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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:21 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:21 -0700 |
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font-size: 90%;} + +div.contents {margin: 2em 1em 0;} +div.contents p {margin-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Aphra Behn, by Aphra Behn + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works of Aphra Behn + Volume V + +Author: Aphra Behn + +Editor: Montague Summers + +Release Date: August 30, 2009 [EBook #29854] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF APHRA BEHN *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, Wendy Bertsch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class = "mynote"> +<p>This text uses UTF-8 (unicode) file encoding. If the apostrophes and +quotation marks in this paragraph appear as garbage, make sure your +browser’s “character set” or “file encoding” is set to Unicode +(UTF-8). You may also need to change the default font.</p> + +<p class = "center"> +<a href = "#contents">Contents</a> (as printed)<br> +<a href = "#endnotes">Transcriber’s Notes</a><br> +<a href = "#detail">Full Contents</a></p> +</div> + + +<hr class = "mid"> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>THE WORKS</h3> + +<h6>OF</h6> + +<h1>APHRA BEHN</h1> + +<h6 class = "smallcaps">Edited by</h6> + +<h5>MONTAGUE SUMMERS</h5> + +<p> </p> + +<h5>VOL. V</h5> + +<h5 class = "smallcaps"> +The Black Lady — The King of Bantam<br> +The Unfortunate Happy Lady — The Fair Jilt<br> +Oroonoko — Agnes de Castro<br> +The History of the Nun — The Nun<br> +The Lucky Mistake — The Unfortunate Bride<br> +The Dumb Virgin — The Wandering Beauty<br> +The Unhappy Mistake</h5> + +<p> </p> + +<p class = "illustration"> +<img src = "images/publogo.gif" width = "91" height = "92" +alt = "publisher’s device: W H and windmill"> +</p> + +<p> </p> + +<h5><span class = "extended">LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN</span><br> +STRATFORD-ON-AVON: A. H. BULLEN<br> +MCMXV</h5> + +<hr class = "mid"> + +<h4><a name = "contents" id = "contents">CONTENTS.</a></h4> + + +<table class = "toc" summary = "table of contents"> +<tr> +<td></td> +<td class = "number smallroman">PAGE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><p>THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLACK LADY</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#black_lady">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE COURT OF THE KING OF BANTAM</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#king_bantam">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY: A TRUE HISTORY</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#happy_lady">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE FAIR JILT</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#fair_jilt">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>OROONOKO; OR, THE ROYAL SLAVE</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#oroonoko">125</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>AGNES DE CASTRO</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#agnes_castro">209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE HISTORY OF THE NUN; OR, THE FAIR VOW-BREAKER</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#history_nun">257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE NUN; OR, THE PERJUR’D BEAUTY</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#nun_perjurd">325</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE LUCKY MISTAKE</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#lucky">349</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE UNFORTUNATE BRIDE; OR, THE BLIND LADY A BEAUTY</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#unfortunate">399</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE DUMB VIRGIN; OR, THE FORCE OF IMAGINATION</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#dumb_virgin">415</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE WANDERING BEAUTY</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#wandering">445</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE; OR, THE IMPIOUS VOW PUNISH’D</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#unhappy">469</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>APPENDIX</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#appendix">507</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>NOTES</p></td> +<td class = "number"><a href = "#notes">513</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class = "maintext"> + +<span class = "pagenum">1</span> +<a name = "black_lady" id = "black_lady"> </a> + + +<h3>THE ADVENTURE<br> +OF THE BLACK LADY.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">3</span> + +<h4><a name = "black_lady_main" id = "black_lady_main"> +THE ADVENTURE</a><br> +OF THE <i>BLACK LADY</i>.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">About</span> the Beginning of last +<i>June</i> (as near as I can remember) <i>Bellamora</i> came to Town +from <i>Hampshire</i>, and was obliged to lodge the first Night at the +same Inn where the Stage-Coach set up. The next Day she took Coach for +<i>Covent-Garden</i>, where she thought to find Madam <i>Brightly</i>, +a Relation of hers, with whom she design’d to continue for about +half a Year undiscover’d, if possible, by her Friends in the Country: +and order’d therefore her Trunk, with her Clothes, and most of her Money +and Jewels, to be brought after her to Madame <i>Brightly’s</i> by a +strange Porter, whom she spoke to in the Street as she was taking Coach; +being utterly unacquainted with the neat Practices of this fine City. +When she came to <a class = "comm" name = "black_lady_commtag1" id = +"black_lady_commtag1" href = +"#black_lady_comm1"><i>Bridges-Street</i></a>, where indeed her Cousin +had lodged near three or four Years since, she was strangely surprized +that she could not learn anything of her; no, nor so much as meet with +anyone that had ever heard of her Cousin’s Name: Till, at last, +describing Madam <i>Brightly</i> to one of the House-keepers in that +Place, he told her, that there was such a kind of Lady, whom he had +sometimes seen there about a Year and a half ago; but that he believed +she was married and remov’d towards <i>Soho</i>. In this Perplexity she +quite forgot her Trunk and Money, <i>&c</i>, and wander’d in her +Hackney-Coach all over St. <i>Anne’s</i> Parish; inquiring for Madam +<i>Brightly</i>, still describing her Person, but in vain; for no Soul +could give her any Tale or Tidings of such a Lady. After she had thus +fruitlessly rambled, till she, the Coachman, and the very Horses were +even tired, +<span class = "pagenum">4</span> +by good Fortune for her, she happen’d on a private House, where lived a +good, discreet, ancient Gentlewoman, who was fallen to Decay, and forc’d +to let Lodgings for the best Part of her Livelihood: From whom she +understood, that there was such a kind of Lady, who had lain there +somewhat more than a Twelvemonth, being near three Months after she was +married; but that she was now gone abroad with the Gentleman her +Husband, either to the Play, or to take the fresh Air; and she believ’d +would not return till Night. This Discourse of the Good Gentlewoman’s so +elevated <i>Bellamora’s</i> drooping Spirits, that after she had beg’d +the liberty of staying there till they came home, she discharg’d the +Coachman in all haste, still forgetting her Trunk, and the more valuable +Furniture of it.</p> + +<p>When they were alone, <i>Bellamora</i> desired she might be permitted +the Freedom to send for a Pint of Sack; which, with some little +Difficulty, was at last allow’d her. They began then to chat for a +matter of half an Hour of things indifferent: and at length the ancient +Gentlewoman ask’d the fair Innocent (I must not say foolish) one, +of what Country, and what her Name was: to both which she answer’d +directly and truly, tho’ it might have prov’d not discreetly. She then +enquir’d of <i>Bellamora</i> if her Parents were living, and the +Occasion of her coming to Town. The fair unthinking Creature reply’d, +that her Father and Mother were both dead; and that she had escap’d from +her Uncle, under the pretence of making a Visit to a young Lady, her +Cousin, who was lately married, and liv’d above twenty Miles from her +Uncle’s, in the Road to <i>London</i>, and that the Cause of her +quitting the Country, was to avoid the hated Importunities of a +Gentleman, whose pretended Love to her she fear’d had been her eternal +Ruin. At which she wept and sigh’d most extravagantly. The discreet +Gentlewoman endeavour’d to comfort her by all the softest and most +powerful Arguments in her Capacity; promising her all the friendly +Assistance that she could +<span class = "pagenum">5</span> +expect from her, during <i>Bellamora’s</i> stay in Town: which she did +with so much Earnestness, and visible Integrity, that the pretty +innocent Creature was going to make her a full and real Discovery of her +imaginary insupportable Misfortunes; and (doubtless) had done it, had +she not been prevented by the Return of the Lady, whom she hop’d to have +found her Cousin <i>Brightly</i>. The Gentleman, her Husband just saw +her within Doors, and <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘orderd’">order’d</ins> the Coach to drive to some of his +Bottle-Companions; which gave the Women the better Opportunity of +entertaining one another, which happen’d to be with some Surprize on all +Sides. As the Lady was going up into her Apartment, the Gentlewoman of +the House told her there was a young Lady in the Parlour, who came out +of the Country that very Day on purpose to visit her: The Lady stept +immediately to see who it was, and <i>Bellamora</i> approaching to +receive her hop’d-for Cousin, stop’d on the sudden just as she came to +her; and sigh’d out aloud, Ah, Madam! I am lost—It is not +your Ladyship I seek. No, Madam (return’d the other) I am apt to +think you did not intend me this Honour. But you are as welcome to me, +as you could be to the dearest of your Acquaintance: Have you forgot me, +Madame <i>Bellamora</i>? (continued she.) That Name startled the other: +However, it was with a kind of Joy. Alas! Madam, (replied the young one) +I now remember that I have been so happy to have seen you; but +where and when, my Memory can’t tell me. ’Tis indeed some Years since, +(return’d the Lady) But of that another time.—Mean while, if you +are unprovided of a Lodging, I dare undertake, you shall be welcome +to this Gentlewoman. The Unfortunate returned her Thanks; and whilst a +Chamber was preparing for her, the Lady entertain’d her in her own. +About Ten o’Clock they parted, <i>Bellamora</i> being conducted to her +Lodging by the Mistress of the House, who then left her to take what +Rest she could amidst her so many Misfortunes; returning to the +<span class = "pagenum">6</span> +other Lady, who desir’d her to search into the Cause of +<i>Bellamora’s</i> Retreat to Town.</p> + +<p>The next Morning the good Gentlewoman of the House coming up to her, +found <i>Bellamora</i> almost drown’d in Tears, which by many kind and +sweet Words she at last stopp’d; and asking whence so great Signs of +Sorrow should proceed, vow’d a most profound Secrecy if she would +discover to her their Occasion; which, after some little Reluctancy, she +did, in this manner.</p> + +<p>I was courted (said she) above three Years ago, when my Mother was +yet living, by one Mr. <i>Fondlove</i>, a Gentleman of good Estate, +and true Worth; and one who, I dare believe, did then really love +me: He continu’d his Passion for me, with all the earnest and honest +Sollicitations imaginable, till some Months before my Mother’s Death; +who, at that time, was most desirous to see me disposed of in Marriage +to another Gentleman, of much better Estate than Mr. <i>Fondlove</i>; +but one whose Person and Humour did by no means hit with my +Inclinations: And this gave <i>Fondlove</i> the unhappy Advantage over +me. For, finding me one Day all alone in my Chamber, and lying on my +Bed, in as mournful and wretched a Condition to my then foolish +Apprehension, as now I am, he urged his Passion with such Violence, and +accursed Success for me, with reiterated Promises of Marriage, +whensoever I pleas’d to challenge ’em, which he bound with the most +sacred Oaths, and most dreadful Execrations: that partly with my +Aversion to the other, and partly with my Inclinations to pity him, +I ruin’d my self.—Here she relaps’d into a greater +Extravagance of Grief than before; which was so extreme that it did not +continue long. When therefore she was pretty well come to herself, the +antient Gentlewoman ask’d her, why she imagin’d herself ruin’d: To which +she answer’d, I am great with Child by him, Madam, and wonder you +did not perceive it last Night. Alas! I have not a Month +<span class = "pagenum">7</span> +to go: I am asham’d, ruin’d, and damn’d, I fear, for ever +lost. Oh! fie, Madam, think not so, (said the other) for the Gentleman +may yet prove true, and marry you. Ay, Madam (replied <i>Bellamora</i>) +I doubt not that he would marry me; for soon after my Mother’s Death, +when I came to be at my own Disposal, which happen’d about two Months +after, he offer’d, nay most earnestly sollicited me to it, which still +he perseveres to do. This is strange! (return’d the other) and it +appears to me to be your own Fault, that you are yet miserable. Why did +you not, or why will you not consent to your own Happiness? Alas! (cry’d +<i>Bellamora</i>) ’tis the only Thing I dread in this World: For, +I am certain, he can never love me after. Besides, ever since I +have abhorr’d the Sight of him: and this is the only Cause that obliges +me to forsake my Uncle, and all my Friends and Relations in the Country, +hoping in this populous and publick Place to be most private, +especially, Madam, in your House, and in your Fidelity and Discretion. +Of the last you may assure yourself, Madam, (said the other:) but what +Provision have you made for the Reception of the young Stranger that you +carry about you? Ah, Madam! (cryd <i>Bellamora</i>) you have brought to +my Mind another Misfortune: Then she acquainted her with the suppos’d +loss of her Money and Jewels, telling her withall, that she had but +three Guineas and some Silver left, and the Rings she wore, in her +present possession. The good Gentlewoman of the House told her, she +would send to enquire at the Inn where she lay the first Night she came +to Town; for, haply, they might give some Account of the Porter to whom +she had entrusted her Trunk; and withal repeated her Promise of all the +Help in her Power, and for that time left her much more compos’d than +she found her. The good Gentlewoman went directly to the other Lady, her +Lodger, to whom she recounted <i>Bellamora’s</i> mournful Confession; at +which the Lady +<span class = "pagenum">8</span> +appear’d mightily concern’d: and at last she told her Landlady, that she +would take Care that <i>Bellamora</i> should lie in according to her +Quality: For, added she, the Child, it seems, is my own Brother’s.</p> + +<p>As soon as she had din’d, she went to the <i>Exchange</i>, and bought +Child-bed Linen; but desired that <i>Bellamora</i> might not have the +least Notice of it: And at her return dispatch’d a Letter to her Brother +<i>Fondlove</i> in <i>Hampshire</i>, with an Account of every +Particular; which soon brought him up to Town, without satisfying any of +his or her Friends with the Reason of his sudden Departure. Mean while, +the good Gentlewoman of the House had sent to the <a class = "comm" name += "black_lady_commtag2" id = "black_lady_commtag2" href = +"#black_lady_comm2"><i>Star Inn</i> on <i>Fish-street-Hill</i></a>, to +demand the Trunk, which she rightly suppos’d to have been carried back +thither: For by good Luck, it was a Fellow that ply’d thereabouts, who +brought it to <i>Bellamora’s</i> Lodgings that very Night, but unknown +to her. <i>Fondlove</i> no sooner got to <i>London</i>, but he posts to +his Sister’s Lodgings, where he was advis’d not to be seen of +<i>Bellamora</i> till they had work’d farther upon her, which the +Landlady began in this manner; she told her that her Things were +miscarried, and she fear’d, lost; that she had but a little Money her +self, and if the Overseers of the Poor (justly so call’d from their +over-looking ’em) should have the least Suspicion of a strange and +unmarried Person, who was entertain’d in her House big with Child, and +so near her Time as <i>Bellamora</i> was, she should be troubled, if +they could not give Security to the Parish of twenty or thirty Pounds, +that they should not suffer by her, which she could not; or otherwise +she must be sent to the House of Correction, and her Child to a +Parish-Nurse. This Discourse, one may imagine, was very dreadful to a +Person of her Youth, Beauty, Education, Family and Estate: However, she +resolutely protested, that she had rather undergo all this, than be +expos’d to the Scorn of her Friends and Relations in the Country. The +other +<span class = "pagenum">9</span> +told her then, that she must write down to her Uncle a Farewell-Letter, +as if she were just going aboard the Pacquet-Boat for <i>Holland</i>, +that he might not send to enquire for her in Town, when he should +understand she was not at her new-married Cousin’s in the Country; which +accordingly she did, keeping her self close Prisoner to her Chamber; +where she was daily visited by <i>Fondlove’s</i> Sister and the +Landlady, but by no Soul else, the first dissembling the Knowledge she +had of her Misfortunes. Thus she continued for above three Weeks, not a +Servant being suffer’d to enter her Chamber, so much as to make her Bed, +lest they should take Notice of her great Belly: but for all this +Caution, the Secret had taken Wind, by the means of an Attendant of the +other Lady below, who had over-heard her speaking of it to her Husband. +This soon got out of Doors, and spread abroad, till it reach’d the long +Ears of the Wolves of the Parish, who next Day design’d to pay her a +Visit: But <i>Fondlove</i>, by good Providence, prevented it; who, the +Night before, was usher’d into <i>Bellamora’s</i> Chamber by his Sister, +his Brother-in-Law, and the Landlady. At the Sight of him she had like +to have swoon’d away: but he taking her in his Arms, began again, as he +was wont to do, with Tears in his Eyes, to beg that she would marry him +ere she was deliver’d; if not for his, nor her own, yet for the Child’s +Sake, which she hourly expected; that it might not be born out of +Wedlock, and so be made uncapable of inheriting either of their Estates; +with a great many more pressing Arguments on all Sides: To which at last +she consented; and an honest officious Gentleman, whom they had before +provided, was call’d up, who made an End of the Dispute: So to Bed they +went together that Night; next Day to the <a class = "comm" name = +"black_lady_commtag3" id = "black_lady_commtag3" href = +"#black_lady_comm3"><i>Exchange</i></a>, for several pretty Businesses +that Ladies in her Condition want. Whilst they were abroad, came the +Vermin of the Parish, (I mean, the Overseers of the Poor, who eat +the Bread from +<span class = "pagenum">10</span> +’em) to search for a young Blackhair’d Lady (for so was +<i>Bellamora</i>) who was either brought to Bed, or just ready to lie +down. The Landlady shew’d ’em all the Rooms in her House, but no such +Lady could be found. At last she bethought her self, and led ’em into +her Parlour, where she open’d a little Closet-door, and shew’d ’em a +black Cat that had just kitten’d: assuring ’em, that she should never +trouble the Parish as long as she had Rats or Mice in the House; and so +dismiss’d ’em like Loggerheads as they came.</p> + +<h4 class = "final">FINIS.</h4> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<span class = "pagenum">515</span> + +<h5><a name = "black_lady_notes" id = "black_lady_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Black Lady.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "black_lady_comm1" id = "black_lady_comm1" href = +"#black_lady_commtag1">p. 3</a> +<i>Bridges-Street.</i> Brydges Street lies between Russell Street and +Catherine Street. Drury Lane Theatre is at its N.E. corner. It early +acquired no very enviable repute, e.g. In the Epilogue to Crowne’s +<i>Sir Courtly Nice</i> (1685) we have: ‘Our Bridges Street is grown a +strumpet fair’; and Dryden, in the Epilogue to <i>King Arthur</i> +(1691), gave Mrs. Bracegirdle, who entered, her hands full of +billets-doux, the following lines to speak:—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p>Here one desires my ladyship to meet [<i>Pulls out +one.</i></p> +<p>At the kind couch above in Bridges-Street.</p> +<p>Oh sharping knave! that would have—you know what,</p> +<p>For a poor sneaking treat of chocolate.</p> +</div> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "black_lady_comm2" id = "black_lady_comm2" href = +"#black_lady_commtag2">p. 8</a> +<i>Star-Inn on Fish-street-Hill.</i> Fish Street Hill, or, New Fish +Street, runs from Eastcheap to Lower Thames Street, and was the main +thoroughfare to old London Bridge, cf. 2 <i>Henry VI</i>, +iv, <span class = "smallroman">VIII</span>: ‘<i>Cade.</i> Up Fish +Street! down St. Magnus’ corner! kill and knock down! throw them into +the Thames.’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "black_lady_comm3" id = "black_lady_comm3" href = +"#black_lady_commtag3">p. 9</a> +<i>the Exchange.</i> The New Exchange, a kind of bazaar on the South +side of the Strand. It was an immensely popular resort, and continued so +until the latter years of the reign of Queen Anne. There are innumerable +references to its shops, its sempstresses and haberdashers. Thomas +Duffet was a milliner here before he took to writing farces, prologues +and poems.</p> + +</div> + + + + +<span class = "pagenum">11</span> +<a name = "king_bantam" id = "king_bantam"> </a> + + +<h3>THE COURT OF<br> +THE KING OF BANTAM.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">13</span> + +<h4><a name = "bantam_main" id = "bantam_main">THE COURT OF</a><br> +THE KING OF <i>BANTAM</i>.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">This</span> Money certainly is a most +devilish Thing! I’m sure the Want of it had like to have ruin’d my dear +<i>Philibella</i>, in her Love to <i>Valentine Goodland</i>; who was +really a pretty deserving Gentleman, Heir to about fifteen hundred +Pounds a Year; which, however, did not so much recommend him, as the +Sweetness of his Temper, the Comeliness of his Person, and the +Excellency of his Parts: In all which Circumstances my obliging +Acquaintance equal’d him, unless in the Advantage of their Fortune. Old +Sir <i>George Goodland</i> knew of his Son’s Passion for +<i>Philibella</i>; and tho’ he was generous, and of a Humour +sufficiently complying, yet he could by no means think it convenient, +that his only Son should marry with a young Lady of so slender a Fortune +as my Friend, who had not above five hundred Pound, and that the Gift of +her Uncle Sir <i>Philip Friendly</i>: tho’ her Virtue and Beauty might +have deserv’d, and have adorn’d the Throne of an <i>Alexander</i> or a +<i>Cæsar</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Philip</i> himself, indeed, was but a younger Brother, tho’ of +a good Family, and of a generous Education; which, with his Person, +Bravery, and Wit, recommended him to his Lady <i>Philadelphia</i>, Widow +of Sir <i>Bartholomew Banquier</i>, who left her possess’d of two +thousand Pounds <i>per Annum</i>, besides twenty thousand Pounds in +Money and Jewels; which oblig’d him to get himself dubb’d, that she +might not descend to an inferior Quality. When he was in Town, he +liv’d—let me see! in the <i>Strand</i>; or, as near as I can +remember, somewhere about <i>Charing-Cross</i>; where first of all Mr. +<i>Would-be King</i>, a Gentleman of a large +<span class = "pagenum">14</span> +Estate in Houses, Land and Money, of a haughty, extravagant and profuse +Humour, very fond of every new Face, had the Misfortune to fall +passionately in love with <i>Philibella</i>, who then liv’d with her +Uncle.</p> + +<p>This Mr. <i>Would-be</i> it seems had often been told, when he was +yet a Stripling, either by one of his Nurses, or his own Grandmother, or +by some other Gypsy, that he should infallibly be what his Sirname +imply’d, a King, by Providence or Chance, ere he dy’d, or never. +This glorious Prophecy had so great an Influence on all his Thoughts and +Actions, that he distributed and dispers’d his Wealth sometimes so +largely, that one would have thought he had undoubtedly been King of +some Part of the <i>Indies</i>; to see a Present made to-day of a +Diamond Ring, worth two or three hundred Pounds, to Madam +<i>Flippant</i>; to-morrow, a large Chest of the finest +<i>China</i> to my Lady <i>Fleecewell</i>; and next Day, perhaps, +a rich Necklace of large Oriental Pearl, with a Locket to it of +Saphires, Emeralds, Rubies, &c., to pretty Miss <i>Ogle-me</i>, for +an amorous Glance, for a Smile, and (it may be, tho’ but rarely) +for the mighty Blessing of one single Kiss. But such were his Largesses, +not to reckon his Treats, his Balls, and Serenades besides, tho’ at the +same time he had marry’d a virtuous Lady, and of good Quality: But her +Relation to him (it may be fear’d) made her very disagreeable: For +a Man of his Humour and Estate can no more be satisfy’d with one Woman, +than with one Dish of Meat; and to say Truth, ’tis something unmodish. +However, he might have dy’d a pure Celibate, and altogether unexpert of +Women, had his good or bad Hopes only terminated in Sir <i>Philip’s</i> +Niece. But the brave and haughty Mr. <i>Would-be</i> was not to be +baulk’d by Appearances of Virtue, which <ins class = "correction" title += "text reads ‘be’">he</ins> thought all Womankind only did affect; +besides, he promis’d himself the Victory over any Lady whom he +attempted, by the Force of his damn’d Money, tho’ her Virtue were ever +so real and strict.