and when you make ’em next, be sure you first consider the Receiver; for know, Octavio, Maids of my Quality, ought to find themselves secure from addresses of this nature, unless they first invite; you ought to have seen advances in my freedoms, consenting in my eyes, or (that usual vanity of my Sex) a thousand little trifling Arts of affectation, to furnish out a conquest, a forward complysance, to every|<116> Gawdy Coxcomb, to fill my train with amorous Cringing Captives, this might have justified your pretensions, but on the contrary, my Eyes and thoughts, which never stray’d from the dear man I love, were always bent to earth, when gaz’d upon by you; and when I did but fear you lookt with love, I entertain’d you with Phillanders praise, his wondrous Beauty, and his wondrous Love! and left nothing untold that might confirm you how much impossible it was I e’re shou’d love again, that I might leave you no room for hope, and since my story has been so unfortunate to alarm the whole world with a conduct so fatal, I made no scruple of telling you with what joy and pride I was undone; if this incourage you; if Octavio have sentiments so meanly poor of me, to think, because I yiel-|<117>ded to Philander, his hopes shou’d be advanc’d? I banish him for ever from my sight, and after that disdain the little service, he can render the
Never to be alter’d Silvia.
This Letter, she sent him back by his Page, but not the Bracelets which were indeed very fine, and very considerable, at the same time she threatened him with banishment, she so absolutely expected to be disobey’d in all things of that kind, that she drest her self that day to advantage, which since her arrival she had never done in her own habits; what with her illness, and Philanders absence, a careless negligence had seiz’d her, till rous’d and weaken’d to the thoughts of Beauty by Octavio’s Love, she be-|<118>gan to try its force, and that day drest: while she was so imploy’d, the Page hastes with the Letter to his Lord, who chang’d Colour at the sight of it e’re he receiv’d it; not that he hop’d it brought love, ’twas enough she wou’d but answer, tho she rail’d; let her (said he in opening it) vow she hates me: Let her call me Traytor and unjust, so she take the pains to tell it this way, for he knew well those that argue will yield, and only she that sends him back his own Letters without reading ’em can give dispair. He read therefore without a sigh, nor complained he on her rigours, and because it was too early yet to make his Visit, to shew the impatience of his Love, as much as the reality and resolution of it, he bid his Page wait and sent her back this answer.|<119>
Octavio to Silvia.
Fair angry Silvia, how has my Love offended? Has its excess betray’d the least part of that respect due to your Birth and Beauty? Tho I am young as the Gay rudy Morning, and vigorous as the guilded Sun at Noon, and Amorous as that God, when with such haste he chas’d young Daphne o’re the flowery Plain! it never made me guilty of a thought that Silvia might not Pitty, and allow. Nor came that trifling present to plead for any wish, or mend my Eloquence, which you with such disdain upbraid me with, the Bracelets came not to be raffl’d for your Love, nor Pimp to my desires: Youth scorns those common aids; No, let dull|<120> Age pursue those ways of merchandise, who only buy up hearts at that vain price, and never make a Barter, but a Purchase. Youth has a better way of trading in Loves Markets, and you have taught me too well to judge of, and to value Beauty, to dare to bid so cheaply for it; I found the toy was gay, the work was neat, and fancy new; and know not any thing they wou’d so well adorn as Silvia’s lovely hands: I say, if after this, I shou’d have been the mercenary fool to have dunn’d you for return, you might have us’d me thus —— Condemn me e’re you find me sin in thought! that part of it was yet so far behind ’twas scarce arriv’d in wish. You shou’d have staid till it approacht more near, before you damn’d it to eternal silence. To love, to sigh,|<121> —— to weep, to pray, and to complain; why one may be allow’d it in Devotion; but you, nicer than Heaven it self, makes that a Crime, which all the powers Divine have n’re decreed one I will not plead, nor ask you leave to love; Love is my right, my business, and my Province; the Empire of the young, the vigorous, and the bold; and I will claim my share; the Air, the Groves, the Shades, are mine to sigh in, as well as your Philanders; the Eccho’s answer me as willingly, when I complain, or Name the cruel Silvia; Fountains receive my Tears, and the kind Springs reflection agreeably flatters me to hope; and makes me vain enough to think it just and reasonable I shou’d pursue the Dictates of my Soul —— Love on in spight of opposition, because I|<122> will not lose my Priviledge; you may forbid me naming it to you, in that