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">15</span> +<p>With <i>Philibella</i> he found another pretty young Creature, very +like her, who had been a <i>quondam</i> Mistress to Sir <i>Philip</i>: +He, with young <i>Goodland</i>, was then diverting his Mistress and +Niece at a Game at Cards, when <i>Would-be</i> came to visit him; he +found ’em very merry, with a Flask or two of Claret before ’em, and +Oranges roasting by a large Fire, for it was <i>Christmas-time</i>. The +Lady <i>Friendly</i> understanding that this extraordinary Man was with +Sir <i>Philip</i> in the Parlour, came in to ’em, to make the number of +both Sexes equal, as well as in Hopes to make up a Purse of Guineas +toward the Purchase of some new fine Business that she had in her Head, +from his accustom’d Design of losing at Play to her. Indeed, she had +Part of her Wish, for she got twenty Guineas of him; <i>Philibella</i> +ten; and <i>Lucy</i>, Sir <i>Philip’s</i> quondam, five: Not but that +<i>Would-be</i> intended better Fortune to the young ones, than he did +to Sir <i>Philip’s</i> Lady; but her Ladyship was utterly unwilling to +give him over to their Management, tho’ at the last, when they were all +tir’d with the Cards, after <i>Would-be</i> had said as many obliging +things as his present Genius would give him leave, to <i>Philibella</i> +and <i>Lucy</i>, especially to the first, not forgetting his Baisemains +to the Lady <i>Friendly</i>, he bid the Knight and <i>Goodland</i> +adieu; but with a Promise of repeating his Visit at six a-clock in the +Evening on <i>Twelfth-Day</i>, to renew the famous and antient Solemnity +of chusing King and Queen; to which Sir <i>Philip</i> before invited +him, with a Design yet unknown to you, I hope.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone, every one made their Remarks on him, but with +very little or no Difference in all their Figures of him. In short, all +Mankind, had they ever known him, would have universally agreed in this +his Character, That he was an Original; since nothing in Humanity was +ever so vain, so haughty, so profuse, so fond, and so ridiculously +ambitious, as Mr. <i>Would-be King</i>. They laugh’d and talk’d about an +Hour longer, and then +<span class = "pagenum">16</span> +young <i>Goodland</i> was oblig’d to see <i>Lucy</i> home in his Coach; +tho’ he had rather have sat up all Night in the same House with +<i>Philibella</i>, I fancy, of whom he took but an unwilling Leave; +which was visible enough to every one there, since they were all +acquainted with his Passion for my fair Friend.</p> + +<p>About twelve a-clock on the Day prefix’d, young <i>Goodland</i> came +to dine with Sir <i>Philip</i>, whom he found just return’d from Court, +in a very good Humour. On the Sight of <i>Valentine</i>, the Knight ran +to him, and embracing him, told him, That he had prevented his Wishes, +in coming thither before he sent for him, as he had just then design’d. +The other return’d, that he therefore hoped he might be of some Service +to him, by so happy a Prevention of his intended Kindness. No doubt +(reply’d Sir <i>Philip</i>) the Kindness, I hope, will be to us +both; I am assur’d it will, if you will act according to my +Measures. I desire no better Prescriptions for my Happiness +(return’d <i>Valentine</i>) than what you shall please to set down to +me: But is it necessary or convenient that I should know ’em first? It +is, (answer’d Sir <i>Philip</i>) let us sit, and you shall understand +’em.—I am very sensible (continu’d he) of your sincere +and honourable Affection and Pretension to my Niece, who, perhaps, is as +dear to me as my own Child could be, had I one; nor am I ignorant how +averse Sir <i>George</i> your Father is to your Marriage with her, +insomuch that I am confident he would disinherit you immediately upon +it, merely for want of a Fortune somewhat proportionable to your Estate: +but I have now contrived the Means to add two or three thousand Pounds +to the five hundred I have design’d to give with her; I mean, if +you marry her, <i>Val</i>, not otherwise; for I will not labour so for +any other Man. What inviolable Obligations you put upon me! (cry’d +<i>Goodland</i>.) No Return, by way of Compliments, good <i>Val</i>, +(said the Knight:) Had I not engag’d to my Wife, before Marriage, +<span class = "pagenum">17</span> +that I would not dispose of any part of what she brought me, without her +Consent, I would certainly make <i>Philibella’s</i> Fortune +answerable to your Estate: And besides, my Wife is not yet full eight +and twenty, and we may therefore expect Children of our own, which +hinders me from proposing any thing more for the Advantage of my +Niece.—But now to my Instructions;—<i>King</i> will be here +this Evening without fail, and, at some Time or other to-night, will +shew the Haughtiness of his Temper to you, I doubt not, since you +are in a manner a Stranger to him: Be sure therefore you seem to quarrel +with him before you part, but suffer as much as you can first from his +Tongue; for I know he will give you Occasions enough to exercise your +passive Valour. I must appear his Friend, and you must retire Home, +if you please, for this Night, but let me see you as early as your +Convenience will permit to-morrow: my late Friend <i>Lucy</i> must be my +Niece too. Observe this, and leave the rest to me. I shall most +punctually, and will in all things be directed by you, (said +<i>Valentine</i>.) I had forgot to tell you (said <i>Friendly</i>) that +I have so order’d matters, that he must be King to-night, and +<i>Lucy</i> Queen, by the Lots in the Cake. By all means (return’d +<i>Goodland</i>;) it must be Majesty.</p> + +<p>Exactly at six a’clock came <i>Wou’d-be</i> in his Coach and six, and +found Sir <i>Philip</i>, and his Lady, <i>Goodland</i>, +<i>Philibella</i>, and <i>Lucy</i> ready to receive him; <i>Lucy</i> as +fine as a Dutchess, and almost as beautiful as she was before her Fall. +All things were in ample Order for his Entertainment. They play’d till +Supper was serv’d in, which was between eight and nine. The Treat was +very seasonable and splendid. Just as the second Course was set on the +Table, they were all on a sudden surpriz’d, except <i>Would-be</i>, with +a Flourish of Violins, and other Instruments, which proceeded to +entertain ’em with the best and newest Airs in the <a class = "comm" +name = "bantam_commtag1" id = "bantam_commtag1" href = +"#bantam_comm1">last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683</a>. The +Ladies were curious to know to whom they ow’d the chearful +<span class = "pagenum">18</span> +part of their Entertainment: On which he call’d out, Hey! <i>Tom Farmer! +Ale-worth! Eccles! Hall!</i> and the rest of you! Here’s a Health to +these Ladies, and all this honourable Company. They bow’d; he drank, and +commanded another Glass to be fill’d, into which he put something yet +better than the Wine, I mean, ten Guineas: Here, <i>Farmer</i>, +(said he then) this for you and your Friends. We humbly thank the +honourable Mr. <i>Would-be King</i>. They all return’d, and struck up +with more Spriteliness than before. For Gold and Wine, doubtless, are +the best Rosin for Musicians.</p> + +<p>After Supper they took a hearty Glass or two to the King, Queen, +Duke, &c. And then the mighty Cake, teeming with the Fate of this +extraordinary Personage, was brought in, the Musicians playing an +Overture at the Entrance of the <i>Alimental Oracle</i>; which was then +cut and consulted, and the royal Bean and Pea fell to those to whom Sir +<i>Philip</i> had design’d ’em. ’Twas then the Knight began a merry +Bumper, with three Huzza’s, and, <i>Long live King +<em>Would-be!</em></i> to <i>Goodland</i>, who echo’d and pledg’d him, +putting the Glass about to the harmonious Attendants; while the Ladies +drank their own Quantities among themselves, <i>To his aforesaid +Majesty</i>. Then of course you may believe Queen <i>Lucy’s</i> Health +went merrily round, with the same Ceremony: After which he saluted his +Royal Consort, and condescended to do the same Honour to the two other +Ladies.</p> + +<p>Then they fell a dancing, like Lightning; I mean, they mov’d as +swift, and made almost as little Noise; But his Majesty was soon weary +of that; for he long’d to be making love both to <i>Philibella</i> and +<i>Lucy</i>, who (believe me) that Night might well enough have +passed for a Queen.</p> + +<p>They fell then to Questions and Commands; to cross Purposes: +<i>I think a Thought, what is it like?</i> &c. In all which, +his <i>Would-be</i> Majesty took the Opportunity of shewing the +Excellency of his Parts, as, How fit he was +<span class = "pagenum">19</span> +to govern! How dextrous at mining and countermining! and, How he could +reconcile the most contrary and distant Thoughts! The Musick, at last, +good as it was, grew troublesome and too loud; which made him dismiss +them: And then he began to this effect, addressing himself to +<i>Philibella</i>: Madam, had Fortune been just, and were it possible +that the World should be govern’d and influenc’d by two Suns, +undoubtedly we had all been Subjects to you, from this Night’s Chance, +as well as to that Lady, who indeed alone can equal you in the Empire of +Beauty, which yet you share with her Majesty here present, who only +could dispute it with you, and is only superior to you in Title. My Wife +is infinitely oblig’d to your Majesty, (interrupted Sir <i>Philip</i>) +who in my Opinion, has greater Charms, and more than both of them +together. You ought to think so, Sir <i>Philip</i> (returned the new +dubb’d King) however you should not liberally have express’d your self, +in Opposition and Derogation to Majesty:—Let me tell you ’tis a +saucy Boldness that thus has loos’d your Tongue!—What think you, +young Kinsman and Counsellor? (said he to <i>Goodland</i>.) With all +Respect due to your sacred Title, (return’d <i>Valentene</i>, rising and +bowing) Sir <i>Philip</i> spoke as became a truly affectionate Husband; +and it had been Presumption in him, unpardonable, to have seem’d to +prefer her Majesty, or that other sweet Lady, in his Thoughts, since +your Majesty has been pleas’d to say so much and so particularly of +their Merits: ’Twould appear as if he durst lift up his Eyes, with +Thoughts too near the Heaven you only would enjoy. And only can deserve, +you should have added, (said <i>King</i>, no longer <i>Would-be</i>.) +How! may it please your Majesty (cry’d <i>Friendly</i>) both my Nieces! +tho’ you deserve ten thousand more, and better, would your Majesty enjoy +them both? Are they then both your Nieces? (asked Chance’s King). Yes, +both, Sir (return’d the Knight,) her Majesty’s the eldest, and in that +Fortune has shewn some Justice. So +<span class = "pagenum">20</span> +she has (reply’d the titular Monarch<ins class = "correction" title = +"close parenthesis missing">):</ins> My Lot is fair (pursu’d he) +tho’ I can be bless’d but with one.</p> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>Let Majesty with Majesty be join’d,</p> +<p>To get and leave a Race of Kings behind.</p> +</div> + +<p>Come, Madam (continued he, kissing <i>Lucy</i><ins class = "correction" title = +"close parenthesis missing">,)</ins> this, as an Earnest +of our future Endeavours. I fear (return’d the pretty Queen) your +Majesty will forget the unhappy <a class = "comm" name = +"bantam_commtag2" id = "bantam_commtag2" href = +"#bantam_comm2"><i>Statira</i></a>, when you return to the Embraces of +your dear and beautiful <a class = "comm" href = +"#bantam_comm2"><i>Roxana</i></a>. There is none beautiful but you +(reply’d the titular King) unless this Lady, to whom I yet could pay my +Vows most zealously, were’t not that Fortune has thus pre-engaged me. +But, Madam (continued he) to shew that still you hold our Royal +Favour, and that, next to our Royal Consort, we esteem you, we greet you +thus (kissing <i>Philibella</i>;) and as a Signal of our continued Love, +wear this rich Diamond: (here he put a Diamond Ring on her Finger, worth +three hundred Pounds.) Your Majesty (pursu’d he to <i>Lucy</i>) may +please to wear this Necklace, with this Locket of Emeralds. Your Majesty +is bounteous as a God! (said <i>Valentine</i>.) Art thou in Want, young +Spark? (ask’d the King of <i>Bantam</i>) I’ll give thee an Estate shall +make thee merit the Mistress of thy Vows, be she who she will. That is +my other Niece, Sir, (cry’d <i>Friendly</i>.) How! how! presumptious +Youth! How are thy Eyes and Thoughts exalted? ha! To Bliss your Majesty +must never hope for, (reply’d <i>Goodland</i>.) How now! thou Creature +of the basest Mold! Not hope for what thou dost aspire to! +<i>Mock-King</i>; thou canst not, dar’st not, shalt not hope it: +(return’d <i>Valentine</i> in a heat.) Hold, <i>Val</i>, (cry’d Sir +<i>Philip</i>) you grow warm, forget your Duty to their Majesties, and +abuse your Friends, by making us suspected. Good-night, dear +<i>Philibella</i>, and my Queen! Madam, I am your Ladyship’s +Servant (said <i>Goodland</i>:) Farewel, Sir <i>Philip</i>: Adieu, thou +Pageant! thou Property-King! I shall see thy Brother on the Stage +ere long; but +<span class = "pagenum">21</span> +first I’ll visit thee: and in the meantime, by way of Return to thy +proffer’d Estate, I shall add a real Territory to the rest of thy +empty Titles; for from thy Education, barbarous manner of Conversation, +and Complexion, I think I may justly proclaim thee, <i>King of +<em>Bantam</em></i>—So, <i>Hail, King that Would-be! Hail +thou King of <em>Christmas</em>! All-hail, Wou’d-be King of +<em>Bantam</em></i>—and so he left ’em.—They all seem’d +amazed, and gaz’d on one another, without speaking a Syllable; ’till Sir +<i>Philip</i> broke the Charm, and sigh’d out, Oh, the monstrous Effects +of Passion! Say rather, Oh, the foolish Effects of a mean Education! +(interrupted his Majesty of <i>Bantam</i>.) For Passions were given us +for Use, Reason to govern and direct us in the Use, and Education to +cultivate and refine that Reason. But (pursu’d he) for all his +Impudence to me, which I shall take a time to correct, I am oblig’d +to him, that at last he has found me out a Kingdom to my Title; and if I +were Monarch of that Place (believe me, Ladies) I would make you +all Princesses and Duchesses; and thou, my old Companion, +<i>Friendly</i>, should rule the Roast with me. But these Ladies should +be with us there, where we could erect Temples and Altars to ’em; build +Golden Palaces of Love, and Castles—in the Air (interrupted her +Majesty, <i>Lucy</i> I. smiling.) ‘Gad take me (cry’d King +<i>Wou’d-be</i>) thou dear Partner of my Greatness, and shalt be, of all +my Pleasures! thy pretty satirical Observation has oblig’d me beyond +Imitation<ins class = "correction" title = "close quote missing">.’</ins> +I think your Majesty is got into a Vein of Rhiming +to-night, (said <i>Philadelphia</i>.) Ay! Pox of that young insipid Fop, +we could else have been as great as an Emperor of <i>China</i>, and as +witty as <i>Horace</i> in his Wine; but let him go, like a pragmatical, +captious, giddy Fool as he is! I shall take a Time to see him. Nay, +Sir, (said <i>Philibella</i>) he has promis’d your Majesty a Visit in +our Hearing. Come, Sir, I beg your Majesty to pledge me this Glass +to your long and happy Reign; laying aside all Thoughts of ungovern’d +Youth: +<span class = "pagenum">22</span> +Besides, this Discourse must needs be ungrateful to her Majesty, to +whom, I fear, he will be marry’d within this Month! How! (cry’d +<i>King and no King</i>) married to my Queen! I must not, cannot +suffer it! Pray restrain your self a little, Sir (said Sir +<i>Philip</i>) and when once these Ladies have left us, I will +discourse your Majesty further about this Business. Well, pray, Sir +<i>Philip</i>, (said his Lady) let not your Worship be pleas’d to sit up +too long for his Majesty: About five o’Clock I shall expect you; ’tis +your old Hour. And yours, Madam, to wake to receive me coming to +Bed—Your Ladyship understands me, (return’d <i>Friendly</i>.) +You’re merry, my Love, you’re merry, (cry’d <i>Philadelphia</i>:) Come, +Niece, to Bed! to Bed! Ay, (said the Knight) Go, both of you and sleep +together, if you can, without the Thoughts of a Lover, or a Husband. His +Majesty was pleas’d to wish them a good Repose; and so, with a Kiss, +they parted for that time.</p> + +<p>Now we’re alone (said Sir <i>Philip</i>) let me assure you, Sir, +I resent this Affront done to you by Mr. <i>Goodland</i>, almost as +highly as you can: and tho’ I can’t wish that you should take such +Satisfaction, as perhaps some other hotter Sparks would; yet let me say, +his Miscarriage ought not to go unpunish’d in him. Fear not (reply’d +t’other) I shall give him a sharp Lesson. No, Sir (return’d +<i>Friendly</i>) I would not have you think of a bloody Revenge; for +’tis that which possibly he designs on you: I know him brave as any +Man. However, were it convenient that the Sword should determine betwixt +you, you should not want mine: The Affront is partly to me, since done +in my House; but I’ve already laid down safer Measures for us, tho’ of +more fatal Consequence to him: that is, I’ve form’d them in my Thoughts. +Dismiss your Coach and Equipage, all but one Servant, and I will +discourse it to you at large. ’Tis now past Twelve; and if you please, +I would invite you to take up as easy a Lodging here, as my House +will afford. (Accordingly they were dismiss’d, and he +<span class = "pagenum">23</span> +proceeded:)—As I hinted to you before, he is in love with my +youngest Niece, <i>Philibella</i>; but her Fortune not exceeding five +hundred Pound, his Father will assuredly disinherit him, if he marries +her: tho’ he has given his Consent that he should marry her eldest +Sister, whose Father dying ere he knew his Wife was with child of the +youngest, left <i>Lucy</i> three thousand Pounds, being as much as he +thought convenient to match her handsomly; and accordingly the Nuptials +of young <i>Goodland</i> and <i>Lucy</i> are to be celebrated next +<i>Easter</i>. They shall not, if I can hinder them (interrupted his +offended Majesty.) Never endeavour the Obstruction (said the Knight) for +I’ll shew you the Way to a dearer Vengeance: Women are Women, your +Majesty knows; she may be won to your Embraces before that time, and +then you antedate him your Creature. A Cuckold, you mean (cry’d +King in Fancy:) O exquisite Revenge! but can you consent that I +should attempt it? What is’t to me? We live not in <i>Spain</i>, where +all the Relations of the Family are oblig’d to vindicate a Whore: No, +I would wound him in his most tender Part. But how shall we compass +it? (ask’d t’other.) Why thus, throw away three thousand Pounds on the +youngest Sister, as a Portion, to make her as happy as she can be in her +new Lover, Sir <i>Frederick Flygold</i>, an extravagant young Fop, and +wholly given over to Gaming; so, ten to one, but you may retrieve your +Money of him, and have the two Sisters at your Devotion. Oh, thou my +better Genius than that which was given to me by Heaven at my Birth! +What Thanks, what Praises shall I return and sing to thee for this! +(cry’d King <i>Conundrum</i>.) No Thanks, no Praises, I beseech +your Majesty, since in this I gratify my self—You think I am your +Friend? and, you will agree to this? (said <i>Friendly</i>, by way of +Question.) Most readily, (returned the Fop King:) Would it were broad +Day, that I might send for the Money to my Banker’s; for in all my Life, +in all my Frolicks, Encounters and Extravagances, I never +<span class = "pagenum">24</span> +had one so grateful, and so pleasant as this will be, if you are in +earnest, to gratify both my Love and Revenge! That I am in earnest, you +will not doubt, when you see with what Application I shall pursue my +Design: In the mean Time, <i>My Duty to your Majesty; To our good +Success in this Affair</i>. While he drank, t’other return’d, <i>With +all my Heart</i>; and pledg’d him. Then <i>Friendly</i> began afresh: +Leave the whole Management of this to me; only one thing more I think +necessary, that you make a Present of five hundred Guineas to her +Majesty, the Bride that must be. By all means (return’d the wealthy King +of <i>Bantam</i>;) I had so design’d before. Well, Sir (said Sir +<i>Philip</i>) what think you of a set Party or two at <i>Piquet</i>, to +pass away a few Hours, till we can sleep? A seasonable and welcome +Proposition (returned the King;) but I won’t play above twenty Guineas +the Game, and <a class = "comm" name = "bantam_commtag3" id = +"bantam_commtag3" href = "#bantam_comm3">forty the Lurch</a>. Agreed +(said <i>Friendly</i>;) first call in your Servant; mine is here +already. The Slave came in, and they began, with unequal Fortune at +first; for the Knight had lost a hundred Guineas to Majesty, which he +paid in Specie; and then propos’d fifty Guineas the Game, and a hundred +the Lurch. To which t’other consented; and without winning more than +three Games, and those not together, made shift to get three thousand +two hundred Guineas in debt to Sir <i>Philip</i>; for which Majesty was +pleas’d to give him Bond, whether <i>Friendly</i> would or no,</p> + +<p class = "center"> +<i>Seal’d and deliver’d in the Presence of</i>,</p> + +<p class = "right"> +The Mark of (<i>W.</i>) <i>Will. Watchful</i>.<br> +And, (<ins class = "correction" title = "no ."><i>S</i></ins>) <i>Sim. +Slyboots</i>.  </p> + +<p>A couple of delicate Beagles, their mighty Attendants.</p> + +<p>It was then about the Hour that Sir <i>Philip’s</i> (and, it may be, +other Ladies) began to yawn and stretch; when the Spirits refresh’d, +troul’d about, and tickled the Blood with Desires of Action; which made +Majesty and Worship think of a Retreat to Bed: where in less than half +an Hour, +<span class = "pagenum">25</span> +or before ever he cou’d say his Prayers, I’m sure the first fell fast +asleep; but the last, perhaps, paid his accustom’d Devotion, ere he +begun his Progress to the Shadow of Death. However, he waked earlier +than his Cully Majesty, and got up to receive young <i>Goodland</i>, who +came according to his Word, with the first Opportunity. Sir +<i>Philip</i> receiv’d him with more than usual Joy, tho’ not with +greater Kindness, and let him know every Syllable and Accident that had +pass’d between them till they went to Bed: which you may believe was not +a little pleasantly surprizing to <i>Valentine</i>, who began then to +have some Assurance of his Happiness with <i>Philibella</i>. His Friend +told him, that he must now be reconcil’d to his <i>Mock-Majesty</i>, +tho’ with some Difficulty; and so taking one hearty Glass a-piece, he +left <i>Valentine</i> in the Parlour to carry the ungrateful News of his +Visit to him that Morning. King <span class = +"dash">——</span> was in an odd sort of taking, when he heard +that <i>Valentine</i> was below; and had been, as Sir <i>Philip</i> +inform’d <i>Majesty</i>, at <i>Majesty’s</i> Palace, to enquire for him +there: But when he told him, that he had already school’d him on his own +Behalf, for the Affront done in his House, and that he believ’d he could +bring his Majesty off without any loss of present Honour, his +Countenance visibly discover’d his past Fear, and present Satisfaction; +which was much encreas’d too, when <i>Friendly</i> shewing him his Bond +for the Money he won of him at play, let him know, that if he paid three +thousand Guineas to <i>Philibella</i>, he would immediately deliver him +up his Bond, and not expect the two hundred Guineas overplus. His +Majesty of <i>Bantam</i> was then in so good a Humour, that he could +have made Love to Sir <i>Philip</i>; nay, I believe he could have +kiss’d <i>Valentine</i>, instead of seeming angry. Down they came, and +saluted like Gentlemen: But after the Greeting was over, <i>Goodland</i> +began to talk something of Affront, Satisfaction, Honour, <i>&c.</i> +when immediately <i>Friendly</i> interpos’d, and after a little seeming +Uneasiness and Reluctancy, +<span class = "pagenum">26</span> +reconcil’d the hot and cholerick Youth to the cold phlegmatick King.</p> + +<p>Peace was no sooner proclaim’d, than the King of <i>Bantam</i> took +his Rival and late Antagonist with him in his own Coach, not excluding +Sir <i>Philip</i> by any means, to <a class = "comm" name = +"bantam_commtag4" id = "bantam_commtag4" href = +"#bantam_comm4"><i>Locket’s</i>, where they din’d</a>: Thence he would +have ’em to Court with him, where he met the Lady <i>Flippant</i>, the +Lady <i>Harpy</i>, the Lady <i>Crocodile</i>, Madam <i>Tattlemore</i>, +Miss <i>Medler</i>, Mrs. <i>Gingerly</i>, a rich Grocer’s Wife, and +some others, besides Knights and Gentlemen of as good Humours as the +Ladies; all whom he invited to a Ball at his own House, the Night +following; his own Lady being then in the Country. Madam +<i>Tattlemore</i>, I think was the first he spoke to in Court, and whom +first he surpriz’d with the happy News of his Advancement to the Title +of King of <i>Bantam</i>. How wondrous hasty was she to be gone, as soon +as she heard it! ’Twas not in her Power, because not in her Nature, to +stay long enough to take a civil Leave of the Company; but away she +flew, big with the empty Title of a fantastick King, proclaiming it to +every one of her Acquaintance, as she passed through every Room, till +she came to the <i>Presence-Chamber</i>, where she only whisper’d it; +but her Whispers made above half the honourable Company quit the +Presence of the King of <i>Great-Britain</i>, to go make their Court to +his Majesty of <i>Bantam</i>: some cry’d, <i>God bless your Majesty!</i> +Some <i>Long live the King of <em>Bantam</em>!</i> Others, <i>All Hail +to your Sacred Majesty</i>; In short, he was congratulated on all Sides. +Indeed I don’t hear that his Majesty King <i>Charles</i> II. ever sent +an Ambassador to compliment him; tho’ possibly, he saluted him by his +Title the first time he saw him afterwards: For, you know, he is a +wonderful good-natur’d and well-bred Gentleman.</p> + +<p>After he thought the Court of <i>England</i> was universally +acquainted with his mighty Honour, he was pleas’d to think fit to retire +to his own more private Palace, with Sir <i>Philip</i> and +<span class = "pagenum">27</span> +<i>Goodland</i>, whom he entertain’d that Night very handsomly, till +about seven o’Clock; when they went together to the Play, which was that +Night, <a class = "comm" name = "bantam_commtag5" id = "bantam_commtag5" +href = "#bantam_comm5"><i>A King and no King</i></a>. His +Attendant-Friends could not forbear smiling, to think how aptly the +Title of the Play suited his Circumstances. Nor could he choose but take +Notice of it behind the Scenes, between Jest and Earnest; telling the +Players how kind Fortune had been the Night past, in disposing the Bean +to him; and justifying what one of her Prophetesses had foretold some +Years since. I shall now no more regard (said he) that old +doating Fellow <i>Pythagoras’s</i> Saying <i>Abstineto a Fabis</i>, That +is, (added he, by way of Construction) <i>Abstain from Beans</i>: for I +find the Excellency of ’em in Cakes and Dishes; from the first, they +inspire the Soul with mighty Thoughts; and from the last our Bodies +receive a strong and wholesom Nourishment. That is, (said a Wag among +those sharp Youths, I think ’twas my Friend the Count) these puff +you up in Mind, Sir, those in Body. They had some further Discourse +among the Nymphs of the Stage, ere they went into the Pit; where Sir +<i>Philip</i> spread the News of his Friend’s Accession to the Title, +tho’ not yet to the Throne of <i>Bantam</i>; upon which he was there +again complimented on that Occasion. Several of the Ladies and Gentlemen +who saluted him, he invited to the next Night’s Ball at his Palace.</p> + +<p>The Play done, they took each of them a Bottle at <a class = "comm" +name = "bantam_commtag6" id = "bantam_commtag6" href = +"#bantam_comm6">the <i>Rose</i></a>, and parted till Seven the Night +following; which came not sooner than desired: for he had taken such +Care, that all things were in readiness before Eight, only he was not to +expect the Musick till the End of the Play. About Nine, Sir +<i>Philip</i>, his Lady, <i>Goodland</i>, <i>Philibella</i>, and +<i>Lucy</i> came. Sir <i>Philip</i> return’d him <i>Rabelais</i>, which +he had borrow’d of him, wherein the Knight had written, in an old odd +sort of a Character, this Prophecy of his own making; with which he +surpriz’d the Majesty of <i>Bantam</i>, who vow’d he had never taken +Notice of it before; but +<span class = "pagenum">28</span> +he said, he perceiv’d it had been long written by the Character; and +here it follows, as near as I can remember:</p> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>When <em>M. D. C.</em> come <em>L.</em> before,</p> +<p>Three <em>XXX</em>’s, two II’s and one I. more;</p> +<p>Then <em><span class = "extended">KING</span></em>, tho’ now but Name +to thee,</p> +<p>Shall both thy Name and Title be.</p> +</div> + +<p>They had hardly made an End of reading it, ere the whole Company, and +more than he had invited, came in, and were receiv’d with a great deal +of Formality and Magnificence. <i>Lucy</i> was there attended as his +Queen; and <i>Philibella</i>, as the Princess her Sister. They danc’d +then till they were weary; and afterwards retired to another large Room, +where they found the Tables spread and furnished with all the most +seasonable cold Meat; which was succeeded by the choicest Fruits, and +the richest Desert of Sweetmeats that Luxury could think on, or at least +that this Town could afford. The Wines were all most excellent in their +Kind; and their Spirits flew about thro’ every Corner of the House: +There was scarce a Spark sober in the whole Company, with drinking +repeated Glasses to the Health of the King of <i>Bantam</i>, and his +Royal Consort, with the Princess <i>Philibella’s</i> who sat together +under a Royal Canopy of State, his Majesty between the two beautiful +Sisters: only <i>Friendly</i> and <i>Goodland</i> wisely manag’d that +part of the Engagement where they were concern’d, and preserv’d +themselves from the Heat of the Debauch.</p> + +<p>Between Three and Four most of them began to draw off, laden with +Fruit and Sweetmeats, and rich Favours compos’d of Yellow, Green, Red +and White, the Colours of his new Majesty of <i>Bantam</i>. Before Five +they were left to themselves; when the Lady <i>Friendly</i> was +discompos’d, for want of Sleep, and her usual Cordial, which obliged Sir +<i>Philip</i> to wait on her Home, with his two Nieces: But his Majesty +would by no means part with +<span class = "pagenum">29</span> +<i>Goodland</i>; whom, before Nine that Morning, he made as drunk as a +Lord, and by Consequence, one of his Peers; for Majesty was then, +indeed, as great as an Emperor: He fancy’d himself <i>Alexander</i>, and +young <i>Valentine</i> his <i>Hephestion</i>; and did so be-buss him, +that the young Gentleman fear’d he was fallen into the Hands of an +<i>Italian</i>. However, by the kind Persuasions of his condescending +and dissembling Majesty, he ventur’d to go into Bed with him; where King +<i>Would-be</i> fell asleep, hand-over-head: and not long after, +<i>Goodland</i>, his new-made Peer, follow’d him to the cool Retreats of +<i>Morpheus</i>.</p> + +<p>About Three the next Afternoon they both wak’d, as by consent, and +called to dress. And after that Business was over, I think they +swallow’d each of ’em a Pint of <i>Old-Hock</i>, with a little Sugar, by +the way of healing. Their Coaches were got ready in the mean time; but +the Peer was forced to accept of the Honour of being carried in his +Majesty’s to Sir <i>Philip’s</i>, whom they found just risen from +Dinner, with <i>Philadelphia</i> and his two Nieces. They sat down, and +ask’d for something to relish a Glass of Wine, and Sir <i>Philip</i> +order’d a cold Chine to be set before ’em, of which they eat about an +Ounce a-piece; but they drank more by half, I dare say.</p> + +<p>After their little Repast, <i>Friendly</i> call’d the +<i>Would-be-Monarch</i> aside, and told him, that he would have him go +to the Play that Night, which was <a class = "comm" name = +"bantam_commtag7" id = "bantam_commtag7" href = "#bantam_comm7"><i>The +London-Cuckolds</i></a>; promising to meet him there in less than half +an Hour after his Departure: telling him withal, that he would surprize +him with a much better Entertainment than the Stage afforded. +<i>Majesty</i> took the Hint, imagining, and that rightly, that the +Knight had some Intrigue in his Head, for the Promotion of the +Commonwealth of Cuckoldom: In order therefore to his Advice, he took his +leave about a quarter of an Hour after.</p> + +<p>When he was gone, Sir <i>Philip</i> thus bespoke his pretended Niece: +Madam, I hope your Majesty will not +<span class = "pagenum">30</span> +refuse me the Honour of waiting on you to a Place where you will meet +with better Entertainment than your Majesty can expect from the best +Comedy in Christendom. <i>Val</i>, (continued he) you must go with +us, to secure me against the Jealousy of my Wife. That, indeed (return’d +his Lady) is very material; and you are mightily concern’d not to give +me Occasion, I must own. You see I am now, (replied he:) +But—come! on with Hoods and Scarf! (pursued he, to <i>Lucy</i>.) +Then addressing himself again to his Lady; Madam, (said he) we’ll +wait on you. In less Time than I could have drank a Bottle to my Share, +the Coach was got ready, and on they drove to the Play-House. By the +way, said <i>Friendly</i> to <i>Val.</i>—<a class = "comm" name = +"bantam_commtag8" id = "bantam_commtag8" href = "#bantam_comm8">Your +Honour, noble Peer, must be set down at <i>Long’s</i></a>; for only +<i>Lucy</i> and I must be seen to his Majesty of <i>Bantam</i>: And now, +I doubt not, you understand what you must trust to.—To be +robb’d of her Majesty’s Company, I warrant (return’d the other) for +these long three Hours. Why (cry’d <i>Lucy</i>) you don’t mean, +I hope, to leave me with his Majesty of <i>Bantam</i>? ’Tis for thy +Good, Child! ’Tis for thy Good (return’d <i>Friendly</i>.) To the +<i>Rose</i> they got then; where <i>Goodland</i> alighted, and expected +Sir <i>Philip</i>; who led <i>Lucy</i> into <a class = "comm" name = +"bantam_commtag9" id = "bantam_commtag9" href = "#bantam_comm9">the +King’s Box</a>, to his new Majesty; where, after the first Scene, he +left them together. The over-joy’d fantastick Monarch would fain have +said some fine obliging Things to the Knight, as he was going out; but +<i>Friendly’s</i> Haste prevented ’em, who went directly to +<i>Valentine</i>, took one Glass, call’d a Reckoning, mounted his +Chariot, and away Home they came: where I believe he was welcome to his +Lady; for I never heard any thing to the contrary.</p> + +<p>In the mean Time, his Majesty had not the Patience to stay out half +the Play, at which he was saluted by above twenty Gentlemen and Ladies +by his new and mighty Title: but out he led Miss Majesty ere the third +Act was half done; pretending, that it was so damn’d a bawdy Play, that +he knew her Modesty had been already but +<span class = "pagenum">31</span> +too much offended at it; so into his Coach he got her. When they were +seated, she told him she would go to no Place with him, but to the +Lodgings her Mother had taken for her, when she first came to Town, and +which still she kept. Your Mother, Madam, (cry’d he) why, is Sir +<i>Philip’s</i> Sister living then? His Brother’s Widow is, Sir, (she +reply’d.) Is she there? (he ask’d.) No, Sir, (she return’d;) she is +in the Country. Oh, then we will go thither to chuse. The Coach-man was +then order’d to drive to <a class = "comm" name = "bantam_commtag10" id += "bantam_commtag10" href = "#bantam_comm10"><i>Jermain-Street</i></a>; +where, when he came in to the Lodgings, he found ’em very rich and +modishly furnish’d. He presently call’d one of his Slaves, and whisper’d +him to get three or four pretty Dishes for Supper; and then getting a +Pen, Ink and Paper, writ a Note to <i>C<span class = +"dash">——</span>d</i> the Goldsmith with <i>Temple-Bar</i>, +for five hundred guineas; which <i>Watchful</i> brought him, in less +than an Hour’s time, when they were just in the Height of Supper; +<i>Lucy</i> having invited her Landlady, for the better Colour of the +Matter. His <i>Bantamite</i> Majesty took the Gold from his Slave, and +threw it by him in the Window, that <i>Lucy</i> might take Notice of it; +(which you may assure yourself she did, and after Supper wink’d on the +goodly Matron of the House to retire, which she immediately obey’d.) +Then his Majesty began his Court very earnestly and hotly, throwing the +naked Guineas into her Lap: which she seemed to refuse with much +Disdain; but upon his repeated Promises, confirm’d by unheard of Oaths +and Imprecations, that he would give her Sister three thousand Guineas +to her Portion, she began by Degrees to mollify, and let the Gold lie +quietly in her Lap: And the next Night, after he had drawn Notes on two +or three of his Bankers, for the Payment of three thousand Guineas to +Sir <i>Philip</i>, or Order, and received his own Bond, made for what he +had lost at Play, from <i>Friendly</i>, she made no great Difficulty to +admit his Majesty to her Bed. Where I think fit to leave ’em +<span class = "pagenum">32</span> +for the present; for (perhaps) they had some private Business.</p> + +<p>The next Morning before the Titular King was (I won’t say up, or +stirring, but) out of Bed, young <i>Goodland</i> and <i>Philibella</i> +were privately marry’d; the Bills being all accepted and paid in two +Days Time. As soon as ever the fantastick Monarch could find in his +Heart to divorce himself from the dear and charming Embraces of his +beautiful Bedfellow, he came flying to Sir <i>Philip</i>, with all the +Haste that Imagination big with Pleasure could inspire him with, to +discharge it self to a suppos’d Friend. The Knight told him, that he was +really much troubled to find that his Niece had yielded so soon and +easily to him; however, he wish’d him Joy: To which the other return’d, +that he could never want it, whilst he had the Command of so much +Beauty, and that without the ungrateful Obligations of Matrimony, which +certainly are the most nauseous, hateful, pernicious and destructive of +Love imaginable. Think you so, Sir? (ask’d the Knight;) we shall hear +what a Friend of mine will say on such an Occasion, to-morrow about this +Time: but I beseech your Majesty to conceal your Sentiments of it to +him, lest you make him as uneasy as you seem to be in that Circumstance. +Be assur’d I will, (return’d the other:) But when shall I see the sweet, +the dear, the blooming, the charming <i>Philibella</i>? She will be with +us at Dinner. Where’s her Majesty? (ask’d Sir <i>Philip</i>) Had you +enquir’d before, she had been here; for, look, she comes! +<i>Friendly</i> seems to regard her with a Kind of Displeasure, and +whisper’d Majesty, that he should express no particular Symptoms of +Familiarity with <i>Lucy</i> in his House, at any Time, especially when +<i>Goodland</i> was there, as then he was above with his Lady and +<i>Philibella</i>, who came down presently after to Dinner.</p> + +<p>About Four o’Clock, as his Majesty had intrigu’d with her, +<i>Lucy</i> took a Hackney-Coach, and went to her +<span class = "pagenum">33</span> +Lodgings; whither about an Hour after, he follow’d her, Next Morning, at +nine, he came to <i>Friendly’s</i>, who carry’d him up to see his +new-married Friends—But (O Damnation to Thoughts!) what +Torments did he feel, when he saw young <i>Goodland</i> and +<i>Philibella</i> in bed together; the last of which return’d him humble +and hearty Thanks for her Portion and Husband, as the first did for his +Wife. He shook his Head at Sir <i>Philip</i>, and without speaking one +Word, left ’em, and hurry’d to <i>Lucy</i>, to lament the ill Treatment +he had met with from <i>Friendly</i>. They coo’d and bill’d as long as +he was able; she (sweet Hypocrite) seeming to bemoan his Misfortunes; +which he took so kindly, that when he left her, which was about three in +the Afternoon, he caus’d a Scrivener to draw up an Instrument, wherein +he settled a hundred Pounds a Year on <i>Lucy</i> for her Life, and gave +her a hundred Guineas more against her Lying-in: (For she told him, and +indeed ’twas true, that she was with child, and knew her self to be so +from a very good Reason—) And indeed she was so—by the +<i>Friendly</i> Knight. When he return’d to her, he threw the obliging +Instrument into her Lap; (it seems he had a particular Kindness for +that Place—) then call’d for Wine, and something to eat; for he +had not drank a Pint to his Share all the Day, (tho’ he had ply’d it at +the Chocolate-House.—) The Landlady, who was invited to sup with +’em, bid ’em good-night, about eleven; when they went to bed, and partly +slept till about six; when they were entertain’d by some Gentleman of +their Acquaintance, who play’d and sung very finely, by way of +<i>Epithalamium</i>, these Words and more:</p> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>Joy to great <em>Bantam!</em></p> +<p>Live long, love and wanton!</p> +<p>And thy Royal Consort!</p> +<p>For both are of one Sort, <em>&c.</em></p> +</div> + +<p>The rest I have forgot. He took some Offence at the +<span class = "pagenum">34</span> +Words; but more at the Visit that Sir <i>Philip</i>, and +<i>Goodland</i>, made him, about an Hour after, who found him in Bed +with his Royal Consort; and <a class = "comm" name = "bantam_commtag11" +id = "bantam_commtag11" href = "#bantam_comm11">after having wish’d ’em +Joy, and thrown their Majesties own Shoes and Stockings</a> at their +Head, retir’d. This gave Monarch in Fancy so great a Caution that he +took his Royal Consort into the Country, (but above forty Miles off the +Place where his own Lady was) where, in less than eight Months, she was +deliver’d of a Princely Babe, who was Christen’d by the Heathenish Name +of <i>Hayoumorecake Bantam</i>, while her Majesty lay in like a pretty +Queen.</p> + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "bantam_notes" id = "bantam_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The King of Bantam.</h5> + +<p class = "mynote"> +The header for the “King of Bantam” notes is misprinted, placed +between the two notes for p. 30 instead of between pgs. 9 and 17. +The story begins on p. 11.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm1" id = "bantam_comm1" href = +"#bantam_commtag1">p. 17</a> +<i>last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683</i>. The new plays acted +at the Theatre Royal in 1682 were: Southerne’s <i>The Loyal Brother; or, +The Persian Prince</i>; Tate’s <i>Ingratitude of a Commonwealth; or, The +Fall of Caius Marius Coriolanus</i>; Settle’s <i>The Heir of Morocco, +with the Death of Gayland</i>; Banks’ <i>The Unhappy Favourite; or, the +Earl of Essex</i>; D’Urfey’s <i>The Injur’d Princess; or, The Fatal +Wager</i>. There were also an unusual number of revivals of the older +plays at this house. At Dorset Garden the following were produced: +Otway’s <i>Venice Preserved; or, A Plot Discovered</i>; Mrs. Behn’s +<i>The City Heiress; or, Sir Timothy Treatall</i>; D’Urfey’s <i>The +Royalist</i>; Mrs. Behn’s <i>The False Count; or, A New Way to Play +an Old Game</i>; Banks’ <i>Virtue Betray’d; or, Anna Bullen</i>; Mrs. +Behn’s <i>The Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause</i>; Ravenscroft’s +<i>The London Cuckolds</i>; and <i>Romulus and Hersilia; or, The Sabine +War</i>, an anonymous tragedy. There were also notable revivals of +Randolph’s <i>The Jealous Lovers</i>, and Fletcher’s <i>The Maid in the +Mill</i>. The two Companies amalgamated in the autumn, opening at the +Theatre Royal, 16 November, for which occasion a special Prologue and +Epilogue were written by Dryden. 4 December, Dryden and Lee’s +famous +<span class = "pagenum">516</span> +tragedy, <i>The Duke of Guise</i>, had a triumphant first night. It will +be remembered that Mrs. Behn is writing of incidents which took place on +6 January, 1683, Twelfth Night, so ‘the last new plays’ must refer to +the productions of 1682. Of course, fresh songs, and probably musical +entertainments, would be inserted at the different revivals of the older +plays which were so frequent during that year.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm2" id = "bantam_comm2" href = +"#bantam_commtag2">p. 20</a> +<i>Statira, . . . Roxana.</i> In allusion to the two rival princesses +for Alexander’s love as they appear in Nat Lee’s famous tragedy, <i>The +Rival Queens; or, Alexander the Great</i>, produced at Drury Lane, 1677. +It held the stage over a century and a half, longest of his plays, and +is indeed an excellent piece. Originally, Hart played Alexander; Mrs. +Marshall, the glowing Roxana; and Mrs. Boutell, Statira. Genest +chronicles a performance at Drury Lane, 23 June, 1823, with Kean as +Alexander; Mrs. W. West, Statira; Mrs. Glover, Roxana.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm3" id = "bantam_comm3" href = +"#bantam_commtag3">p. 24</a> +<i>forty the Lurch</i>. ‘Lurch’ is a very common old term (now rare) +‘used in various games to denote a certain concluding state of the game +in which one player is enormously ahead of the other; often a “maiden +set” or love-game’—<i>N.E.D.</i> cf. Urquhart’s <i>Rabelais</i> +(1653), II, xii: ‘By two of my table-men in the corner point I have +gained the lurch.’ Gouldman’s <i>Latin Dictionary</i> (1674), gives: +‘A lurch; <i>duplex palma, facilis victoria</i>.’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm4" id = "bantam_comm4" href = +"#bantam_commtag4">p. 26</a> +<i>to Locket’s, where they din’d</i>. This fashionable Ordinary stood on +the site of Drummond’s Bank, Charing Cross. It was named from Adam +Locket, the landlord, who died in 1688. In 1702, however, we find an +Edward Locket, probably a son, as proprietor. The reputation of the +house was on the wane during the latter years of Anne, and in the reign +of George I its vogue entirely ceased. There are very frequent +references. In <i>The Country Wife</i> (1675), Horner tells Pinchwife: +‘Thou art as shy of my kindness as a Lombard-street alderman of a +courtier’s civility at Locket’s’ (iv, <span class = +"smallroman">III</span>). In Shadwell’s <i>The Scowerers</i> (1691), old +Tope, replying to a health, cries: ‘I’ll answer you in a couple of +Brimmers of Claret at Locket’s at Dinner’ (i, <span class = +"smallroman">I</span>). In Vanbrugh’s <i>The Relapse</i> (1696), Lord +Foppington, when asked if he dines at home, surmises: ‘’tis passible I +may dine with some of aur House at Lacket’s,’ which shows that it was +then the very rendezvous of fashion and quality.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm5" id = "bantam_comm5" href = +"#bantam_commtag5">p. 27</a> +<i>A King and no King.</i> Langbaine testifies to the popularity of +Beaumont and Fletcher’s play both before and after the Restoration. +Pepys saw it 14 March, 1661, and again, 26 September the same year. The +1676 quarto ‘as it is now acted at the Theatre Royal by his Majestie’s +Servants’ gives a full cast with Hart as Arbaces; Kynaston, Tigranes; +Mohun, Mardonius; Lacy, Bessus; Mrs. Betty Cox, Panthea; Mrs. Marshall, +Spaconia. In the earlier production Nell Gwynne had acted Panthea. The +two Companies amalgamated in 1682, opening 16 November. Hart ‘never +Acted more’ after this date. Mrs. Marshall had retired in 1677; and in +1683 Betterton was playing Arbaces with quite a new allotment of the +other rôles.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm6" id = "bantam_comm6" href = +"#bantam_commtag6">p. 27</a> +<i>The Rose.</i> There are repeated references to this celebrated tavern +which stood in Russell Street, Covent Garden. <i>vide</i> <i>The Younger +<span class = "pagenum">517</span> +Brother</i>, i, <span class = "smallroman">II</span> (Vol. IV), +Motteux’ Song: ‘Thence to the Rose where he takes his three Flasks,’ and +the note on that passage. +<a class = "crossref" href = "#bantam_crossref6"> +Cross-Reference: <i>The Younger Brother</i>.</a></p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm7" id = "bantam_comm7" href = +"#bantam_commtag7">p. 29</a> +<i>The London-Cuckolds.</i> Ravenscroft’s rollicking comedy, which had +been produced with great success at the Duke’s House in 1682 (4to, +1682), long kept the boards with undiminished favour, being very +frequently given each season. Genest has the following true and +pertinent remark: ‘If it be the province of Comedy not to retail +morality to a yawning pit but to make the audience laugh and to keep +them in good humour this play must be allowed to be one of the best +Comedies in the English language.’ 29 October (the old Lord Mayor’s +Day), 1751, Garrick substituted <i>Eastward Hoe</i> at Drury Lane for +the annual performance of <i>The London Cuckolds</i>, a change not +approved by the audience, who promptly damned their new fare. +Ravenscroft’s comedy was given that evening at Covent Garden, and on 9 +November, the following year. It was also performed there in 1753. +9 November, 1754, George II ordered <i>The Provoked Husband</i>. It +has often been stated (e.g. by Professor A. W. +Ward—‘Ravenscroft’—<i>Dictionary of National Biography</i>) +that this royal command gave <i>The London Cuckolds</i> its final +<i>congé</i>, but such was neither the intent nor the case. The play is +billed at Covent Garden, 10 November, 1755; in 1757; and 9 November, +1758. Shuter excelled as Dashwell. A two act version was played at +Covent Garden, 10 April, 1782, and repeated on the 12th. This was for +the benefit of Quick, who acted Doodle.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm8" id = "bantam_comm8" href = +"#bantam_commtag8">p. 30</a> +<i>Your Honour . . . must be set down at Long’s.