I can obey, because I can; but not to love! not to adore the fair! and not to languish for you, were as impossible as for you not to be lovely, not to be the most charming of your Sex. But I am so far from a pretending fool, because you’ve been possest, that often that thought comes cross my Soul, and checks my advancing Love! and I wou’d buy that thought off with all most all my share of future bliss! Were I a God, the first great Miracle shou’d be to form you a Maid again! For oh, what ever reasons flattering Love can bring to make it look like just, the World! the World fair Silvia, still will censure, and say —— you were to blame, but ’twas that fault alone that made you mortal, we|<123> else shou’d have ador’d you as a Deity, and so have lost a generous race of young succeeding Hero’s that may be born of you! yet had Philander lov’d but half so well as I, he wou’d have kept your glorious Fame intire, but since alone for Silvia, I love Silvia! let her be false to honour, false to Love, wanton and proud, ill-natur’d, vain, fantastique, or what is worse —— let her pursue her Love, be constant, and still dote upon Philander —— Yet still she’l be the Silvia I adore, that Silvia born eternally to inslave
Octavio.
This he sent by Florio his Page at the same time that she expected the visit of his Lord, and blusht with a little anger and concern at the disappointment; however she|<124> hasted to read the Letter, and was pleas’d with the haughty resolution he made, in spight of her, to love on as his right by birth; and she was glad to find from these positive resolves that she might the more safely disdain, or at least assume a Tyranny which might render her vertue Glorious, and yet at the same time keep him her slave on all occasions when she might have need of his service, which, in the circumstances she was in, she did not know of what great use it might be to her, she having no other design on him, bating the little Vanity of her Sex, which is an ingredient so intermixt with the greatest vertues of Women kind, that those who indeavour to cure ’em of that disease robs ’em of a very considerable pleasure, and in most, ’tis incurable: Give Silvia then|<125> leave to share it with her Sex, since she was so much the more excusable by how much a greater portion of Beauty she had than any other, and had sense enough to know it too; as indeed whatever other Knowledge they want, they have still enough to set a price on beauty, tho they do not always rate it, for had Silvia done that, she had been the hapiest of her Sex! but as she was, she waited the coming of Octavio, but not so as to make her quit one sad thought for Philanders. Love and vanity, tho they both reign’d in her Soul, yet the first surmounted the last, and she grew to impatient ravings when ever she cast a thought upon her fear that Philander grew cold; and possibly pride and vanity had as great a share in that concern of hers as Love it self, for she wou’d|<126> oft survey her self in her Glass, and cry! Gods! can this Beauty be despis’d? this Shape! this Face! this youth! This Air! and what’s more obliging yet, a heart that adores the fugitive, that languish and sighs after the dear Run away. Is it possible he can find a Beauty, added she, of greater perfection —— But oh ’tis fancy sets the rate on Beauty; and he may as well love a third time as he has a Second: For in Love those that once break the rules and Laws of that Deity set no bounds to their Treasons, and disobedience. Yes yes —— wou’d she cry, he that cou’d leave Mertilla, the fair, the young, the Noble, Chast and fond Mertilla, what after that may he not do to Silvia, on whom he has less tyes, less obligations: Oh wretched Maid —— what has thy fondness done! he’s satiated now with thee, as before with Mertilla, and carries all those|<127> dear, those charming joys, to some new Beauty, whom his looks have Conquer’d, and whom his soft bewitching Vows will ruin! with that she rav’d and stampt, and cry’d aloud! Hell —— Fiers —— Tortures —— Dagers —— Racks and Poyson —— come all to my relief! Revenge me on the perjur’d lovely Divel —— But I’le be brave —— I will be brave and hate him —— This she spoke in a tone less fierce, and with great Pride, and had not paws’d and walk’d above a hasty turn or two, but Octavio as impatient as love cou’d make him, enter’d the Chamber, so drest, so set out for Conquest, that I wonder at nothing more than that Silvia did not find him altogether Charming, and fit for her revenge who was form’d by Nature for Love: And had all that cou’d render him the Dotage of Women; but where a heart is pre-|<128>possest, all that is Beautiful in any other Man serves but as an ill comparison to what it loves, and even Philanders likeness, that was not indeed Philander, wanted the secret to charm. At Octavio’s entrance she was so fixt on her Revenge of Love, that she did not see him who