</i> Long’s was a famous +Ordinary in the Haymarket. It was here that in 1678 Lord Pembroke killed +Mr. Coney with his fist. He was tried by his Peers and acquitted. There +was at the same period a second tavern in Covent Garden kept by Ben +Long, Long’s brother. In Dryden’s <i>Mr. Limberham</i> (1678), Brainsick +cries: ‘I have won a wager to be spent luxuriously at Long’s.’ In +Etheredge’s <i>The Man of Mode</i> (1676), the following conversation +occurs:—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p><i>Bellair.</i> Where do you dine?</p> +<p><i>Dorimant.</i> At Long’s or Locket’s.</p> +<p><i>Medley.</i> At Long’s let it be.</p> +</div> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm9" id = "bantam_comm9" href = +"#bantam_commtag9">p. 30</a> +<i>the King’s Box</i>. The seats in the boxes of the Restoration Theatre +were let out severally to separate persons, and although the King had, +of course, his own private box when he saw a play, yet when he was not +present even the royal box was apportioned to individuals as the rest. +There are many allusions to this which prove, moreover, that the front +row of the King’s box was the most conspicuous and highly coveted +position in the house. In Etheredge’s <i>The Man of Mode</i> (1676), +Dorimant, hearing of a young gentlewoman lately come to town and being +taken with his own handsome face, wagers that she must be ‘some awkward, +ill-fashioned, country toad, who, not having above four dozen of black +hairs on her head, has adorned her baldness with a large white fruz, +that she may look sparkishly in the forefront of the +<span class = "pagenum">518</span> +King’s box at an old play.’ In Tom Brown’s <i>Letters from the Dead to +the Living</i><a class = "tag" name = "tag_bantam_1" id = "tag_bantam_1" +href = "#note_bantam_1">1</a> we have one from Julian, ‘late Secretary +to the Muses,’ to Will. Pierre of Lincoln’s Inn Fields Playhouse, +wherein, recalling how in his lampoons whilst he lived characters about +town were shown in no very enviable light, he particularizes that ‘the +antiquated Coquet was told of her age and ugliness, tho’ her vanity +plac’d her in the first row in the King’s box at the playhouse.’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm10" id = "bantam_comm10" href = +"#bantam_commtag10">p. 31</a> +<i>Jermain-Street.</i> Jermyn Street runs parallel with Piccadilly from +the Haymarket to St. James. It was built <i>circa</i> 1667, and derives +its name from Henry Jermyn, Earl of St. Albans. Shadwell spells it +Germin Street, and it was in a house here that old Snarl was wont to +receive amorous castigation at the hands of Mrs. Figgup.—<i>The +Virtuoso</i> (1676), iii, <span class = "smallroman">II</span>. It +was a fashionable quarter. From 1675 to 1681 the Duke of Marlborough, +then Colonel Churchill, lived here. La Belle Stuart, Duchess of Richmond, +had a house near Eagle Passage, 1681-3, and was succeeded therein by the +Countess of Northumberland. Next door dwelt Henry Saville, Rochester’s +friend, 1681-3. Three doors from the Duchess again was living in 1683 +Simon Verelest, the painter. In 1684 Sir William Soames followed him. In +after years also there have been a large number of famous residents +connected with this favourite street.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "bantam_comm11" id = "bantam_comm11" href = +"#bantam_commtag11">p. 34</a> +<i>after having . . . thrown their Majesties own Shoes and +Stockings</i>. For this old bridal custom see <i>ante</i>, Vol. III +(p. 223), <i>The Lucky Chance</i>, ii, <span class = +"smallroman">II</span>: ‘we’ll toss the Stocking’; and the note on that +passage. +<a class = "crossref" href = "#bantam_crossref11"> +Cross-Reference: <i>The Lucky Chance</i>.</a></p> + +<p class = "footnote"> +<a class = "tag" name = "note_bantam_1" id = "note_bantam_1" href = +"#tag_bantam_1">1</a> +This actual letter was written by Boyer, together with the reply which +is dated 5 November, 1701. Julian was a well-known journalistic +scribbler and ribald ballader of the time. William Peer [Pierre], +a young actor of little account, is only cast for such walk-on +rôles as Jasper, a valet, in Shadwell’s <i>The Scowerers</i> +(1691); the Parson in D’Urfey’s <i>Love for Money</i> (1696).</p> + +</div> + +<div class = "crossref"> +<h5><a name = "bantam_crossref" id = "bantam_crossref"> +Cross-References</a></h5> + +<p><a name = "bantam_crossref6" id = "bantam_crossref6" href = +"#bantam_comm6">Note to p. 27</a>: +<i>vide</i> <i>The Younger Brother</i>, i, <span class = +"smallroman">II</span> (Vol. IV), Motteux’ Song: ‘Thence to the +Rose where he takes his three Flasks,’ and the note on that passage.</p> + +<p><i>Younger Brother</i> text:</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p>Then jogs to the <i>Play-house</i>, and chats with the Masks,</p> +<p>And thence to the <i>Rose</i>, where he takes his three Flasks.</p> +</div> + +<p><i>Younger Brother</i> note:</p> + +<p class = "inset"> +<i>the Rose</i>. This celebrated house stood in Russell Street, Covent +Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable references to it. +The greater portion of the ‘Rose’ was demolished in 1776, when a new +front was being built to the theatre.</p> + +<p><a name = "bantam_crossref11" id = "bantam_crossref11" href = +"#bantam_comm11">Note to p. 34</a>: +For this old bridal custom see <i>ante</i>, Vol. III (p. 223), +<i>The Lucky Chance</i>, ii, <span class = "smallroman">II</span>: +‘we’ll toss the Stocking’; and the note on that passage.</p> + +<p><i>Lucky Chance</i> text:</p> + +<p class = "inset"> +Come, Gentlemen, one Bottle, and then—we’ll toss the Stocking.</p> + +<p><i>Lucky Chance</i> note:</p> + +<p class = "inset"> +<i>we’ll toss the Stocking</i>. This merry old matrimonial custom in use +at the bedding of the happy pair is often alluded to. cf. Pepys, +8 February, 1663: ‘Another story was how Lady Castlemaine, +a few days since, had Mrs. Stewart to an entertainment, and at +night begun a frolique that they two must be married; and married they +were, with ring and all other ceremonies of church service, and +ribbands, and a sack posset in bed and flinging the stocking; but in the +close it is said my Lady Castlemaine, who was the bridegroom, rose, and +the King come and take her place.’</p> +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">35</span> +<a name = "happy_lady" id = "happy_lady"> </a> + + +<h3>THE<br> +UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY:<br> +A TRUE HISTORY.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">37</span> + +<h4><a name = "happy_main" id = "happy_main">THE<br> +<i>UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY</i>:</a><br> +A True History.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">I cannot</span> omit giving the World an +account, of the uncommon Villany of a Gentleman of a good Family in +<i>England</i> practis’d upon his Sister, which was attested to me by +one who liv’d in the Family, and from whom I had the whole Truth of the +Story. I shall conceal the unhappy Gentleman’s own, under the +borrow’d Names of Sir <i>William Wilding</i>, who succeeded his Father +Sir <i>Edward</i>, in an Estate of near 4000<i>l.</i> a Year, inheriting +all that belong’d to him, except his Virtues. ’Tis true, he was oblig’d +to pay his only Sister a Portion of 6000<i>l.</i> which he might very +easily have done out of his Patrimony in a little Time, the Estate being +not in the least incumbred. But the Death of his good Father gave a +loose to the Extravagancy of his Inclinations, which till then was +hardly observable. The first Discovery he made of his Humour, was in the +extraordinary rich Equipage he prepar’d for his Journey to +<i>London</i>, which was much greater than his fair and plentiful +Fortune cou’d maintain, nor were his Expences any way inferior to the +Figure he made here in Town; insomuch, that in less than a Twelve-Month, +he was forc’d to return to his Seat in the Country, to Mortgage a part +of his Estate of a Thousand Pounds a Year, to satisfy the Debts he had +already contracted in his profuse Treats, Gaming and Women, which in a +few Weeks he effected, to the great Affliction of his Sister +<i>Philadelphia</i>, a young Lady of excellent Beauty, Education, +and Virtue; who, fore-seeing the utter Ruin of the Estate, +<span class = "pagenum">38</span> +if not timely prevented, daily begg’d of him, with Prayers and Tears, +that might have mov’d a <i>Scythian</i> or wild <i>Arab</i>, or indeed +any thing but him, to pay her her Portion. To which, however, he +seemingly consented, and promis’d to take her to Town with him, and +there give her all the Satisfaction she cou’d expect: And having dipp’d +some paltry Acres of Land, deeper than ever Heaven dipp’d ’em in Rain, +he was as good as his Word, and brought her to Town with him, where he +told her he would place her with an ancient Lady, with whom he had +contracted a Friendship at his first coming to <i>London</i>; adding, +that she was a Lady of incomparable Morals, and of a matchless Life and +Conversation. <i>Philadelphia</i> took him in the best Sense, and was +very desirous to be planted in the same House with her, hoping she might +grow to as great a Perfection in such excellent Qualifications, as she +imagined ’em. About four Days therefore after they had been in Town, she +sollicits her Brother to wait on that Lady with her: He reply’d, that it +is absolutely Necessary and Convenient that I should first acquaint her +with my Design, and beg that she will be pleas’d to take you into her +Care, and this shall be my chief Business to Day: Accordingly, that very +Hour he went to the Lady <i>Beldams</i>, his reverend and honourable +Acquaintance, whom he prepar’d for the Reception of his Sister, who he +told her was a Cast-Mistress of his, and desir’d her Assistance to +prevent the Trouble and Charge, which she knew such Cattle would bring +upon young Gentlemen of plentiful Estates. To morrow Morning about +Eleven, I’ll leave her with your Ladyship, who, I doubt not, will +give her a wholesome Lesson or two before Night, and your Reward is +certain. My Son, (return’d she) I know the Greatness of your +Spirit, the Heat of your Temper has both warm’d and inflam’d me! +I joy to see you in Town again—Ah! That I could but recal one +twenty Years for your Sake!—Well—no +matter.—I won’t forget your Instructions, nor my Duty to +<span class = "pagenum">39</span> +Morrow: In the mean time, I’ll drink your Health in a Bottle of +<i>Sherry</i> or two, O! Cry your Mercy, good my Lady <i>Beldam</i>, +(said the young Debauchee) I had like to have forfeited my Title to +your Care, in not remembring to leave you an Obligation. There are three +Guinea’s, which, I hope, will plead for me till to +Morrow.—So—Your Ladyship’s Servant humbly kisses your Hand. +Your Honours most Obedient Servant, most gratefully Acknowledges your +Favours.—Your humble Servant, Good Sir <i>William</i>, added she, +seeing him leave her in haste.</p> + +<p>Never were three Persons better pleas’d for a Time than this +unnatural Man, his sweet innocent Sister, and the Lady <i>Beldam</i>; +upon his return to <i>Philadelphia</i>, who could not rest that Night, +for thinking on the Happiness she was going to enjoy in the Conversation +of so virtuous a Lady as her Brother’s Acquaintance, to whom she was in +Hopes that she might discover her dearest Thoughts, and complain of Sir +<i>William’s</i> Extravagance and Unkindness, without running the +Hazzard of being betray’d; and at the same Time, reasonably expect from +so pious a Lady all the Assistance within her Capacity. On the other +side, her Brother hugg’d himself in the Prospect he had of getting rid +of his own Sister, and the Payment of 6000<i>l.</i> for the Sum of forty +or fifty Guineas, by the Help and Discretion of this sage Matron; who, +for her part, by this Time, had reckon’d up, and promis’d to herself an +Advantage of at least three hundred Pounds, one way or other by this +bargain.</p> + +<p>About Ten the next Morning, Sir <i>William</i> took Coach with his +Sister, for the old Lady’s Enchanted Castle, taking only one Trunk of +hers with them for the present, promising her to send her other Things +to her the next Day. The young Lady was very joyfully and respectfully +received by her Brother’s venerable Acquaintance, who was mightily +charm’d with her Youth and Beauty. A Bottle of the Best was then +strait brought in, and not long +<span class = "pagenum">40</span> +after a very splendid Entertainment for Breakfast: The Furniture was all +very modish and rich, and the Attendance was suitable. Nor was the Lady +<i>Beldam’s</i> Conversation less obliging and modest, than Sir +<i>William’s</i> Discourse had given <i>Philadelphia</i> occasion to +expect. After they had eaten and drank what they thought Convenient, the +reverend old Lady led ’em out of the Parlour to shew ’em the House, +every Room of which they found answerably furnish’d to that whence they +came. At last she led ’em into a very pleasant Chamber, richly hung, and +curiously adorn’d with the Pictures of several beautiful young Ladies, +wherein there was a Bed which might have been worthy the Reception of a +Dutchess: This, Madam, (said she) is your Apartment, with the +Anti-chamber, and little Withdrawing-Room. Alas, Madam! (returned the +dear innocent unthinking Lady) you set too great a Value on your +Servant; but I rather think your Ladyship designs me this Honour for the +sake of Sir <i>William</i>, who has had the Happiness of your +Acquaintance for some Months: Something for Sir <i>William</i>, +(returned the venerable Lady <i>Beldam</i>) but much more for your +Ladyship’s own, as you will have Occasion to find hereafter. +I shall Study to deserve your Favours and Friendship, Madam, +reply’d <i>Philadelphia</i>: I hope you will, Madam, said the barbarous +Man. But my Business now calls me hence; to Morrow at Dinner I will +return to you, and Order the rest of your Things to be brought with me. +In the mean while (pursu’d the Traytor, kissing his Sister, as he +thought and hop’d the last time) be as chearful as you can, my Dear! and +expect all you can wish from me. A thousand Thanks, my dearest +Brother, return’d she, with Tears in her Eyes: And Madam, (said he to +his old mischievous Confederate, giving her a very rich Purse which held +50 Guineas) be pleas’d to accept this Trifle, as an humble +Acknowledgment of the great Favour you do this Lady, and the Care of +her, which you promise; and I’m sure she cannot want. +<span class = "pagenum">41</span> +—So, once more, (added he) my Dear! and, Madam! I am +your humble Servant <i>Jusqu’ a Revoir</i>, and went out bowing. +Heavens bless my dear Brother! (cry’d <i>Philadelphia</i>) your Honour’s +most Faithful and obedient Servant, said the venerable +<i>Beldam</i>.</p> + +<p>No sooner was the treacherous Brother gone, than the old Lady taking +<i>Philadelphia</i> by the Hand, led her into the Parlour; where she +began to her to this Effect: <i>If I mistake not, Madam, you were +pleas’d to call Sir <em>William</em> Brother once or twice of late in +Conversation: Pray be pleas’d to satisfy my Curiosity so far as to +inform me in the Truth of this Matter? Is it really so or not?</i> +<i>Philadelphia</i> reply’d, blushing, your Ladyship strangely surprizes +me with this Question: For, I thought it had been past your Doubt +that it is so. Did not he let you know so much himself? I humbly +beg your Pardon, Madam, (returned the true Offspring of old Mother +<i>Eve</i>) that I have so visibly disturb’d you by my Curiosity: But, +indeed, Madam, Sir <i>William</i> did not say your Ladyship was his +Sister, when he gave me the Charge of you, as of the nearest and dearest +Friend he had in the World. Now our Father and Mother are dead, (said +the sweet Innocent) who never had more Children than us two, who can be +a nearer or dearer Friend unto me, than my Brother Sir <i>William</i>, +or than I his Sister to him? None? Certainly, you’ll excuse me, Madam, +(answer’d t’other) a Wife or Mistress may. A Wife indeed, +(return’d the beautiful Innocent) has the Pre-eminence, and perhaps, +a Mistress too, if honourably lov’d and sought for in Marriage: +But, (she continu’d) I can assure your Ladyship that he has not a +Wife, nor did I ever hear he had a Mistress yet. Love in Youth (said old +Venerable) is very fearful of Discovery. I have known, Madam, +a great many fine young Gentlemen and Ladies, who have conceal’d +their violent Passions and greater Affection, under the Notion and +Appellation of Brother and Sister. And your Ladyship imagines, Sir +<i>William</i> +<span class = "pagenum">42</span> +and I do so? reply’d <i>Philadelphia</i>, by way of Question. ’Twere no +imprudence, if you did, Madam, return’d old Lady <i>Beldam</i>, with all +the Subtlety she had learn’d from the Serpent. Alas! Madam, (reply’d +she) there is nothing like Secrecy in Love: ’Tis the very Life and Soul +of it! I have been young myself, and have known it by Experience. +But, all this, Madam, (interrupted <i>Philadelphia</i>, something +nettl’d at her Discourse) all this can’t convince me, that I am not the +true and only Sister both by Father and Mother of Sir <i>William +Wilding</i>; however, he wou’d impose upon your Ladyship, for what Ends, +indeed, I know not, unless (unhappily, which Heaven forbid!) he +designs to gain your <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘Ladship’s’">Ladyship’s</ins> Assistance in defeating me of the Portion +left me by my Father: But, (she continued with Tears) I have too +great an Assurance of your Virtue, to Fear that you will consent to so +wicked a Practise. You may be confident, Madam, (said t’other) +I never will. And, supposing that he were capable of perpetrating +so base an Act of himself, yet if your Ladyship will be guided and +directed by me, I will shew you the Means of living Happy and +Great, without your Portion, or your Brother’s Help; so much I am +charm’d with your Beauty and Innocence.</p> + +<p>But, pray, Madam, (pursu’d she) what is your Portion? And what makes +you doubt your Brother’s Kindness? <i>Philadelphia</i> then told her, +how much her Brother was to pay her, and gave her an Account of his +Extravagancies, as far as she knew ’em; to which t’other was no +Stranger; and (doubtless) cou’d have put a Period to her Sorrows with +her Life, had she given her as perfect a Relation of his riotous and +vicious Practices, as she was capable of: But she had farther Business +with her Life, and, in short, bid her be of good Comfort, and lay all +her Care on her, and then she cou’d not miss of continual Happiness. The +sweet Lady took all her Promises for sterling, and kissing her Impious +Hand, humbly return’d her Thanks. Not +<span class = "pagenum">43</span> +long after they went to Dinner; and in the Afternoon, three or four +young Ladies came to visit the Right Reverend the Lady <i>Beldam</i>; +who told her new Guest, that these were all her Relations, and no less +than her own Sister’s Children. The Discourse among ’em was general and +very modest, which lasted for some Hours: For, our Sex seldom wants +matter of Tattle. But, whether their Tongues were then miraculously +wearied, or that they were tir’d with one continued Scene of Place, +I won’t pretend to determine: But they left the Parlour for the +Garden, where after about half an Hour’s Walk, there was a very fine +Desert of Sweetmeats and Fruits brought into one of the Arbours. +<i>Cherbetts</i>, <a class = "comm" name = "happy_commtag1" id = +"happy_commtag1" href = "#happy_comm1"><i>Ros Solis</i></a>, rich and +small Wines, with Tea, Chocolate, <i>&c.</i> compleated the old +Lady’s Treat; the Pleasure of which was much heighten’d by the Voices of +two of her Ladyship’s Sham-Nieces, who sung very charmingly. The Dear, +sweet Creature, thought she had happily got into the Company of Angels: +But (alas!) they were Angels that had fallen more than once. She heard +talk of Nunneries, and having never been out of her own Country till +within four or five Days, she had certainly concluded she had been in +one of those Religious-Houses now, had she but heard a Bell ring, and +seen ’em kneel to Prayers, and make use of their Beads, as she had been +told those happy people do. However it was, she was extremely pleas’d +with the Place and Company. So nearly do’s Hell counterfeit Heaven +sometimes. At last, said one of the white Devils, wou’d my dear +<i>Tommy</i> were here! O Sister! (cry’d another) you won’t be long +without your wish: For my Husband and he went out together, and both +promis’d to be here after the Play. Is my Brother Sir <i>Francis</i> +with him there? (ask’d the first) yes, (answer’d the third) Sir +<i>Thomas</i> and Sir <i>Francis</i> took Coach from St. <i>James’s</i>, +about two Hours since: We shall be excellent Company when they come, +(said a fourth); I hope they’ll bring the Fiddlers with ’em, added +the first: Don’t you love +<span class = "pagenum">44</span> +Musick, Madam? (ask’d the old Lady <i>Beldam</i>) Sometimes, Madam, +(reply’d <i>Philadelphia</i>) but now I am out o’tune myself. +A little harmless Mirth will chear your drooping Spirits, my dear, +(return’d t’other, taking her by the Hand) come! These are all my +Relations, as I told you, Madam; and so consequently are their Husbands. +Are these Ladies all marry’d, Madam? <i>Philadelphia</i> ask’d. All, +all, my dear Soul! (reply’d the insinuating Mother of Iniquity;) and +thou shalt have a Husband too, e’re long. Alas, Madam! (return’d the +fair Innocent) I have no Merit, nor Money: Besides, I never +yet could Love so well as to make Choice of one Man before another.</p> + +<p>How long have you liv’d then, Madam? (ask’d the Lady <i>Beldam</i>) +too long by almost sixteen Years, (reply’d <i>Philadelphia</i>) had +Heaven seen good. This Conversation lasted till Word was brought that +Sir <i>Francis</i> and Sir <i>Thomas</i>, with Two other Gentlemen were +just lighted at the Gate: Which so discompos’d the fair Innocent, that +trembling, she begg’d leave to retire to her Chamber. To which, after +some Perswasion to the contrary, the venerable <i>Beldam</i> waited on +her. For, these were none of the Sparks to whom <i>Philadelphia</i> was +design’d to be Sacrific’d. In her Retirement, the Beautiful dear +Creature had the Satisfaction of venting her Grief in Tears, and +addressing herself to Heaven, on which only she trusted, +notwith­standing all the fair Promises of her reverend Hostess; she +had not been retir’d above an Hour, e’re a She-attendant waited on her, +to know if she wanted any thing, and what she wou’d please to have for +her Supper; if she wou’d not give her Lady the Honour of her Company +below? To which she return’d, that she wou’d not Sup, and that she +wanted nothing but Rest, which she wou’d presently seek in Bed. This +Answer brought up the Officious old Lady herself; who, by all Means +wou’d needs see her undress’d, for other Reasons more than a bare +Compliment; which she perform’d with a great deal of Ceremony, and a +<span class = "pagenum">45</span> +Diligence that seem’d more than double. For she had then the Opportunity +of observing the Delicacy of her Skin, the fine turn of her Limbs, and +the richness of her Night-dress, part of the Furniture of her Trunk. As +soon as she had cover’d herself, she kiss’d and wish’d her a good +Repose. The dear Soul, as Innocent and White as her Linen, return’d her +Thanks, and address’d herself to Sleep; out of which she was waken’d by +a loud Consort of Musick, in less than two Hours time, which continu’d +till long after Midnight. This occasion’d strange and doubtful Thoughts +in her, tho’ she was altogether so unskill’d in these Mysteries, that +she cou’d not guess the right Meaning. She apprehended, that (possibly) +her Brother had a Mistress, from the Lady <i>Beldam’s</i> Discourse, and +that this was their Place of Assignation: Suspecting too, that either +Sir <i>Francis</i>, or Sir <i>Thomas</i>, of whom she had heard not long +before, was Sir <i>William</i>, her Brother. The Musick and all the +Noise in the House ceas’d about four a Clock in the Morning; when she +again fell into a Sleep, that took away the Sense of her Sorrows, and +Doubts ’till Nine; when she was again visited from her Lady, by the same +She-attendant, to know how she had rested, and if she wou’d Please to +Command her any Service. <i>Philadelphia</i> reply’d, That she had +rested very well most Part of the Morning, and that she wanted nothing, +but to know how her Lady had Slept, and whether she were in Health, +unless it were the Sight of her Brother. The Servant return’d with this +Answer to her Lady, while <i>Philadelphia</i> made shift to rise, and +begin to Dress without an Assistant; but she had hardly put on anything +more than her Night-gown, e’re the Lady <i>Beldam</i> herself came in +her <i>Dishabille</i>, to assure her of her Brother’s Company with ’em +at Dinner, exactly at One a Clock; and finding <i>Philadelphia</i> doing +the Office of a Waiting-woman to herself, call’d up the same Servant, +and in a great Heat (in which however she took Care to make Use of +none of her familiar develish Dialect) ask’d the Reason +<span class = "pagenum">46</span> +that she durst leave the Lady when she was Rising. The Wench trembling, +reply’d, That indeed the Lady did not let her know that she had any +Thoughts of Rising. Well then (said her seeming offended Lady) stir not +from her now, I charge you, ’till she shall think fit to dismiss +you, and Command your Absence. Dear Madam, Good Morrow to you, (said she +to <i>Philadelphia</i>) I’ll make haste and Dress too. Good Morrow to +your Ladyship (return’d the design’d Victim) when she was +<i>Habille</i>, she desir’d the Servant to withdraw; after which she +betook herself to her Devotion; at the end of which the Lady +<i>Beldam</i> return’d, attended by a Servant, who brought some Bread +and Wine for her Breakfast; which might then be seasonable enough to +<i>Philadelphia</i>; who cou’d not forbear discovering the Apprehensions +she had of her Brother’s Unkindness, still entertaining her +<i>Reverence</i>, with the Fear she had of his Disappointment that Day +at Dinner; which t’other oppos’d with all the seeming Reasons her Art +cou’d suggest, ’till the Clock had struck Twelve; when a Servant came to +tell the Lady <i>Beldam</i>, that one Sir <i>William Wilding</i> wou’d +certainly wait on her precisely at One, and desir’d that he might Dine +in the young Lady’s Apartment, to avoid being seen by any Visitants that +might come; and besides, that he had invited a Gentleman, his particular +Friend, to Dinner with him there. This Message being deliver’d aloud by +the Servant, was no little Satisfaction to the poor desponding young +Lady, who discours’d very chearfully of indifferent Matters, ’till the +Clock gave ’em Notice that the Hour was come; within three Minutes after +which, Word was brought to the Lady <i>Beldam</i>, that a Gentleman +below enquir’d for Sir <i>William Wilding</i>, whom she immediately went +down to receive, and led up to <i>Philadelphia</i>. Madam, (cry’d the +great Mistress of her Art) this is the Gentleman whom Sir <i>William</i> +has invited to Dinner with us; and I am very Happy to see him, for he is +my worthy Friend, and of a long Acquaintance. +<span class = "pagenum">47</span> +Trust me, Madam, he is a Man of Honour, and has a very large Estate: +I doubt not (added she) that you will find his Merits in his +Conversation. Here <i>Gracelove</i>, for that was the Gentleman’s Name, +saluted <i>Philadelphia</i>, and acquitted himself like a Person of good +Sense and Education, in his first Address to her; which she return’d +with all the Modesty and ingenuous Simplicity that was still proper to +her. At last she ask’d him how long he thought it wou’d be e’re Sir +<i>William</i> came? To which he reply’d, that Sir <i>William</i> told +him, unless he were there exactly at half an Hour after One, they shou’d +not stay Dinner for him; that he had not parted with him much above a +Quarter of an Hour, when he left him engag’d with particular Company, +about some weighty Business: But however, that, if he shou’d be so +unhappy as to lose their Conversation at Dinner, he wou’d not fail to +wait on ’em by Four at farthest. The young Lady seem’d a little uneasie +at this; but the Gentleman appearing so very Modest, and speaking it +with such an assur’d Gravity, took away all Thoughts of Suspicion. To +say Truth, <i>Gracelove</i> was a very honest, modest, worthy and +handsome Person; and had the Command, at present, of a many Thousand +Pounds, he was by Profession a <i>Turkey</i> Merchant: He had Travell’d +much, for his Age, not having then reach’d Thirty, and had seen most of +the Courts in <i>Christendom</i>: He was a Man of a sweet Temper, of +just Principles, and of inviolable Friendship, where he promis’d; which +was no where, but where ’twas merited. The Minute came then at length, +but without any Sir <i>William</i>; so Dinner was serv’d up in the Room +next to <i>Philadelphia’s</i> Bed-chamber. What they had was Nice and +Seasonable; and they were all Three as Pleasant as cou’d be expected, +without Sir <i>William</i>; to whose Health the Glass went round once or +twice. Dinner over, and the Table clear’d, the old Lady <i>Beldam</i> +entreated Mr. <i>Gracelove</i> to entertain the young Lady with a +Discourse of his Travels, and of +<span class = "pagenum">48</span> +the most remarkable Passages and Encounters of ’em, which he perform’d +with a Modesty and Gravity peculiar to himself; and in some part of his +Discourse mov’d the innocent Passions of the beauteous and compassionate +<i>Philadelphia</i>; who was as attentive as she us’d to be in Church at +Divine Service. When the old Lady perceiv’d that he had made an end, or +at least, that he desir’d to proceed no farther, she took Occasion to +leave ’em together, in haste; pretending, that she had forgotten to give +Orders to one of her Servants, about a Business of Moment, and that she +wou’d return to ’em in a very little Time. The Gentleman, you may +believe, was very well pleas’d with her Retreat, since he had a +Discourse to make to <i>Philadelphia</i> of a quite contrary Nature to +the Preceding, which requir’d Privacy: But how grateful her Absence was +to <i>Philadelphia</i>, we may judge by the Sequel. Madam, (said +<i>Gracelove</i>) how do you like the Town? Have you yet seen any Man +here whom you cou’d Love? Alas, Sir! (she reply’d) I have not seen +the Town, only in a Coach, as I pass’d along, nor ever was in any House, +except this and another, where my Brother lodg’d: And to your other +Question I must Answer, that I Love all Men. That’s generous, indeed, +Madam! (cry’d he) there is then some hope that I am one of the +Number. No doubt, Sir, (she return’d) that I Love you as well as any, +except Sir <i>William</i>. Is he the happy Man then, Madam? (said +<i>Gracelove</i>.) If to be loved best by me, may make any Man happy, +doubtless it must be he, for he is my own Brother. I fancy, Madam, +(return’d he) that you may make me as dear a Relation to you, as +Sir <i>William</i>. How is that possible, Sir? she ask’d. Thus, Madam, +(replied he, drawing closer to her) by our nearer Approaches to one +another. O, Heaven defend me! (cried she aloud) what do you mean? Take +away your Hand; you uncivil Man! Help! Madam! my Lady! O, (said +<i>Gracelove</i>) she’s gone purposely out of hearing. Am I betray’d +then? She cried. Betray’d! as if your +<span class = "pagenum">49</span> +pretty innocent Ladyship did not know where you were lodged. Ah, Lady, +(said he) this Faint will never do. Come, Child, (pursued he) +here are an hundred Guineas for you; and I promise you Yearly as much, +and Two Hundred with every Child that I shall get on thy sweet Body: +Faith I love thee, thou pretty Creature. Come! let’s be better +acquainted! you know my Meaning. Hell does, no doubt of (she return’d!) +O Monster a Man! I hate the Sight of you. With that she flung +from him, and ran into the Bed-chamber, where she thought to have locked +herself in; but the Key was conveyed into his Pocket. Thither, +therefore, he pursued her, crying, Ah, Madam, this is the proper Field +for our Dispute. Perceiving her Error, and animated by Despair, she +rushed between him and the Door, into the outward Room again, he still +following, and dodging her from Chair to Chair, she still Shrieking. At +last (cried he) a Parley, Madam, with you. Let me ask you one +Question, and will you Answer me directly and truly to it? Indeed, +I will, (said she) if it be Civil. Don’t you know then, that you +are in a naughty House, and that old <i>Beldam</i> is a rank Procuress, +to whom I am to give Two hundred Guineas for your Maidenhead? +O Heaven (cried she, kneeling with Tears gushing out from her dear +Eyes) thou Asserter and Guardian of Innocence! protect me from the +impious Practices intended against me! Then looking steadfastly on him, +Sir, (pursued she) I can but Difficultly guess what you mean: But I +find, that unless you prove what at first you seemed to me, I would +say, an honest worthy Gentleman, I shall be in danger of eternal +Ruin. You, Sir, are the only Person that may yet Preserve me. Therefore +I beseech you, Sir, hear my Story, with the Injuries and Afflictions +that so dreadfully torment me; of which, I am sure, none of those +<i>Barbarians</i>, of which you had Occasion to speak but now, would +have been guilty! O hear, and help me! for Heaven’s Sake, hear and +help me! I will, +<span class = "pagenum">50</span> +poor Creature, (return’d he) methinks I now begin to see my Crime +and thy Innocence in thy Words and Looks. Here she recounted to him all +the Accidents of her Life, since her Father’s Decease, to that very Day, +e’re <i>Gracelove</i> came to Dinner. And now (cry’d she, sobbing and +weeping) how dare I trust this naughty Brother again? Can I be safe with +him, think you, Sir? O! no; thou dear sweet Creature! by no Means. +O infernal Monsters, Brother and Bawd! If you distrust that I am +yet his Sister, here, Sir, take this Key, (said she) and open that Trunk +within, where you will find Letters from him to me in his own Hand; and +from my own dear dead Father too, Sir <i>Edward</i>, that gracious, that +good Man! He shew’d us both the Paths of Virtue: which I have not yet +forsaken. Pray satisfy me, Sir, and see the Truth! For your Satisfaction +I will, Madam, (said he) but I am now fully convinc’d that you have +greater Beauties within, than those I admire without. Saying this, he +open’d the Trunk, where he read a Line or two from her Father, and as +many from her Brother, which having again laid down, return’d to her, +with this Advice: I see, Madam, (said he) that you have Money +there, and several Things of Value, which I desire you to secure about +you this Moment; for I mean to deliver you out of this cursed Place, if +you dare put any Confidence in a Stranger, after your own Brother has +acted the Part of so great a Villain; if you dare trust a Stranger too, +Madam, who had himself a Design upon you; Heaven forgive me for it! but +by all Things sacred, I find my Error: I pity you, and I fear +I shall love you. Do you fear that, Sir? (said she) Why I love you +dearly now, because I see you are going to be good again; that is, you +are going to be yourself again. I hope, nay, I resolve I will, +tho’ it cost me my Life (said he.) Can you submit, Madam, to attend +on a young Lady of my Acquaintance here in Town, ’till I can provide +better for you? O I can be any Thing; a Chamber-Maid, +a Cook-Maid, a Scullion, +<span class = "pagenum">51</span> +what you shall think fit, tho’ never so mean, that is not naughty. Well, +Madam, (said he) compose your self then, and seem a little pleasant +when I bring up that old Factoress of Hell. I will endeavour it, +Sir, she return’d; and he went down to the Devil’s chief Agent, to whom +he said, that the poor Thing was at first very uneasy, but that now she +had consented to go along with him for an Hour or two to some other +Place, doubting your Secrecy; for she would not have her Brother know +it, as she calls him, for a thousand Worlds, and more Money. Well, my +Son, (reply’d old <i>Beldam</i>) you may take her with you: But you +remember your Bargain. O fie, Mother! (cry’d he) did you ever +know me false to you? No, no, you smock’d-fac’d Wag, (said she) but be +sure you bring her again to Night, for fear Sir <i>William</i> should +come. Never doubt it! Come up with me, (cry’d he) you’ll see a +strange Alteration, I believe. To <i>Philadelphia</i> they came +then, whom they found walking about the Room, and looking something more +pleasantly than she had ever done since she came thither. After she had +taken her <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘Money,and’">Money, and</ins> other Things of Value, so, Madam, (said +<i>Beldam</i>) how does your Ladiship now? I find, the Sight of a +young handsome Gentleman has work’d Wonders with you in a little Time: +I understand you are going to take a Walk with my worthy Friend +here, and ’tis well done: I dare trust you with him, but with no +other Man living, except Sir <i>William</i>. Madam, (return’d the fair +afflicted Lady) I am strangely oblig’d to you for your Care of me, +and am sure I shall never be able to return your Obligations as I ought, +and as I could wish. You won’t stay late, Mr. <i>Gracelove</i>? (said +the Mother of Mischief.) No, no, (reply’d he) I will only shew +the Lady a Play, and return to Supper. What is play’d to Night? (ask’d +the old One) <a class = "comm" name = "happy_commtag2" id = +"happy_commtag2" href = "#happy_comm2"><i>The Cheats, <em>Mother</em>, +the Cheats.</i></a> (answer’d <i>Gracelove</i>.) Ha, (said +<i>Beldam</i>, laughing) a very pretty Comedy, indeed! Ay, if well +play’d, return’d he. At these Words, they went down, where a Coach was +<span class = "pagenum">52</span> +call’d; which carry’d ’em to Counsellor <i>Fairlaw’s</i> House, in +<i>Great Lincolns-Inn-Fields</i>, whom they found accidentally at Home; +but his Lady and Daughter were just gone to Chapel, being then turn’d of +Five. <i>Gracelove</i> began his Apology to the good old Counsellor, who +was his Relation, for bringing a strange Lady thither, with a Design to +place her in his Family: But Sir, continu’d he, if you knew her +sorrowful Story, you would be as ambitious of entertaining her, as I am +earnest to entreat it of you. A very beautiful Lady ’tis, (return’d +the Counsellor) and very modest, I believe. That I can witness +(reply’d t’other.) Alas, Sir! (said the fair Unfortunate) I have +nothing but my Modesty and honest Education to recommend me to your +Regard. I am wrong’d and forsaken by my nearest Relation; then she +wept extravagantly: That Gentleman can give you an Account of my +Misfortunes, if he pleases, with greater Ease and less Trouble than my +self. Not with less Trouble, believe me, Madam; (return’d +<i>Gracelove</i>) and then began to inform <i>Fairlaw</i> in every Point +of her unhappy Circumstances. The good old Gentleman heard ’em with +Amazement and Horror; but told her, however, that she need not despond, +for he would take Care to right her against her Brother; and, that in +the mean Time she should be as welcome to him as any of his nearest +Kindred, except his Wife and Daughter. <i>Philadelphia</i> would have +knelt to thank him; but he told her, that humble Posture was due to none +but Heaven, and the King sometimes. In a little While after, the Lady +<i>Fairlaw</i> and her Daughter came Home, who were surpriz’d at the +Sight of a Stranger, but more at her Beauty, and most of all at her +Story, which the good old Gentleman himself could not forbear relating +to ’em: Which ended, the Mother and Daughter both kindly and tenderly +embrac’d her, promising her all the Assistance within their Power, and +bid her a thousand Welcomes. <i>Gracelove</i> stay’d there ’till after +Supper, and left her extremely satisfy’d with her new Station. ’Twas +<span class = "pagenum">53</span> +here she fix’d then; and her Deportment was so obliging, that they would +not part with her for any Consideration. About three Days after her +coming from that lewd Woman’s House, <i>Gracelove</i> took a Constable +and some other Assistants, and went to <i>Beldam’s</i> to demand the +Trunk, and what was in it, which at first her Reverence deny’d to +return, ’till Mr. Constable produc’d the Emblem of his Authority, upon +which it was deliver’d, without so much as re-minding <i>Gracelove</i> +of his Bargain; who then pretended he would search the House for Sir +<i>William Wilding</i>; but her graceless Reverence swore most devoutly +that he had never been there, and that she had neither seen nor heard +from him since the Day he left <i>Philadelphia</i> with her. With these +Things, and this Account he return’d to Counsellor <i>Fairlaw’s</i>, who +desir’d <i>Gracelove</i>, if possible, to find out Sir <i>William</i>, +and employ’d several others on the same Account. In less than a Month’s +Time <i>Gracelove</i> had the good Fortune to find him at his Lodgings +in <i>Soho-Square</i>, where he discours’d him about his Sister’s +Portion, and desir’d Sir <i>William</i> to take some speedy Care for the +Payment of it; otherwise she had Friends that would oblige him to it, +tho’ never so contrary to his Intentions. <i>Wilding</i> ask’d where she +was? t’other enquir’d where he left her? Sir <i>William</i> reply’d, +that he had plac’d her with an old grave Gentlewoman of his +Acquaintance, and that he thought she was there still. No, Sir, +(return’d <i>Gracelove</i>) I have deliver’d her out of the Jaws of +Perdition and Hell. Come, Sir <i>William</i>, (answer’d he) ’twas +impiously done, to leave your beautiful, young, and virtuous Sister, to +the Management of that pernicious Woman. I found her at old +<i>Beldam’s</i>, who would have prostituted her to me for two hundred +Guineas; but her heavenly Virtues might have secur’d and guarded her +from more violent Attempts than mine. Blush, if you can, Sir! and repent +of this! It will become you. If not, Sir, you will hear farther from +your Servant, added he, and left him staring +<span class = "pagenum">54</span> +after him. This Discourse was a great Mortification to the Knight, whose +Conscience, harden’d as it was, felt yet some Pain by it. He found he +was not like to continue safe or at Ease there, where he immediately +retreated into a Place of Sanctuary, call’d the <i>Savoy</i>, whither +his whole Equipage was remov’d as soon as possible, he having left Order +with his Servants, to report that he went out of Town that very +Afternoon for his own Country. <i>Gracelove</i> in the mean Time +return’d to the Counsellor’s, with a great deal of Joy, for having +discover’d Sir <i>William</i> at his Lodgings, which was likewise no +little Satisfaction to <i>Fairlaw</i>, his Lady and Daughter; +<i>Philadelphia</i> only was disturb’d when she heard the good old +Gentleman threaten to lay her Brother fast enough: But, alas! he was too +cunning for ’em; for in a whole Twelvemonth after, all which Time they +made Enquiry, and narrowly search’d for him, they could not see him, nor +any one that could give an Account of him, for he had chang’d his true +Name and Title, for that of ’Squire <i>Sportman</i>. The farther Pursuit +of him then seem’d fruitless to ’em, and they were forc’d to be +contented with their Wishes to find him.</p> + +<p><i>Gracelove</i> by this Time had entertain’d the sincerest +Affections and noblest Passion that Man can be capable of, for +<i>Philadelphia</i>; of which he had made her sensible, who had at that +Time comply’d with his honourable Demands, had she not entreated him to +expect a kind Turn of Providence, which might, (happily) e’re long, put +her in Possession of her Right; without which, she told him, she could +not consent to marry him, who had so plentiful a Fortune, and she +nothing but her Person and Innocence. How, Madam! (cry’d he) have +you no Love in Store for me! Yes, Sir, (return’d she) as much as you can +wish I have in Store for you, and so I beg it may be kept ’till a better +Opportunity. Well, Madam, (said he) I must leave you for some +Months, perhaps for a whole Year; I have receiv’d Letters of Advice +that urge the Necessity of my +<span class = "pagenum">55</span> +going to <i>Turkey</i>; I have not a Week’s Time to endeavour so dreaded +a Separation as I must suffer; therefore, thou beautiful, thou dear, +thou virtuous Creature, let me begin now! Here, thou tenderest Part of +my Soul! (continu’d he, giving her a rich Diamond Ring) wear this ’till +my Return! I hope the Sight of it may sometimes re-call the dying +Memory of <i>Gracelove</i> to your better-busy’d Thoughts. Ah, +<i>Gracelove</i>! (said she) nothing can so well, nothing I am sure can +better employ my Thoughts, than thy dear self: Heaven only excepted. +They enlarg’d a great deal more on this Subject at that Time; but the +Night before his Departure was entirely spent in Sighs, Vows, and Tears, +on both Sides. In the Morning, after he had again entreated his +Cousin’s, and the Lady’s, and her Daughter’s Care and Kindness to +<i>Philadelphia</i>, the remaining and best Part of his Soul, with one +hearty Kiss, accompany’d with Tears, he took a long Farewel of his dear +Mistress, who pursu’d him with her Eyes, ’till they could give her no +farther Intelligence of him; and they help’d her Kindness to him, and +eas’d her Grief for his Absence in weeping for above a Week together, +when in private. He never omitted writing to her and his Cousin by every +Opportunity, for near nine Months, as he touch’d at any Port; but +afterwards they could not hear from him for above half a Year; when, by +Accident, the Counsellor met a Gentleman of <i>Gracelove’s</i> +Acquaintance at a Coffee-House, who gave him an Account, that the Ship +and he were both cast away, near five Months since; that most if not all +of the Ship’s Company perish’d; of which, ’twas fear’d, <i>Gracelove</i> +was one, having never since been heard of. That his Loss in that Ship +amounted to above twelve thousand Pounds: With this dreadful and amazing +News the good old <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘Gentlemen’">Gentleman</ins> returns Home, afflicts his poor sorrowful +Lady and Daughter, and almost kills unhappy <i>Philadelphia</i>; who the +next Day, by mere Chance, and from a Stranger, who came on Business to +the Counsellor, heard, that one Sir <i>William Wilding</i>, an +<span class = "pagenum">56</span> +extravagant, mad, young Spark of such a County, who lately went by the +borrow’d Name and Title of ’Squire <i>Sportman</i>, had mortgag’d all +his Estate, which was near four thousand a Year, and carry’d the Money +over with him into <i>France</i> on Saturday last. This, added to the +former News, put so great a Check on her Spirits, that she immediately +dropp’d down in a Swoon; whence she only recover’d, to fall into what +was of a much more dangerous Consequence, a violent Feaver, which +held her for near six Weeks, e’re she could get Strength enough to go +down Stairs: In all which Time, Madam <i>Fairlaw</i> and <i>Eugenia</i>, +her Daughter, attended her as carefully and constantly, as if they had +been her own Mother and Sister: The good old Counsellor still commending +and encouraging their Care. The Roses and Lillies at last took their +Places again; but the Clouds of her Sorrow were still but too visible. +Two Years more past, without one Word of Advice from <i>Gracelove</i> or +any Account of him from any one else; insomuch, that they all concluded +he was certainly dead: And, ’twas true, indeed, that his Ship and he +were cast away, much about that Time that the Gentleman gave +<i>Fairlaw</i> a Relation: That ’twas certain he had lost above +12000<i>l.</i> and had like to have lost his Life; but being very expert +in Swimming, he got to Shoar upon the Coast of <i>Barbary</i>, the Wreck +happening not to be above three Leagues thence; he was in almost as bad +a Condition as if he had been drown’d, for here he was made a Prisoner +to one of the Natives; in which miserable Circumstance he lanquish’d for +above six Years, for Want of a Ransom; which he had often endeavour’d to +raise by Letters, that he sent hither to his Friends +(in <i>England</i>;) amongst which Counsellor <i>Fairlaw</i> was +one of his most particular and assur’d. But however Providence or +Accident, if you please, order’d it, not a Line came to the Hands of any +of his Friends; so that had not Heaven had yet a future Blessing in +Store for him, he had certainly have better perish’d in the Sea, than to +have +<span class = "pagenum">57</span> +fall’n into the Power of a People less merciful than Seas, Winds, or +hungry wild Beasts in Pursuit of their Prey. But this could not be +learn’d (it seems) from any Man but himself, upon his Return, after +his Redemption.