presented himself as so proper an Instrument, till he first sighing, spoke, Ah Silvia, shall I never see that Beauty easie more? Shall I never see it reconcil’d to content, and a soft calmness fixt upon those Eyes, which were form’d for looks all tender and serene, or are they resolv’d (continu’d he, sighing) never to appear but in storms when I approach? Yes, replyed she, when there’s a Calm of Love in yours that raises it. Will you confine my Eyes (said he) that are by Nature soft? May not their silent Language tell you my hearts|<129> sad Story? But she reply’d with a sigh, it is not generously done Octavio, thus to pursue a poor unguarded Maid, left to your Care, your promises of Friendship. Ah, will you use Philander with such treachery? Silvia, said he, my Flame’s so just and reasonable, that I dare even to him pronounce I love you, and after that dare love you on —— And wou’d you (said she) to satisfie a little short liv’d passion, forfeit those vows you’ve made of Friendship to Philander? That heart that loves you Silvia (he replyed) cannot be guilty of so base a thought, Philander is my Friend, and as he is so, shall know the dearest secrets of my Soul. I shou’d believe my self indeed ungrateful (continu’d he) wher e’re I lov’d, shou’d I not tell Philander, he told me frankly all his Soul; his loves, his griefs, his Treasons, and escapes, and in return I’le pay him|<130> back with mine, and do you Imagine (said she) that he wou’d permit your love, how shou’d he hinder me (reply’d he.) I do believe (said she) he’d forfeit all his safety and his friendship, and fight ye, then I’d defend my self, said he if he were so ungrateful. While they thus argued Silvia had her thoughts a part, on the little stratagems that VVomen in love sometimes make use of; and Octavio no sooner told her he wou’d send Philander word of his Love, but she imagin’d that such a knowledge might retrieve the heart of her Lover, if indeed it were on the wing, and revive the dying Embers in his Soul, as usually it does from such occasions, and on the other side, she thought that she might more allowably receive Octavio’s addresses, when they were with
Octavio to Philander.
My Lord
Since I have vow’d you my Eternal friendship, and that I absolutely believe my self honour’d with that of yours, I think my self oblig’d by those powerful|<132> tyes to let you know my heart, not only now as that friend from whom I ought to conceal nothing, but as a Rival too, whom in Honour I ought to treat as a generous one; perhaps you will be so unkind as to say I cannot be a friend and a Rival at the same time, and that almighty love, that sets the world at odds, chases all things from the heart where that reigns, to establish it self the more absolutely there, but, my Lord, I avow mine a Love of that good Nature, that can indure the equal sway of friendship, where like two perfect Friends they support each others Empire there, nor can the glory of one Eclipse that of the other, but both like the notion we have of the Deity, tho two distinct passions make but one in my Soul, and tho friendship first enter’d, ’twas in vain, I call’d it to my aid, at the|<133> first soft invasion of Silvia’s power; and you my charming friend, are the most oblig’d to, pitty me, who already know so well the force of her beauty I wou’d fain have you think, I strove at first with all my reason against the irresistible lustre of her eyes. And at the first assaults of Love, I gave him not a welcome to my bosome, but like slaves unus’d to fetters, I grew sullen with my chains, and wore ’em for your sake uneasily. I thought it base to look upon the Mistress of my friend with wishing eyes; but softer Love soon furnisht me with arguments to justifie my claim, since Love is not the choice but the face of the Soul, who seldom regards the object lov’d as ’tis, but as it wishes to have it be, and then kind fancy makes it soon the same. Love, that Almighty Creator of something|<134> from nothing, forms a Wit, a Hero, or a Beauty, Vertue, good Humour, Honour, any excellence, when oftentimes there’s neither in the Object, but where the agreeing world has fixt all these, and ’tis by all resolv’d, (whether they love or not) that this is she, you ought no more Philander, to upbraid my Flame; than to wonder at it; it is enough I tell you that ’tis Silvia, to justifie my passion! nor is’t a Crime that I confess, I love! since it can never rob Philander of the least part of what I’ve vow’d him, or if his nicer Honour will believe me guilty of a fault, let this attone for all; that if I wrong my friend in loving Silvia, I right him in despairing, for oh I am repuls’d with all the Rigour of the coy and fair, with all the little Malice of the wity Sex!|<135> and all the Love of Silvia to Philander, —— There, there’s the stop to all my hopes, and happiness, and yet by Heaven I love thee, oh thou favour’d Rival!