</p> + +<p>Two Years more pass’d on; towards the latter of which the old Lady +<i>Fairlaw</i> took her Bed, desperately sick, insomuch that she was +given over by all her Physicians; she continu’d in great Misery for near +two Months; in all which Time <i>Philadelphia</i> was constantly with +her all the Day, or all the Night; much about that Time she dy’d; and, +dying, told her Husband, that she had observ’d he had a particular +Esteem or Kindness for <i>Philadelphia</i>; which was now a great +Satisfaction to her; since she was <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘asssur’d’">assur’d</ins>, that if he marry’d her, she would +prove an excellent Nurse to him, and prolong his Life by some Years. As +for <i>Eugenia</i>, (added she) you need not be concern’d; I’m sure she +will consent to any Thing that you shall propose, having already so +plentifully provided for her. The good old Gentleman answer’d, that he +would fulfil her Will as far as lay in his Power: And not long after, +she departed this Life. Her Burial was very handsome and honourable. +Half a Year was now expir’d since her Interment, when the old Counsellor +began to plead his own Cause to young <i>Philadelphia</i>, reminding her +that now the Death of <i>Gracelove</i> was out of Question; and that +therefore she was as much at her Liberty to make her own Choice of an +Husband as he was of a Wife; not forgetting, at the same Time, to let +her know, that his Widow, (whoever had the good Fortune to be so) +would be worth above thirty thousand Pounds in ready Money, besides a +thousand a Year. But, above all, he urg’d his dying Lady’s last Advice +to him, that he would marry her; and hop’d she would see the Will of the +Dead satisfy’d. The young Lady being broken in Sorrows, and having +mortify’d all her Appetites to the Enjoyments of this World, and not +knowing where to meet with so fair an Overture, tho’ +<span class = "pagenum">58</span> +at first, in Modesty, she seem’d to refuse it as too great an Honour, +yet yielded to less than a Quarter of an Hour’s Courtship. And the next +Sunday marry’d they were, with the Consent, and to the perfect +Satisfaction of, his Daughter, Madam <i>Eugenia</i>; who lov’d +<i>Philadelphia</i> sincerely. They kept their Wedding very nobly for a +Month, at their own House in <i>Great Lincolns-Inn-Fields</i>; but the +Memory of the old Lady was still so fresh with the young Lady +<i>Fairlaw</i>, that she prevail’d with him to remove to another, more +convenient as she fancy’d, in <i>Covent-Garden</i>. They had dwelt there +not much more than four Months, e’re the good old Gentleman fell sick +and dy’d. Whether it were the Change of an old House for a new, or an +old Wife for a young, is yet uncertain, tho’ his Physicians said, and +are still of Opinion, that, doubtless, it was the last. ’Tis past all +Doubt, that she did really mourn for and lament his Death; for she lov’d +him perfectly, and pay’d him all the dutiful respect of a virtuous Wife, +while she liv’d within that State with him; which he rewarded as I have +said before. His Funeral was very sumptuous and honourable indeed! and +as soon as it was over, <i>Eugenia</i> desir’d her young beautiful +Mother-in-Law to retreat a little with her into the Country, to a +pleasant House she had, not twenty Miles distant from Town; urging, That +she could by no Means enjoy her self under that Roof, where her dear +Father dy’d. The obliging Step-mother, who might more properly have been +call’d her Sister, being exactly of the same Age with her, readily +comply’d, and she pass’d away all that Summer with <i>Eugenia</i>, at +their Country-Seat, and most Part of the Winter too; for <i>Eugenia</i> +could by no Means be prevail’d on to lie one Night in her Mother’s +House; ’twas with some Reluctancy that she consented to dine there +sometimes. At length the whole Year of <i>Philadelphia’s</i> Widowhood +was expir’d; during which, you can’t but imagine that she was solicited +and address’d to by as many Lovers, or pretended Lovers, +<span class = "pagenum">59</span> +as our dear King <i>Charles</i>, whom God grant long to reign, was +lately by the Presbyterians, Independants, Anabaptists, and all those +canting whiggish Brethren! But she had never lik’d any Man so well as to +make him her Husband, by Inclination, unless it was <i>Gracelove</i>, +devour’d by the greedy Inhabitants of the Sea.</p> + +<p>Whilst her Fortune began to mend thus, her Brother’s grew worse; but +that was indeed the Effect of his Extravagancy: In less than two Years +Time, he had spent eight thousand Pounds in <i>France</i>, whence he +return’d to <i>England</i>, and pursuing his old profuse Manner of +Living, contracted above 100<i>l.</i> Debts here, in less than four +Months Time; which not being able to satisfy, he was arrested, and +thrown into a <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged">Goal</ins>, whence he remov’d himself into the <i>King’s +Bench</i>, on that very Day that old <i>Fairlaw</i> dy’d. There, at +first, for about a Month, he was entertain’d like a Gentleman; but +finding no Money coming, nor having a Prospect of any, the Marshal and +his Instruments turn’d him to the Common Side, where he learnt the Art +of Peg-making, a Mystery to which he had been a Stranger all his +Life long ’till then. ’Twas then he wish’d he might see his Sister, +hoping that she was in a Condition to relieve him; which he was apt to +believe, from the Discourse he had with <i>Gracelove</i> some Years +past. Often he wish’d to see her, but in vain; however, the next +<i>Easter</i> after the old Counsellor’s Death, <i>Philadelphia</i>, +according to his Custom, sent her Steward to relieve all the poor +Prisoners about Town; among the rest he visited those in the common Side +of the <i>King’s Bench</i>, where he heard ’em call Sir <i>William +Wilding</i> to partake of his Lady’s Charity. The poor Prodigal was then +feeding on the Relief of the Basket, not being yet able to get his Bread +at his new Trade: To him the Steward gave a Crown, whereas the other had +but Half a Crown apiece. Then he enquir’d of some of the unhappy +Gentlemen, Sir <i>William’s</i> Fellow-Collegians, of what Country Sir +<i>William</i> was? How long +<span class = "pagenum">60</span> +he had been there? And how much his Debts were? All of which he receiv’d +a satisfactory Account. Upon his Return to his Lady, he repeated the +dismal News of her Brother’s Misfortunes to her; who immediately +dispatch’d him back again to the Prison, with Orders to give him twenty +Shillings more at present, and to get him remov’d to the Master’s Side, +into a convenient Chamber, for the Rent of which the Steward engag’d to +pay; and promis’d him, as she had commanded, twenty Shillings a Week, as +long as he stay’d there, on Condition that he would give the Names of +all his Creditors, and of all those to whom he had engag’d any Part of +his Estate; which the poor Gentleman did most readily and faithfully: +After which, the Steward enquir’d for a Taylor, who came and took +Measure of <i>Philadelphia’s</i> unkind Brother, and was order’d to +provide him Linnen, a Hat, Shoes, Stockings, and all such +Necessaries, not so much as omitting a Sword: With all which he +acquainted his Lady at his Return; who was very much griev’d at her +Brother’s unhappy Circumstances, and at the same Time extremely well +pleas’d to find her self in a Condition to relieve him. The Steward went +constantly once a Week to pay him his Money; and Sir <i>William</i> was +continually very curious to know to whom he was oblig’d for so many and +great Favours; But he was answer’d, That they came from a Lady who +desir’d to have her Name conceal’d. In less than a Year, +<i>Philadelphia</i> had paid 25000<i>l.</i> and taken off the Mortgages +on 2500<i>l.</i> <i>per Annum</i> of her Brother’s Estate; and coming to +Town from <i>Eugenia’s</i> Country-House one Day, to make the last +Payment of two thousand Pounds, looking out of her Coach on the Road, +near <i>Dartford</i>, she saw a Traveller on Foot, who seem’d to be +tir’d with his Journey, whose Face, she thought, she had formerly known: +This Thought invited her to look on him so long, that she, at last, +perswaded her self it was <i>Gracelove</i>, or his Ghost: For, to say +Truth, he was very pale and thin, his Complexion +<span class = "pagenum">61</span> +swarthy, and his Cloaths (perhaps) as rotten as if he had been bury’d in +’em. However, unpleasant as it was, she could not forbear gazing after +this miserable Spectacle; and the more she beheld it, the more she was +confirmed it was <i>Gracelove</i>, or something that had usurp’d his +Figure. In short, she could not rest ’till she call’d to one of her +Servants, who rode by the Coach, whom she strictly charg’d to go to that +poor Traveller, and mount him on his Horse, ’till they came to +<i>Dartford</i>; where she order’d him to take him to the same Inn where +she baited, and refresh him with any Thing that he would eat or drink; +and after that, to hire a Horse for him, to come to Town with them: That +then he should be brought Home to her own House, and be carefully look’d +after, ’till farther Orders from her. All which was most duly and +punctually perform’d.</p> + +<p>The next Morning early she sent for the Steward, whom she order’d to +take the Stranger to a Sale-shop, and fit him with a Suit of good +Cloaths, to buy him Shirts, and other Linnen, and all Necessaries, as he +had provided for her Brother; and gave him Charge to use him as her +particular Friend, during his Stay there, bidding him, withal, learn his +Name and Circumstances, if possible, and to supply him with Money for +his Pocket Expences: All which he most faithfully and discreetly +perform’d, and brought his Lady an Account of his Sufferings by Sea, and +Slavery among the <i>Turks</i>, as I have before related; adding, that +his Name was <i>Gracelove</i>. This was the greatest Happiness, +certainly, that ever yet the dear beautiful Creature was sensible of. On +t’other Side, <i>Gracelove</i> could not but admire and praise his good +Fortune, that had so miraculously and bountifully reliev’d him; and one +Day having some private Discourse with the Steward, he could not forbear +expressing the Sense he had of it; declaring, That he could not have +expected such kind Treatment from any Body breathing, but from his +Cousin, Counsellor <i>Fairlaw</i>, his Lady, or another young +<span class = "pagenum">62</span> +Lady, whom he plac’d and left with his Cousins. Counsellor +<i>Fairlaw</i>! (cry’d the Steward) why, Sir, my Lady is the old +Counsellor’s Widow; she is very beautiful and young too. What was her +Name, Sir, before she marry’d the Counsellor? (ask’d <i>Gracelove</i>) +That I know not, (reply’d t’other) for the old Steward dy’d presently +after the old Lady, which is not a Year and a Half since; in whose Place +I succeed; and I have never been so curious or inquisitive, as to pry +into former Passages of the Family. Do you know, Sir, (said +<i>Gracelove</i>) whereabouts in Town they liv’d before? Yes, Sir, +(return’d the Steward, who was taught how to answer) in <i>Great +Lincolns-Inn-Fields</i>, I think, Alas! (cry’d <i>Gracelove</i>) ’twas +the same Gentleman to whom I design’d to apply my self when I came to +<i>England</i>. You need not despair now, Sir, (said t’other) +I dare say my Lady will supply your Wants. O wonderful +Goodness of a Stranger! (cry’d <i>Gracelove</i>) uncommon and rare +amongst Relations and Friends! How have I, or how can I ever merit this? +Upon the End of their Conference, the Steward went to +<i>Philadelphia</i>, and repeated it almost <i>verbatim</i> to her; who +order’d <i>Gracelove</i> should be taken Measure of by the best Taylor +in <i>Covent-Garden</i>; that he should have three of the most modish +rich Suits made, that might become a private Gentleman of a Thousand +Pounds a Year, and Hats, Perukes, Linnen, Swords, and all Things +suitable to ’em, all to be got ready in less than a Month; in which +Time, she took all the Opportunity she could either find or make to see +him, and not to be seen by him: She oblig’d her Steward to invite him to +a Play, whither she follow’d ’em, and sate next to <i>Gracelove</i>, and +talk’d with him; but all the while masq’d. In this Month’s Time she was +daily pester’d with the Visits of her Addressors; several there were of +’em; but the chief were only a Lord of a very small Estate, tho’ of a +pretty great Age; a young blustering Knight, who had a Place of +500<i>l.</i> a Year at Court; and a County Gentleman, of a very +plentiful Estate, a Widower, +<span class = "pagenum">63</span> +and of a middle Age. These three only of her Lovers she invited to +Dinner, on the first Day of the next Month: In the mean while she sent a +rich Suit, and Equipage proportionable, to her Brother, with an +Invitation to dine with her on the same Day. Then she writ to +<i>Eugenia</i> to come and stay in Town, if not in the same House with +her, for two or three Days before; which her affectionate Daughter +obey’d; to whom <i>Philadelphia</i> related all her Brother’s past +Extravagancies and what she had done for him in redeeming most Part of +his Estate; begging of her, that if she could fancy his Person, she +would take him into her Mercy and marry him. Being assur’d, that such a +virtuous Wife as she would prove, must necessarily reclaim him, if yet +he were not perfectly convinc’d of his Follies; which, she doubted not, +his late long Sufferings had done. <i>Eugenia</i> return’d, That she +would wholly be directed and advis’d by her in all Things; and that +certainly she could not but like the Brother, since she lov’d the Sister +so perfectly and truly.</p> + +<p>The Day came, and just at Twelve, <i>Gracelove</i>, meeting the +Steward on the Stairs coming from his Lady, <i>Gracelove</i> then told +him, that he believ’d he might take the Opportunity of that Afternoon to +go over to <i>Putney</i>, and take a Game or two at Bowls. The Steward +return’d, Very well, Sir, I shall let my Lady know it, if she +enquires for you. <i>Philadelphia</i>, who overheard what they said, +call’d the Steward in Haste, and bid him call <i>Gracelove</i> back, and +tell him, she expected his Company at her Table to Day, and that she +desir’d he would appear like himself. The Steward soon overtook him at +the Door, just going out as <i>Eugenia</i> came in, who look’d back on +<i>Gracelove</i>: The poor Gentleman was strangely surpriz’d at the +Sight of her, as she was at his; but the Steward’s Message did more +amaze and confound him. He went directly to his Chamber, to dress +himself in one of those rich Suits lately made for him; but, the +Distraction he was in, made him mistake his Coat +<span class = "pagenum">64</span> +for his Wastcoat, and put the Coat on first; but, recalling his +straggling Thoughts, he made Shift to get ready time enough to make his +Appearance without a second Summons. <i>Philadelphia</i> was as pleasant +at Dinner, as ever she had been all her Life; she look’d very obligingly +on all the Sparks, and drank to every one of ’em particularly, beginning +to the Lord—and ending to the Stranger, who durst hardly lift up +his Eyes a second Time to her’s, to confirm him that he knew her. Her +Brother was so confounded, that he bow’d and continu’d his Head down +’till she had done drinking, not daring to encounter her Eyes, that +would then have reproach’d him with his Villany to her.</p> + +<p>After Dinner the Cloth was taken away; She began thus to her Lovers: +My Lord! Sir <i>Thomas</i>! and Mr. <i>Fat-acres</i>! I doubt not, that +it will be of some Satisfaction to you, to know whom I have made Choice +for my next Husband; which now I am resolv’d no longer to defer.</p> + +<p>The Person to whom I shall next drink, must be the Man who shall ever +command me and my Fortune, were it ten times greater than it is; which I +wish only for his Sake, since he deserves much more.—Here, (said +she to one that waited) put Wine into two Glasses: Then she took the +Diamond Ring from her Finger, and put it into one of ’em. My dear +<i>Gracelove</i>, (cry’d she) I drank to thee; and send thee back +thy own Ring, with <i>Philadelphia’s</i> Heart. He startl’d, blush’d, +and looked wildly; whilst all the Company stared on him. Nay, pledge me, +(persu’d she) and return me the Ring: for it shall make us both one the +next Morning. He bow’d, kiss’d, and return’d it, after he had taken off +his Wine. The defeated Lovers knew not how to resent <ins class = +"correction" title = "? in original">it?</ins> The Lord and Knight were +for going, but the Country Gentleman oppos’d it, and told ’em, ’twas the +greatest Argument of Folly, to be disturb’d at the Caprice of a Woman’s +Humour. They sate down again therefore, and she invited ’em to her +Wedding on the Morrow.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">65</span> +<p>And now, Brother, (said she) I have not quite forgotten you, tho’ you +have not been pleas’d to take Notice of me: I have a Dish in +Reserve for you, which will be more grateful to your Fancy than all you +have tasted to Day. Here! (cry’d she to the Steward) Mr. +<i>Rightman</i>, do you serve up that Dish your self. <i>Rightman</i> +then set a cover’d Dish on the Table. What! more Tricks yet? (cry’d my +Lord and Sir <i>Thomas</i>) Come, Sir <i>William</i>! (said his Sister) +uncover it! he did so; and cry’d out, O matchless Goodness of a +virtuous Sister! here are the Mortgages of the best Part of my Estate! +O! what a Villain! what a Monster have I been! no more, dear Brother; +(said she, with Tears in her Eyes) I have yet a greater Happiness +in Store for you: This Lady, this beautiful virtuous Lady, with twenty +thousand Pounds, will make you happy in her Love. Saying this, she +join’d their Hands; Sir <i>William</i> eagerly kiss’d <i>Eugenia’s</i>, +who blush’d, and said, Thus, Madam, I hope to shew how much I love +and honour you. My Cousin <i>Eugenia</i>! (cry’d <i>Gracelove</i><ins +class = "correction" title = "! in original">!)</ins> The same, my dear +lost dead Cousin <i>Gracelove</i>! (reply’d she) O! (said he in a +Transport) my present Joys are greater than all my past Miseries! my +Mistress and my Friend are found, and still are mine. Nay, (faith, said +my Lord) this is pleasant enough to me, tho’ I have been defeated +of the Enjoyment of the Lady. The whole Company in general went away +very well that Night, who return’d the next Morning, and saw the two +happy Pair firmly united.</p> + +<h4 class = "final">FINIS.</h4> + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "happy_notes" id = "happy_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Unfortunate Happy Lady.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "happy_comm1" id = "happy_comm1" href = "#happy_commtag1">p. +43</a> +<i>Ros Solis.</i> A potent and well-liked tipple.</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p>We abandon all ale</p> +<p>And beer that is stale</p> +<p>Rosa-solis and damnable hum,</p> +<p>But we will rack</p> +<p>In the praise of sack</p> +<p>’Gainst Omne quod exit in um.</p> +</div> + +<p class = "right">—<i>Witts Recreation</i> (1654).</p> + +<p><i>The Accomplished Female Instructor</i> gives the following recipe: +‘Rossa Solis; Take of clean spirits, not too strong, two quarts and a +quart of spring-water; let them seethe gently over a soft fire till +about a pint is evaporated; then put in four spoonfuls of +orange-flower-water, and as much of very good cinnamon-water; crush 3 +eggs in pieces, and throw them in shell and all; stir it well, and when +it boiles up a little take it off.’ This drink was so great a favourite +with Louis XIV that a particular sort was named Rossolis du Roi.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">519</span> +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "happy_comm2" id = "happy_comm2" href = "#happy_commtag2">p. +51</a> +<i>The Cheats, Mother, the Cheats.</i> John Wilson’s excellent comedy, +<i>The Cheats</i>, which was written and produced in 1662, attained +great popularity. It ran into four editions (‘imprimatur, +5 November, 1663’); 4to, 1664; 1671; 1684; 1693. Caustically +satirizing the Puritans, it became a stock piece, and was acted as late +as May, 1721, when Griffin, Harper, Diggs, and Mrs. Gifford sustained +the parts which had been created by Lacy, Mohun, Hart, and Mrs. +Corey.</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">67</span> +<a name = "fair_jilt" id = "fair_jilt"> </a> + + +<h3>THE FAIR JILT.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">69</span> + +<h4><a name = "jilt_intro" id = "jilt_intro"> +INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">Although</span> <i>The Fair Jilt</i> was +published in 1688, it is interesting to note that ten years earlier, +Michaelmas Term, 1678, there is advertised for R. Tonson <i>The +Amorous Convert; being a true Relation of what happened in Holland</i>, +which may very well be the first sketch of Mrs. Behn’s maturer novel. +The fact that she does not ‘pretend here to entertain you with a feign’d +story,’ but on the contrary, ‘every circumstance to a tittle is truth’, +and that she expressly asserts, ‘To a great part of the main I myself +was an eye-witness’, aroused considerable suspicion in Bernbaum as to +the veracity of her narration, a suspicion which, when he gravely +discovers history to know no such person as her ‘Prince <ins class = +"correction" title = "obvious error uncorrected: may be in quoted original">Tarpuin</ins> +of the race of the last Kings of Rome’, is +resolved into a certainty that she is romancing fully and freely +throughout. It is surely obvious that such a point does not so much +demonstrate Mrs. Behn’s untruthfulness as her consummate art. With all +the nice skill of a born novelist she has so mingled fact and fancy, +what did occur and what might have been, that any attempt to disentangle +the twain would be idle indeed. The passages where she is most insistent +upon the due sequence of events, most detailed in observation are not +impossibly purely fictional, the incidents related without stress or +emphatic assertions are probably enough the plain unvarnished happenings +as she witnessed them. That the history is mainly true admits of little +question; that Mrs. Behn has heightened and coloured the interest is +equally certain.</p> + +<p><i>The Fair Jilt</i> must be allowed to stand in the very first rank +amongst her novels. It has been aptly compared to a novella by Bandello, +and is indeed more than worthy of the pen of the good Dominican Bishop +of Agen. In all its incidents and motives the story is eternally true. +The fateful beauty, playing now the part of Potiphar’s wife, and now the +yet commoner rôle of an enchantress whose charms drive men to madness +and crime, men who adore her even from their prison cell and are glad to +go to a shameful death for her sake, appears in all history, in all +literature, nay, in the very newspaper scandals and police courts of +to-day. As a picture of untrammelled passion, culpable and corrupt, but +yet terribly fascinating in her very recklessness and abandon, Miranda +is indeed a powerful study. Always guilty, she is always excused, or if +punished but sparingly and little, whilst the friar languishes in a foul +dungeon, the page-boy is hanged, her husband stands upon the public +scaffold. And then in the end, ‘very penitent for her life past’, she is +received with open arms by Tarquin’s old father, who looks upon her as a +very angel, and retiring to the tranquility of a country-house she +passes her days in ‘as perfect a state of happiness as this troublesome +world can afford’.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">70</span> + +<h4><a class = "comm" name = "jilt_dedic" id = "jilt_dedic" href = +"#jilt_comm1">TO</a><br> +HENRY PAIN, ESQ;</h4> + +<p>Sir,</p> + +<p><span class = "firstword">Dedications</span> are like Love, and no +Man of Wit or Eminence escapes them; early or late, the Affliction of +the Poet’s Complement falls upon him; and Men are oblig’d to receive ’em +as they do their Wives; <i>For better, for worse</i>; at <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘lest’">least</ins> with a feign’d +Civility.</p> + +<p>It was not Want of Respect, but Fear, that has hitherto made us keep +clear of your Judgment, too piercing to be favourable to what is not +nicely valuable. We durst not awaken your Criticism; and by begging your +Protection in the Front of a Book, give you an Occasion to find nothing +to deserve it. Nor can this little History lay a better Claim to that +Honour, than those that have not pretended to it; which has but this +Merit to recommend it, That it is Truth: Truth, which you so much +admire. But ’tis a Truth that entertains you with so many Accidents +diverting and moving, that they will need both a Patron, and an Assertor +in this incredulous World. For however it may be imagin’d that Poetry +(my Talent) has so greatly the Ascendant over me, that all I write +must pass for Fiction, I now desire to have it understood that this +is Reality, and Matter of Fact, and acted in this our latter Age: And +that in the person of <i>Tarquin</i>, I bring a Prince to kiss your +Hands, who own’d himself, and was receiv’d, as the last of the Race of +the <i>Roman</i> Kings; whom I have often seen, and you have heard of; +and whose Story is so well known to your self, and many Hundreds more: +Part of which I had from the Mouth of this unhappy great Man, and was an +Eye-Witness to the rest.</p> + +<p>’Tis true, Sir, I present you with a Prince unfortunate, but still +the more noble Object for your Goodness and Pity; who never valu’d a +brave Man the less for being unhappy. And whither shou’d the Afflicted +flee for Refuge but to the Generous? Amongst all the Race, he cannot +find a better Man, or more certain Friend: Nor amongst all his +Ancestors, match your greater Soul, and Magnificence of Mind. He will +behold in one <i>English</i> Subject, a Spirit as illustrious, +a Heart as fearless, a Wit and Eloquence as excellent, as +<i>Rome</i> it self cou’d produce. Its Senate scarce boasted of a better +States-man, nor Augustus of a more faithful Subject; as your +Imprisonment and Sufferings, through all the Course of our late National +Distractions, have sufficiently manifested; But nothing cou’d +<span class = "pagenum">71</span> +press or deject your great Heart; you were the same Man still, unmov’d +in all Turns, easie and innocent; no Persecution being able to abate +your constant good Humour, or wonted Gallantry.</p> + +<p>If, Sir, you find here a Prince of less Fortitude and Vertue than +your self, charge his Miscarriages on Love: a Weakness of that +Nature you will easily excuse, (being so great a Friend to the Fair;) +though possibly, he gave a Proof of it too Fatal to his Honour. Had I +been to have form’d his Character, perhaps I had made him something more +worthy of the Honour of your Protection: But I was oblig’d to pursue the +Matter of Fact, and give a just Relation of that part of his Life which, +possibly, was the only reproachful part of it. If he be so happy, as to +entertain a Man of Wit and Business, I shall not fear his Welcome +to the rest of the World: And ’tis only with your Passport he can hope +to be so.</p> + +<p>The particular Obligations I have to your Bounty and Goodness, +O Noble Friend, and Patron of the <i>Muses</i>! I do not so much as +pretend to acknowledge in this little Present; those being above the +Poet’s Pay, which is a sort of Coin, not <ins class = "correction" title += "spelling unchanged">currant</ins> in this Age: though perhaps may be +esteem’d as Medals in the Cabinets of Men of Wit. If this be so happy to +be of that Number, I desire no more lasting a Fame, that it may +bear this Inscription, that I am,</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +SIR,<br> + Your most Obliged, and<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>Most Humble Servant,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span><i>A. BEHN</i>.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">72</span> + +<h4><a class = "comm" name = "jilt_main" id = "jilt_main" href = +"#jilt_comm2"> +THE <i>FAIR JILT</i>:</a><br> +or,<br> +The Amours of Prince <i>Tarquin</i> and <i>Miranda</i>.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">As</span> Love is the most noble and divine +Passion of the Soul, so it is that to which we may justly attribute all +the real Satisfactions of Life; and without it Man is unfinish’d and +unhappy.</p> + +<p>There are a thousand things to be said of the Advantages this +generous Passion brings to those, whose Hearts are capable of receiving +its soft Impressions; for ’tis not every one that can be sensible of its +tender Touches. How many Examples, from History and Observation, could I +give of its wondrous Power; nay, even to a Degree of Transmigration! How +many Idiots has it made wise! How many Fools eloquent! How many +home-bred Squires accomplish’d! How many Cowards brave! And there is no +sort of Species of Mankind on whom it cannot work some Change and +Miracle, if it be a noble well-grounded Passion, except on the Fop in +Fashion, the harden’d incorrigible Fop; so often wounded, but never +reclaim’d: For still, by a dire Mistake, conducted by vast Opiniatrety, +and a greater Portion of Self-love, than the rest of the Race of Man, he +believes that Affectation in his Mein and Dress, that Mathematical +Movement, that Formality in every Action, that a Face manag’d with Care, +and soften’d into Ridicule, the languishing Turn, the Toss, and the +Back-shake of the Periwig, is the direct Way to the Heart of the fine +Person he adores; and instead of curing Love in his Soul, serves only to +advance his Folly; and the more +<span class = "pagenum">73</span> +he is enamour’d, the more industriously he assumes (every Hour) the +Coxcomb. These are Love’s Play-things, a sort of Animals with whom +he sports; and whom he never wounds, but when he is in good Humour, and +always shoots laughing. ’Tis the Diversion of the little God, to see +what a Fluttering and Bustle one of these Sparks, new-wounded, makes; to +what fantastick Fooleries he has Recourse: The Glass is every Moment +call’d to counsel, the Valet consulted and plagu’d for new Invention of +Dress, the Footman and <a class = "comm" name = "jilt_commtag3" id = +"jilt_commtag3" href = "#jilt_comm3">Scrutore</a> perpetually employ’d; +<i>Billet-doux</i> and <i>Madrigals</i> take up all his Mornings, till +Play-time in dressing, till Night in gazing; still, like a Sun-flower, +turn’d towards the Beams of the fair Eyes of his <i>Cælia</i>, adjusting +himself in the most amorous Posture he can assume, his Hat under his +Arm, while the other Hand is put carelesly into his Bosom, as if laid +upon his panting Heart; his Head a little bent to one Side, supported +with a World of Cravat-string, which he takes mighty Care not to put +into Disorder; as one may guess by a never-failing and horrid Stiffness +in his Neck; and if he had any Occasion to look aside, his whole Body +turns at the same Time, for Fear the Motion of the Head alone should +incommode the Cravat or Periwig: And sometimes the Glove is well +manag’d, and the white Hand display’d. Thus, with a thousand other +little Motions and Formalities, all in the common Place or Road of +Foppery, he takes infinite Pains to shew himself to the Pit and Boxes, +a most accomplish’d Ass. This is he, of all human Kind, on whom +Love can do no Miracles, and who can no where, and upon no Occasion, +quit one Grain of his refin’d Foppery, unless in a Duel, or a Battle, if +ever his Stars should be so severe and ill-manner’d, to reduce him to +the Necessity of either: Fear then would ruffle that fine Form he had so +long preserv’d in nicest Order, with Grief considering, that an unlucky +Chance-wound in his Face, if such a dire Misfortune should befal him, +would spoil the Sale of it for ever.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">74</span> +<p>Perhaps it will be urg’d, that since no Metamorphosis can be made in +a Fop by Love, you must consider him one of those that only talks of +Love, and thinks himself that happy Thing, a Lover; and wanting +fine Sense enough for the real Passion, believes what he feels to be it. +There are in the Quiver of the God a great many different Darts; some +that wound for a Day, and others for a Year; they are all fine, painted, +glittering Darts, and shew as well as those made of the noblest Metal; +but the Wounds they make reach the Desire only, and are cur’d by +possessing, while the short-liv’d Passion betrays the Cheat. But ’tis +that refin’d and illustrious Passion of the Soul, whose Aim is Virtue, +and whose end is Honour, that has the Power of changing Nature, and is +capable of performing all those heroick Things, of which History is +full.</p> + +<p>How far distant Passions may be from one another, I shall be able to +make appear in these following Rules. I’ll prove to you the strong +Effects of Love in some unguarded and ungovern’d Hearts; where it rages +beyond the Inspirations of <i>a God all soft and gentle</i>, and reigns +more like <i>a Fury from Hell</i>.</p> + +<p>I do not pretend here to entertain you with a feign’d Story, or any +Thing piec’d together with romantick Accidents; but every Circumstance, +to a Tittle, is Truth. To a great Part of the Main I myself was an +Eye-witness; and what I did not see, I was confirm’d of by Actors +in the Intrigue, Holy Men, of the Order of St. <i>Francis</i>: But for +the Sake of some of her Relations, I shall give my <i>Fair Jilt</i> +a feign’d Name, that of <i>Miranda</i>; but my Hero must retain his own, +it being too illustrious to be conceal’d.</p> + +<p>You are to understand, that in all the Catholick Countries, where +Holy Orders are establish’d, there are abundance of differing Kinds of +Religious, both of Men and Women. Amongst the Women, there are those we +call <i>Nuns</i>, that make solemn Vows of perpetual Chastity; There are +others who make but a simple Vow, as for five or ten Years, or +<span class = "pagenum">75</span> +more or less; and that time expir’d, they may contract anew for longer +time, or marry, or dispose of themselves as they shall see good; and +these are ordinarily call’d <i>Galloping Nuns</i>: Of these there are +several Orders; as <a class = "comm" name = "jilt_commtag4" id = +"jilt_commtag4" href = "#jilt_comm4"><i>Canonesses</i>, <i>Begines</i>, +<i>Quests</i>, <i>Swart-Sisters</i>, and <i>Jesuitesses</i></a>, with +several others I have forgot. Of those of the <i>Begines</i> was our +<i>Fair Votress</i>.</p> + +<p>These Orders are taken up by the best Persons of the Town, young +Maids of Fortune, who live together, not inclos’d, but in Palaces that +will hold about fifteen hundred or two thousand of these <i>Filles +Devotes</i>; where they have a regulated Government, under a sort of +<i>Abbess</i>, or <i>Prioress</i>, or rather a <i>Governante</i>. They +are oblig’d to a Method of Devotion, and are under a sort of Obedience. +They wear a Habit much like our Widows of Quality in <i>England</i>, +only without a <i>Bando</i>; and their Veil is of a thicker Crape than +what we have here, thro’ which one cannot see the Face; for when they go +abroad, they cover themselves all over with it; but they put ’em up in +the Churches, and lay ’em by in the Houses. Every one of these have a +Confessor, who is to ’em a sort of Steward: For, you must know, they +that go into these Places, have the Management of their own Fortunes, +and what their Parents design ’em. Without the Advice of this Confessor, +they act nothing, nor admit of a Lover that he shall not approve; at +least, this Method ought to be taken, and is by almost all of ’em; tho’ +<i>Miranda</i> thought her Wit above it, as her Spirit was.</p> + +<p>But as these Women are, as I said, of the best Quality, and live with +the Reputation of being retir’d from the World a little more than +ordinary, and because there is a sort of Difficulty to approach ’em, +they are the People the most courted, and liable to the greatest +Temptations; for as difficult as it seems to be, they receive Visits +from all the Men of the best Quality, especially Strangers. All the Men +of Wit and Conversation meet at the Apartments of +<span class = "pagenum">76</span> +these fair <i>Filles Devotes</i>, where all Manner of Gallantries are +perform’d, while all the Study of these Maids is to accomplish +themselves for these noble Conversations. They receive Presents, Balls, +Serenades, and Billets; All the News, Wit, Verses, Songs, Novels, +Musick, Gaming, and all fine Diversion, is in their Apartments, they +themselves being of the best Quality and Fortune. So that to manage +these Gallantries, there is no sort of Female Arts they are not +practis’d in, no Intrigue they are ignorant of, and no Management of +which they are not capable.</p> + +<p>Of this happy Number was the fair <i>Miranda</i>, whose Parents being +dead, and a vast Estate divided between her self and a young Sister, +(who liv’d with an unmarry’d old Uncle, whose Estate afterwards was all +divided between ’em) she put her self into this uninclos’d religious +House; but her Beauty, which had all the Charms that ever Nature gave, +became the Envy of the whole <i>Sisterhood</i>. She was tall, and +admirably shaped; she had a bright Hair, and Hazle-Eyes, all full of +Love and Sweetness: No Art could make a Face so fair as hers by Nature, +which every Feature adorn’d with a Grace that Imagination cannot reach: +Every Look, every Motion charm’d, and her black Dress shew’d the Lustre +of her Face and Neck. She had an Air, though gay as so much Youth could +inspire, yet so modest, so nobly reserv’d, without Formality, or +Stiffness, that one who look’d on her would have imagin’d her Soul the +Twin-Angel of her Body; and both together made her appear something +divine. To this she had a great deal of Wit, read much, and retain’d all +that serv’d her Purpose. She sung delicately, and danc’d well, and +play’d on the Lute to a Miracle. She spoke several Languages naturally; +for being Co-heiress to so great a Fortune, she was bred with the nicest +Care, in all the finest Manners <ins class = "correction" title = +"‘f’ obscure at line-end">of</ins> Education; and was now arriv’d to her +Eighteenth Year.</p> + +<p>’Twere needless to tell you how great a Noise the Fame of this young +Beauty, with so considerable a Fortune, made +<span class = "pagenum">77</span> +in the World: I may say, the World, rather than confine her Fame to +the scanty Limits of a Town; it reach’d to many others: And there was +not a Man of any Quality that came to <i>Antwerp</i>, or pass’d thro’ +the City, but made it his Business to see the lovely <i>Miranda</i>, who +was universally ador’d: Her Youth and Beauty, her Shape, and Majesty of +Mein, and Air of Greatness, charm’d all her Beholders; and thousands of +People were dying by her Eyes, while she was vain enough to glory in her +Conquests, and make it her Business to wound. She lov’d nothing so much +as to behold sighing Slaves at her Feet, of the greatest Quality; and +treated them all with an Affability that gave them Hope. Continual +Musick, as soon as it was dark, and Songs of dying Lovers, were sung +under her Windows; and she might well have made herself a great Fortune +(if she had not been so already) by the rich Presents that were +hourly made her; and every body daily expected when she would make some +one happy, by suffering her self to be conquer’d by Love and Honour, by +the Assiduities and Vows of some one of her Adorers. But <i>Miranda</i> +accepted their Presents, heard their Vows with Pleasure, and willingly +admitted all their soft Addresses; but would not yield her Heart, or +give away that lovely Person to the Possession of one, who could please +it self with so many. She was naturally amorous, but extremely +inconstant: She lov’d one for his Wit, another for his Face, and a third +for his Mein; but above all, she admir’d Quality: Quality alone had the +Power to attach her entirely; yet not to one Man, but that Virtue was +still admir’d by her in all: Where-ever she found that, she lov’d, or at +least acted the Lover with such Art, that (deceiving well) she fail’d +not to compleat her Conquest; and yet she never durst trust her fickle +Humour with Marriage. She knew the Strength of her own Heart, and that +it could not suffer itself to be confin’d to one Man, and wisely avoided +those Inquietudes, and that Uneasiness of Life she was sure to find in +that married +<span class = "pagenum">78</span> +State, which would, against her Nature, oblige her to the Embraces of +one, whose Humour was, to love all the Young and the Gay. But Love, who +had hitherto only play’d with her Heart, and given it nought but +pleasing wanton Wounds, such as afforded only soft Joys, and not Pains, +resolv’d, either out of Revenge to those Numbers she had abandon’d, and +who had sigh’d so long in vain, or to try what Power he had upon so +fickle a Heart, to send an Arrow dipp’d in the most tormenting Flames +that rage in Hearts most sensible. He struck it home and deep, with all +the Malice of an angry God.</p> + +<p>There was a Church belonging to the <a class = "comm" name = +"jilt_commtag5" id = "jilt_commtag5" href = +"#jilt_comm5"><i>Cordeliers</i></a>, whither <i>Miranda</i> often +repair’d to her Devotion; and being there one Day, accompany’d with a +young Sister of the Order, after the Mass was ended, as ’tis the Custom, +some one of the Fathers goes about the Church with a Box for +Contribution, or Charity-Money: It happen’d that Day, that a young +Father, newly initiated, carried the Box about, which, in his Turn, he +brought to <i>Miranda</i>. She had no sooner cast her Eyes on this young +Friar, but her Face was overspread with Blushes of Surprize: She beheld +him stedfastly, and saw in his Face all the Charms of Youth, Wit, and +Beauty; he wanted no one Grace that could form him for Love, he appear’d +all that is adorable to the Fair Sex, nor could the mis-shapen Habit +hide from her the lovely Shape it endeavour’d to cover, nor those +delicate Hands that approach’d her too near with the Box. Besides the +Beauty of his Face and Shape, he had an Air altogether great, in spite +of his profess’d Poverty, it betray’d the Man of Quality; and that +Thought weigh’d greatly with <i>Miranda</i>. But Love, who did not +design she should now feel any sort of those easy Flames, with which she +had heretofore burnt, made her soon lay all those Considerations aside, +which us’d to invite her to love, and now lov’d she knew not why.</p> + +<p>She gaz’d upon him, while he bow’d before her, and +<span class = "pagenum">79</span> +waited for her Charity, till she perceiv’d the lovely Friar to blush, +and cast his Eyes to the Ground. This awaken’d her Shame, and she put +her Hand into her Pocket, and was a good while in searching for her +Purse, as if she thought of nothing less than what she was about; at +last she drew it out, and gave him a Pistole; but with so much +Deliberation and Leisure, as easily betray’d the Satisfaction she took +in looking on him; while the good Man, having receiv’d her Bounty, after +a very low Obeysance, proceeded to the rest; and <i>Miranda</i> casting +after him a Look all languishing, as long as he remain’d in the Church, +departed with a Sigh as soon as she saw him go out, and returned to her +Apartment without speaking one Word all the Way to the young <i>Fille +Devote</i>, who attended her; so absolutely was her Soul employ’d with +this young Holy Man. <i>Cornelia</i> (so was this Maid call’d who +was with her) perceiving she was so silent, who us’d to be all Wit and +good Humour, and observing her little Disorder at the Sight of the young +Father, tho’ she was far from imagining it to be Love, took an Occasion, +when she was come home, to speak of him. ‘Madam, <i>said she</i>, did +you not observe that fine young <i>Cordelier</i>, who brought the Box?’ +At a Question that nam’d that Object of her Thoughts, <i>Miranda</i> +blush’d; and she finding she did so, redoubled her Confusion, and she +had scarce Courage enough to say,—<i>Yes, I did observe +him</i>: And then, forcing herself to smile a little, continu’d, ‘And I +wonder’d to see so jolly a young Friar of an Order so severe and +mortify’d.—Madam, (<i>reply’d <em>Cornelia</em></i>) when you know +his <i>Story</i>, you will not wonder.’ <i>Miranda</i>, who was +impatient to know all that concern’d her new Conqueror, obliged her to +tell his Story; and <i>Cornelia</i> obey’d, and proceeded.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">80</span> +<h5><i>The Story of Prince <em>Henrick</em>.</i></h5> + +<p>‘You must know, Madam, that this young Holy Man is a Prince of +<i>Germany</i>, of the House of <span class = +"dash">——</span>, whose Fate it was, to fall most +passionately in Love with a fair young Lady, who lov’d him with an +Ardour equal to what he vow’d her. Sure of her Heart, and wanting only +the Approbation of her Parents, and his own, which her Quality did not +suffer him to despair of, he boasted of his Happiness to a young Prince, +his elder Brother, a Youth amorous and fierce, impatient of Joys, +and sensible of Beauty, taking Fire with all fair Eyes: He was his +Father’s Darling, and Delight of his fond Mother; and, by an Ascendant +over both their Hearts, rul’d their Wills.</p> + +<p>‘This young Prince no sooner saw, but lov’d the fair Mistress of his +Brother; and with an Authority of a Sovereign, rather than the Advice of +a Friend, warn’d his Brother <i>Henrick</i> (this now young Friar) to +approach no more this Lady, whom he had seen; and seeing, lov’d.</p> + +<p>‘In vain the poor surpriz’d Prince pleads his Right of Love, his +Exchange of Vows, and Assurance of a Heart that could never be but for +himself. In vain he urges his Nearness of Blood, his Friendship, his +Passion, or his Life, which so entirely depended on the Possession of +the charming Maid. All his Pleading serv’d but to blow his Brother’s +Flame; and the more he implores, the more the other burns; and while +<i>Henrick</i> follows him, on his Knees, with humble Submissions, the +other flies from him in Rages of transported Love; nor could his Tears, +that pursu’d his Brother’s Steps, move him to Pity: Hot-headed, +vain-conceited of his Beauty, and greater Quality as elder Brother, he +doubts not of Success, and resolv’d to sacrifice all to the Violence of +his new-born Passion.</p> + +<p>‘In short, he speaks of his Design to his Mother, who promis’d him +her Assistance; and accordingly proposing +<span class = "pagenum">81</span> +it first to the Prince her Husband, urging the Languishment of her Son, +she soon wrought so on him, that a Match being concluded between the +Parents of this young Beauty, and <i>Henrick’s</i> Brother, the Hour was +appointed before she knew of the Sacrifice she was to be made. And while +this was in Agitation, <i>Henrick</i> was sent on some great Affairs, up +into <i>Germany</i>, far out of the Way; not but his boding Heart, with +perpetual Sighs and Throbs, eternally foretold him his Fate.</p> + +<p>‘All the Letters he wrote were intercepted, as well as those she +wrote to him. She finds herself every Day perplex’d with the Addresses +of the Prince she hated; he was ever sighing at her Feet. In vain were +all her reproaches, and all her Coldness, he was on the surer Side; for +what he found Love would not do, Force of Parents would.</p> + +<p><ins class = "correction" title = "open quote missing">‘She</ins> +complains, in her Heart, of young <i>Henrick</i>, from whom she could +never receive one Letter; and at last could not forbear bursting into +Tears, in spite of all her Force, and feign’d Courage, when, on a Day, +the Prince told her, that <i>Henrick</i> was withdrawn to give him Time +to court her; to whom he said, he confess’d he had made some Vows, but +did repent of ’em, knowing himself too young to make ’em good: That it +was for that Reason he brought him first to see her; and for that +Reason, that after that, he never saw her more, nor so much as took +Leave of her; when, indeed, his Death lay upon the next Visit, his +Brother having sworn to murder him; and to that End, put a Guard upon +him, till he was sent into <i>Germany</i>.</p> + +<p>‘All this he utter’d with so many passionate Asseverations, Vows, and +seeming Pity for her being so inhumanly abandon’d, that she almost gave +Credit to all he had said, and had much ado to keep herself within the +Bounds of Moderation, and silent Grief. Her Heart was breaking, her Eyes +languish’d, and her Cheeks grew pale, and she had like to have fallen +dead into the treacherous Arms of him that had reduc’d her to this +Discovery; but she did +<span class = "pagenum">82</span> +what she could to assume her Courage, and to shew as little Resentment +as possible for a Heart, like hers, oppress’d with Love, and now +abandon’d by the dear Subject of its Joys and Pains.</p> + +<p>‘But, Madam, not to tire you with this Adventure, the Day arriv’d +wherein our still weeping Fair Unfortunate was to be sacrific’d to the +Capriciousness of Love; and she was carry’d to Court by her Parents, +without knowing to what End, where she was even compell’d to marry the +Prince.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Henrick</i>, who all this While knew no more of his Unhappiness, +than what his Fears suggested, returns, and passes even to the Presence +of his Father, before he knew any Thing of his Fortune; where he beheld +his Mistress and his Brother, with his Father, in such a Familiarity, as +he no longer doubted his Destiny. ’Tis hard to judge, whether the Lady, +or himself, was most surpriz’d; she was all pale and unmoveable in her +Chair, and <i>Henrick</i> fix’d like a Statue; at last Grief and Rage +took Place of Amazement, and he could not forbear crying out, <i>Ah, +Traytor! Is it thus you have treated a Friend and Brother? And you, +O perjur’d Charmer! Is it thus you have rewarded all my Vows?</i> +He could say no more; but reeling against the Door, had fallen in a +Swoon upon the Floor, had not his Page caught him in his Arms, who was +entring with him. The good old Prince, the Father, who knew not what all +this meant, was soon inform’d by the young weeping Princess; who, in +relating the Story of her Amour with <i>Henrick</i>, told her Tale in so +moving a Manner, as brought Tears to the Old Man’s Eyes, and Rage to +those of her Husband; he immediately grew jealous to the last Degree: He +finds himself in Possession (’tis true) of the Beauty he ador’d, but the +Beauty adoring another; a Prince young and charming as the Light, +soft, witty, and raging with an equal Passion. He finds this dreaded +Rival in the same House with him, with an Authority equal to his own; +and +<span class = "pagenum">83</span> +fancies, where two Hearts are so entirely agreed, and have so good an +Understanding, it would not be impossible to find Opportunities to +satisfy and ease that mutual Flame, that burnt so equally in both; he +therefore resolved to send him out of the World, and to establish his +own Repose by a Deed, wicked, cruel, and unnatural, to have him +assassinated the first Opportunity he could find. This Resolution set +him a little at Ease, and he strove to dissemble Kindness to +<i>Henrick</i>, with all the Art he was capable of, suffering him to +come often to the Apartment of the Princess, and to entertain her +oftentimes with Discourse, when he was not near enough to hear what he +spoke; but still watching their Eyes, he found those of <i>Henrick</i> +full of Tears, ready to flow, but restrain’d, looking all dying, and yet +reproaching, while those of the Princess were ever bent to the Earth, +and she as much as possible, shunning his Conversation. Yet this did not +satisfy the jealous Husband; ’twas not her Complaisance that could +appease him; he found her Heart was panting within, whenever +<i>Henrick</i> approach’d her, and every Visit more and more confirmed +his Death.