After this frank confession, my Philander, I shou’d be glad to hear your sentiment, since yet, in spight of Love, in spight of Beauty, I’m resolv’d
To dy Philanders
Constant Friend, Octavio.
After he had writ this, he gave it to Silvia. See Charming Creature (said he in delivering it) if after this you either doubt my Love, or what I dare for Silvia. I neither receive it (said she) as a proof of the one or the other; but rather that you believe, by this frank Confession, to render it as a piece of Gallantry|<136> and diversion to Philander; for no Man of sense will imagine that, love true, or arriv’d to any height, that makes a publique confession of it to his Rival. Ah Silvia answer’d he, how malicious is your Wit, and how active to turn its pointed mischief on me, had I not writ, you wou’d have said I durst not, and when I make a declaration of it, you call it only a slight piece of Gallantry! but Silvia you have wit enough to try it a thousand ways, and power enough to make me obey; use the extremity of both; so you recompence me at last with a confession that I was at least found worthy to be numbred in the crowd of your adorers. Silvia reply’d, he were a dull Lover indeed, that wou’d need instructions from the Wit of his Mistress to give her proofs of his passion, what ever opinion you have of my sense, I have too good a one of Octavio’s to be-|<137>lieve, that when he’s a Lover he’le want aids to make it appear, till then we’le let that argument alone and consider his address to Philander. She then read over the Letter he had writ, which she lik’d very well for her purpose, for at this time our young Dutch Hero was made a property of, in order to her revenge on Philander. She told him he had said too much both for himself and her. He told her, he had declar’d nothing with his Pen, that he wou’d not make good with his Sword. Hold Sir, said she, and do not imagine from the freedom you have taken in owning your passion to Philander, that I shall allow it here; what you declare to the world is your own Crime, but when I hear it, ’tis no longer yours but mine, I therefore conjure you, my Lord, not to charge my Soul with so great a sin against Philander, and I confess to|<138> you, I shall be infinitely troubl’d to be oblig’d to banish you my sight for ever. He heard her and answer’d with a sigh, for she went from him to the Table and seal’d her Letter, and gave it him to be inclos’d to Philander, and left him to consider on her last words, which he did not lay to heart, because he fancy’d she spoke this as women do that will be won with industry, he, in standing up as she went from him, saw himself in the great glass, and bid his person answer his heart, which from every view he took, was reinforc’d with new hope, for he was too good a judge of Beauty not to find it in every part of his own Amiable person, nor cou’d he imagine from Silvia’s eyes, (which were naturally soft and languishing, and now the more so from her fears and jealousies) that she|<139> meant from her heart the rigours she exprest: Much he allow’d for his short time of Courtship, much to her Sex’s modesty, much from her quality, and very much from her Love, and imagin’d it must be only time and assiduity, opportunity, and obstinate passion, that was only capable of reducing her to break her faith with Philander, he therefore indeavour’d by all the good dressing, the advantage of lavish gayety, to render his person agreeable, and by all the Arts of Gallantry to charm her with his conversation, and when he cou’d handsomely bring in love, he fail’d not to touch upon it as far as it wou’d be permitted, and every day had the vanity to fancy he made some advances, for indeed every day more and more she found she might have use for so considerable|<140> a Person, so that one may very well say, never any past their time better than Silvia and Octavio, tho with different ends, all he had now to fear was from the answer Philanders Letter shou’d bring, for whom he had in spight of Love, so intire a friendship, that he even doubted whether, (if Philander cou’d urge reasons potent enough) he shou&rsq