</p> + +<p>‘The Father often found the Disorders of the Sons; the Softness and +Address of the one gave him as much Fear, as the angry Blushings, the +fierce Looks, and broken Replies of the other, whenever he beheld +<i>Henrick</i> approach his Wife; so that the Father, fearing some ill +Consequence of this, besought <i>Henrick</i> to withdraw to some other +Country, or travel into <i>Italy</i>, he being now of an Age that +required a View of the World. He told his Father, That he would obey his +Commands, tho’ he was certain, that Moment he was to be separated from +the Sight of the fair Princess, his Sister, would be the last of his +Life; and, in fine, made so pitiful a Story of his suffering Love, as +almost moved the old Prince to compassionate him so far, as to permit +him to stay; but he saw inevitable Danger in that, and therefore bid him +prepare for his Journey.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">84</span> +<p>‘That which pass’d between the Father and <i>Henrick</i>, being a +Secret, none talked of his departing from Court; so that the Design the +Brother had went on; and making a Hunting-Match one Day, where most +young People of Quality were, he order’d some whom he had hired to +follow his Brother, so as if he chanced to go out of the Way, to +dispatch him; and accordingly, Fortune gave ’em an Opportunity; for he +lagg’d behind the Company, and turn’d aside into a pleasant Thicket of +Hazles, where alighting, he walk’d on Foot in the most pleasant Part of +it, full of Thought, how to divide his Soul between Love and Obedience. +He was sensible that he ought not to stay; that he was but an Affliction +to the young Princess, whose Honour could never permit her to ease any +Part of his Flame; nor was he so vicious to entertain a Thought that +should stain her Virtue. He beheld her now as his Brother’s Wife, and +that secured his Flame from all loose Desires, if her native Modesty had +not been sufficient <ins class = "correction" title = +"‘f’ obscure at line-end">of</ins> itself to have done it, as well as that profound +Respect he paid her; and he consider’d, in obeying his Father, he left +her at Ease, and his Brother freed of a thousand Fears; he went to seek +a Cure, which if he could not find, at last he could but die; and so he +must, even at her Feet: However, that it was more noble to seek a Remedy +for his Disease, than expect a certain Death by staying. After a +thousand Reflections on his hard Fate, and bemoaning himself, and +blaming his cruel Stars, that had doom’d him to die so young, after an +Infinity of Sighs and Tears, Resolvings and Unresolvings, he, on the +sudden, was interrupted by the trampling of some Horses he heard, and +their rushing through the Boughs, and saw four Men make towards him: He +had not time to mount, being walk’d some Paces from his Horse. One of +the Men advanced, and cry’d, <i>Prince, you must die</i>—<i>I do +believe thee</i>, (reply’d <i>Henrick</i>) <i>but not by a Hand so base +as thine</i>: And at the same Time drawing his Sword, run him into the +Groin. +<span class = "pagenum">85</span> +When the Fellow found himself so wounded, he wheel’d off and cry’d, +<i>Thou art a Prophet, and hast rewarded my Treachery with Death.</i> +The rest came up, and one shot at the Prince, and shot him in the +Shoulder; the other two hastily laying hold (but too late) on the Hand +of the Murderer, cry’d, <i>Hold, Traytor; we relent, and he shall not +die.</i> He reply’d, <i>’Tis too late, he is shot; and see, he lies +dead. Let us provide for ourselves, and tell the Prince, we have done +the Work; for you are as guilty as I am.</i> At that they all fled, and +left the Prince lying under a Tree, weltering in his Blood.</p> + +<p>‘About the Evening, the Forester going his Walks, saw the Horse, +richly caparison’d, without a Rider, at the Entrance of the Wood; and +going farther, to see if he could find its Owner, found there the Prince +almost dead; he immediately mounts him on the Horse, and himself behind, +bore him up, and carry’d him to the Lodge; where he had only one old +Man, his Father, well skilled in Surgery, and a Boy. They put him to +Bed; and the old Forester, with what Art he had, dress’d his Wounds, and +in the Morning sent for an abler Surgeon, to whom the Prince enjoin’d +Secrecy, because he knew him. The Man was faithful, and the Prince in +Time was recover’d of his Wound; and as soon as he was well, he came to +<i>Flanders</i>, in the Habit of a Pilgrim, and after some Time took the +Order of St. <i>Francis</i>, none knowing what became of him, till he +was profess’d; and then he wrote his own Story to the Prince his Father, +to his Mistress, and his ungrateful Brother. The young Princess did not +long survive his Loss, she languished from the Moment of his Departure; +and he had this to confirm his devout Life, to know she dy’d for +him.</p> + +<p>‘My Brother, Madam, was an Officer under the Prince his Father, and +knew his Story perfectly well; from whose Mouth I had it<ins class = +"correction" title = "close quote missing">.’ </ins></p> + +<p><i>What!</i> (reply’d <i>Miranda</i> then) <i>is Father +<em>Henrick</em> a Man of Quality</i>? <i>Yes, Madam</i>, (said +<i>Cornelia</i>) <i>and has +<span class = "pagenum">86</span> +changed his Name to <em>Francisco</em>.</i> But <i>Miranda</i>, fearing +to betray the Sentiments of her Heart, by asking any more Questions +about him, turned the Discourse; and some Persons of Quality came in to +visit her (for her Apartment was about six o’Clock, like the +Presence-Chamber of a Queen, always filled with the greatest People): +There meet all the <i>Beaux Esprits</i>, and all the Beauties. But it +was visible <i>Miranda</i> was not so gay as she used to be; but +pensive, and answering <i>mal a propos</i> to all that was said to her. +She was a thousand times going to speak, against her Will, something of +the charming Friar, who was never from her Thoughts; and she imagined, +if he could inspire Love in a coarse, grey, ill-made Habit, a shorn +Crown, a Hair-cord about his Waist, bare-legg’d, in Sandals instead +of Shoes; what must he do, when looking back on Time, she beholds him in +a Prospect of Glory, with all that Youth, and illustrious Beauty, set +off by the Advantage of Dress and Equipage? She frames an Idea of him +all gay and splendid, and looks on his present Habit as some Disguise +proper for the Stealths of Love; some feigned put-on Shape, with the +more Security to approach a Mistress, and make himself happy; and that +the Robe laid by, she has the Lover in his proper Beauty, the same he +would have been, if any other Habit (though ever so rich) were put off: +In the Bed, the silent gloomy Night, and the soft Embraces of her Arms, +he loses all the Friar, and assumes all the Prince; and that aweful +Reverence, due alone to his Holy Habit, he exchanges for a thousand +Dalliances, for which his Youth was made; for Love, for tender Embraces, +and all the Happiness of Life. Some Moments she fancies him a Lover, and +that the fair Object that takes up all his Heart, has left no Room for +her there; but that was a Thought that did not long perplex her, and +which, almost as soon as born, she turned to her Advantage. She beholds +him a Lover, and therefore finds he has a Heart sensible and tender; he +had Youth to be fir’d, as well as +<span class = "pagenum">87</span> +to inspire; he was far from the loved Object, and totally without Hope; +and she reasonably consider’d, that Flame would of itself soon die, that +had only Despair to feed on. She beheld her own Charms; and Experience, +as well as her Glass, told her, they never failed of Conquest, +especially where they designed it: And she believed <i>Henrick</i> would +be glad, at least, to quench that Flame in himself, by an Amour with +her, which was kindled by the young Princess of <span class = +"dash">——</span> his Sister.</p> + +<p>These, and a thousand other Self-flatteries, all vain and indiscreet, +took up her waking Nights, and now more retired Days; while Love, to +make her truly wretched, suffered her to sooth herself with fond +Imaginations; not so much as permitting her Reason to plead one Moment +to save her from undoing: She would not suffer it to tell her, he had +taken Holy Orders, made sacred and solemn Vows of everlasting Chastity, +that it was impossible he could marry her, or lay before her any +Argument that might prevent her Ruin; but Love, mad malicious Love, was +always called to Counsel, and, like easy Monarchs, she had no Ears, but +for Flatterers.</p> + +<p>Well then, she is resolv’d to love, without considering to what End, +and what must be the Consequence of such an Amour. She now miss’d no Day +of being at that little Church, where she had the Happiness, or rather +the Misfortune (so Love ordained) to see this Ravisher of her Heart +and Soul; and every Day she took new Fire from his lovely Eyes. +Unawares, unknown, and unwillingly, he gave her Wounds, and the +Difficulty of her Cure made her rage the more: She burnt, she +languished, and died for the young Innocent, who knew not he was the +Author of so much Mischief.</p> + +<p>Now she resolves a thousand Ways in her tortur’d Mind, to let him +know her Anguish, and at last pitch’d upon that of writing to him soft +Billets, which she had learn’d the Art of doing; or if she had not, she +had now Fire +<span class = "pagenum">88</span> +enough to inspire her with all that could charm and move. These she +deliver’d to a young Wench, who waited on her, and whom she had entirely +subdu’d to her Interest, to give to a certain Lay-Brother of the Order, +who was a very simple harmless Wretch, and who served in the Kitchen, in +the Nature of a Cook, in the Monastery of <i>Cordeliers</i>. She gave +him Gold to secure his Faith and Service; and not knowing from whence +they came (with so good Credentials) he undertook to deliver the Letters +to Father <i>Francisco</i>; which Letters were all afterwards, as you +shall hear, produced in open Court. These Letters failed not to come +every Day; and the Sense of the first was, to tell him, that a very +beautiful young Lady, of a great Fortune, was in love with him, without +naming her; but it came as from a third Person, to let him know the +Secret, that she desir’d he would let her know whether she might hope +any Return from him; assuring him, he needed but only see the fair +Languisher, to confess himself her Slave.</p> + +<p>This Letter being deliver’d him, he read by himself, and was +surpriz’d to receive Words of this Nature, being so great a Stranger in +that Place; and could not imagine or would not give himself the Trouble +of guessing who this should be, because he never designed to make +Returns.</p> + +<p>The next Day, <i>Miranda</i>, finding no Advantage from her Messenger +of Love, in the Evening sends another (impatient of Delay) confessing +that she who suffer’d the Shame of writing and imploring, was the Person +herself who ador’d him. ’Twas there her raging Love made her say all +Things that discover’d the Nature of its Flame, and propose to flee with +him to any Part of the World, if he would quit the Convent; that she had +a Fortune considerable enough to make him happy; and that his Youth and +Quality were not given him to so unprofitable an End as to lose +themselves in a Convent, where Poverty and Ease was all the Business. In +fine, she leaves nothing unurg’d that might debauch and invite him; not +forgetting +<span class = "pagenum">89</span> +to send him her own Character of Beauty, and left him to judge of her +Wit and Spirit by her Writing, and her Love by the Extremity of Passion +she profess’d. To all which the lovely Friar made no Return, as +believing a gentle Capitulation or Exhortation to her would but inflame +her the more, and give new Occasions for her continuing to write. All +her Reasonings, false and vicious, he despis’d, pity’d the Error of her +Love, and was Proof against all she could plead. Yet +notwith­standing his Silence, which left her in Doubt, and more +tormented her, she ceas’d not to pursue him with her Letters, varying +her Style; sometimes all wanton, loose and raving; sometimes feigning a +Virgin-Modesty all over, accusing her self, blaming her Conduct, and +sighing her Destiny, as one compell’d to the shameful Discovery by the +Austerity of his Vow and Habit, asking his Pity and Forgiveness; urging +him in Charity to use his Fatherly Care to persuade and reason with her +wild Desires, and by his Counsel drive the God from her Heart, whose +Tyranny was worse than that of a Fiend; and he did not know what his +pious Advice might do. But still she writes in vain, in vain she varies +her Style, by a Cunning, peculiar to a Maid possess’d with such a sort +of Passion.</p> + +<p>This cold Neglect was still Oil to the burning Lamp, and she tries +yet more Arts, which for want of right Thinking were as fruitless. She +has Recourse to Presents; her Letters came loaded with Rings of great +Price, and Jewels, which Fops of Quality had given her. Many of this +Sort he receiv’d, before he knew where to return ’em, or how; and on +this Occasion alone he sent her a Letter, and restor’d her Trifles, as +he call’d them: But his Habit having not made him forget his Quality and +Education, he wrote to her with all the profound Respect imaginable; +believing by her Presents, and the Liberality with which she parted with +’em, that she was of Quality. But the whole Letter, as he told me +afterwards, was to persuade +<span class = "pagenum">90</span> +her from the Honour she did him, by loving him; urging a thousand +Reasons, solid and pious, and assuring her, he had wholly devoted the +rest of his Days to Heaven, and had no Need of those gay Trifles she had +sent him, which were only fit to adorn Ladies so fair as herself, and +who had Business with this glittering World, which he disdain’d, and had +for ever abandon’d. He sent her a thousand Blessings, and told her, she +should be ever in his Prayers, tho’ not in his Heart, as she desir’d: +And abundance of Goodness more he express’d, and Counsel he gave her, +which had the same Effect with his Silence; it made her love but the +more, and the more impatient she grew. She now had a new Occasion to +write, she now is charm’d with his Wit; this was the new Subject. She +rallies his Resolution, and endeavours to re-call him to the World, by +all the Arguments that human Invention is capable of.</p> + +<p>But when she had above four Months languish’d thus in vain, not +missing one Day, wherein she went not to see him, without discovering +herself to him; she resolv’d, as her last Effort, to shew her Person, +and see what that, assisted by her Tears, and soft Words from her Mouth, +could do, to prevail upon him.</p> + +<p>It happen’d to be on the Eve of that Day when she was to receive the +Sacrament, that she, covering herself with her Veil, came to +<i>Vespers</i>, purposing to make Choice of the conquering Friar for her +Confessor.</p> + +<p>She approach’d him; and as she did so, she trembled with Love. At +last she cry’d, <i>Father, my Confessor is gone for some Time from the +Town, and I am obliged To-morrow to receive, and beg you will be pleas’d +to take my Confession.</i></p> + +<p>He could not refuse her; and let her into the <i>Sacristy</i>, where +there is a Confession-Chair, in which he seated himself; and on one Side +of him she kneel’d down, over-against a little Altar, where the Priests +Robes lye, on which were plac’d some lighted Wax-Candles, that made the +<span class = "pagenum">91</span> +little Place very light and splendid, which shone full upon +<i>Miranda</i>.</p> + +<p>After the little Preparation usual in Confession, she turn’d up her +Veil, and discover’d to his View the most wondrous Object of Beauty he +had ever seen, dress’d in all the Glory of a young Bride; her Hair and +Stomacher full of Diamonds, that gave a Lustre all dazling to her +brighter Face and Eyes. He was surpriz’d at her amazing Beauty, and +question’d whether he saw a Woman, or an Angel at his Feet. Her Hands, +which were elevated, as if in Prayer, seem’d to be form’d of polish’d +Alabaster; and he confess’d, he had never seen any Thing in Nature so +perfect and so admirable.</p> + +<p>He had some Pain to compose himself to hear her Confession, and was +oblig’d to turn away his Eyes, that his Mind might not be perplex’d with +an Object so diverting; when <i>Miranda</i>, opening the finest Mouth in +the World, and discovering new Charms, began her Confession.</p> + +<p>‘Holy Father (<i>said she</i>) amongst the Number of my vile +Offences, that which afflicts me to the greatest Degree, is, that I am +in love: Not (<i>continued she</i>) that I believe simple and virtuous +Love a Sin, when ’tis plac’d on an Object proper and suitable; but, my +dear Father, (<i>said she, and wept</i>) I love with a Violence which +cannot be contain’d within the Bounds of Reason, Moderation, or Virtue. +I love a Man whom I cannot possess without a Crime, and a Man who +cannot make me happy without being perjur’d. Is he marry’d? (<i>reply’d +the Father.</i>) No; (<i>answer’d <em>Miranda</em>.</i>) Are you so? +(<i>continued he.</i>) Neither, (<i>said she.</i>) Is he too near +ally’d to you? (<i>said <em>Francisco</em>:</i>) a Brother, or +Relation? Neither of these, (<i>said she.</i>) He is unenjoy’d, +unpromis’d; and so am I: Nothing opposes our Happiness, or makes my Love +a Vice, but you—’Tis you deny me Life: ’Tis you that forbid my +Flame: ’Tis you will have me die, and seek my Remedy in my Grave, when I +complain of Tortures, Wounds, and Flames. +<span class = "pagenum">92</span> +O cruel Charmer! ’tis for you I languish; and here, at your Feet, +implore that Pity, which all my Addresses have fail’d of procuring +me.’—</p> + +<p>With that, perceiving he was about to rise from his Seat, she held +him by his Habit, and vow’d she would in that Posture follow him, +where-ever he flew from her. She elevated her Voice so loud, he was +afraid she might be heard, and therefore suffer’d her to force him into +his Chair again; where being seated, he began, in the most passionate +Terms imaginable, to dissuade her; but finding she the more persisted in +Eagerness of Passion, he us’d all the tender Assurance that he could +force from himself, that he would have for her all the Respect, Esteem +and Friendship that he was capable of paying; that he had a real +Compassion for her: and at last she prevail’d so far with him, by her +Sighs and Tears, as to own he had a Tenderness for her, and that he +could not behold so many Charms, without being sensibly touch’d by ’em, +and finding all those Effects, that a Maid so fair and young causes in +the Souls of Men of Youth and Sense: But that, as he was assured, he +could never be so happy to marry her, and as certain he could not grant +any Thing but honourable Passion, he humbly besought her not to expect +more from him than such. And then began to tell her how short Life was, +and transitory its Joys; how soon she would grow weary of Vice, and how +often change to find real Repose in it, but never arrive to it. He made +an End, by new Assurance of his eternal Friendship, but utterly forbad +her to hope.</p> + +<p>Behold her now deny’d, refus’d and defeated, with all her pleading +Youth, Beauty, Tears, and Knees, imploring, as she lay, holding fast his +<i>Scapular</i>, and embracing his Feet. What shall she do? She swells +with Pride, Love, Indignation and Desire; her burning Heart is bursting +with Despair, her Eyes grow fierce, and from Grief she rises to a Storm; +and in her Agony of Passion, with Looks +<span class = "pagenum">93</span> +all disdainful, haughty, and full of Rage, she began to revile him, as +the poorest of Animals; tells him his Soul was dwindled to the Meanness +of his Habit, and his Vows of Poverty were suited to his degenerate +Mind. ‘And (<i>said she</i>) since all my nobler Ways have fail’d me; +and that, for a little Hypocritical Devotion, you resolve to lose the +greatest Blessings of Life, and to sacrifice me to your Religious Pride +and Vanity, I will either force you to abandon that dull +Dissimulation, or you shall die, to prove your Sanctity real. Therefore +answer me immediately, answer my Flame, my raging Fire, which your Eyes +have kindled; or here, in this very Moment, I will ruin thee; and +make no Scruple of revenging the Pains I suffer, by that which shall +take away your Life and Honour.’</p> + +<p>The trembling young Man, who, all this While, with extreme Anguish of +Mind, and Fear of the dire Result, had listen’d to her Ravings, full of +Dread, demanded what she would have him do? When she reply’d—‘Do +that which thy Youth and Beauty were ordain’d to do:—this Place is +private, a sacred Silence reigns here, and no one dares to pry into +the Secrets of this Holy Place: We are as secure from Fears and +Interruption, as in Desarts uninhabited, or Caves forsaken by wild +Beasts. The Tapers too shall veil their Lights, and only that glimmering +Lamp shall be Witness of our dear Stealths of Love—Come to my +Arms, my trembling, longing Arms; and curse the Folly of thy Bigotry, +that has made thee so long lose a Blessing, for which so many Princes +sigh in vain.’</p> + +<p>At these Words she rose from his Feet, and snatching him in her Arms, +he could not defend himself from receiving a thousand Kisses from the +lovely Mouth of the charming Wanton; after which, she ran herself, and +in an Instant put out the Candles. But he cry’d to her, ‘In vain, +O too indiscreet Fair One, in vain you put out the Light; for +Heaven still has Eyes, and will look down upon my broken Vows. +I own your Power, I own I have all the +<span class = "pagenum">94</span> +Sense in the World of your charming Touches; I am frail Flesh and +Blood, but—yet—yet I can resist; and I prefer my Vows to all +your powerful Temptations.—I will be deaf and blind, and +guard my Heart with Walls of Ice, and make you know, that when the +Flames of true Devotion are kindled in a Heart, it puts out all other +Fires; which are as ineffectual, as Candles lighted in the Face of the +Sun.—Go, vain Wanton, and repent, and mortify that Blood which has +so shamefully betray’d thee, and which will one Day ruin both thy Soul +and Body.’—</p> + +<p>At these Words <i>Miranda</i>, more enrag’d, the nearer she imagin’d +her self to Happiness, made no Reply; but throwing her self, in that +Instant, into the Confessing-Chair, and violently pulling the young +Friar into her Lap, she elevated her Voice to such a Degree, in crying +out, <i>Help, Help! A Rape! Help, Help!</i> that she was heard all +over the Church, which was full of People at the Evening’s Devotion; who +flock’d about the Door of the <i>Sacristy</i>, which was shut with a +Spring-Lock on the Inside, but they durst not open the Door.</p> + +<p>’Tis easily to be imagin’d, in what Condition our young Friar was, at +this last devilish Stratagem of his wicked Mistress. He strove to break +from those Arms that held him so fast; and his Bustling to get away, and +her’s to retain him, disorder’d her Hair and Habit to such a Degree, as +gave the more Credit to her false Accusation.</p> + +<p>The Fathers had a Door on the other Side, by which they usually +enter’d, to dress in this little Room; and at the Report that was in an +Instant made ’em, they hasted thither, and found <i>Miranda</i> and the +good Father very indecently struggling; which they mis-interpreted, as +<i>Miranda</i> desir’d; who, all in Tears, immediately threw her self at +the Feet of the Provincial, who was one of those that enter’d; and +cry’d, ‘O holy Father! revenge an innocent Maid, undone and lost to +Fame and Honour, by that vile Monster, born of Goats, nurs’d by Tygers, +<span class = "pagenum">95</span> +and bred up on savage Mountains, where Humanity and Religion are +Strangers. For, O holy Father, could it have enter’d into the Heart +of Man, to have done so barbarous and horrid a Deed, as to attempt the +Virgin-Honour of an unspotted Maid, and one of my Degree, even in the +Moment of my Confession, in that holy Time, when I was prostrate before +him and Heaven, confessing those Sins that press’d my tender Conscience; +even then to load my Soul with the blackest of Infamies, to add to my +Number a Weight that must sink me to Hell? Alas! under the Security of +his innocent Looks, his holy Habit, and his aweful Function, I was +led into this Room to make my Confession; where, he locking the Door, +I had no sooner began, but he gazing on me, took fire at my fatal +Beauty; and starting up, put out the Candles and caught me in his Arms; +and raising me from the Pavement, set me in the Confession-Chair; and +then—Oh, spare me the rest.’</p> + +<p>With that a Shower of Tears burst from her fair dissembling Eyes, and +Sobs so naturally acted, and so well manag’d, as left no doubt upon the +good Men, but all she had spoken was Truth.</p> + +<p>‘—At first, (<i>proceeded she</i>) I was unwilling to bring so +great a Scandal on his Order, to cry out; but struggled as long as I had +Breath; pleaded the Heinousness of the Crime, urging my Quality, and the +Danger of the Attempt. But he, deaf as the Winds, and ruffling as a +Storm, pursu’d his wild Design with so much Force and Insolence, as I at +last, unable to resist, was wholly vanquish’d, robb’d of my native +Purity. With what Life and Breath I had, I call’d for Assistance, +both from Men and Heaven; but oh, alas! your Succours came too +late:—You find me here a wretched, undone, and ravish’d Maid. +Revenge me, Fathers; revenge me on the perfidious Hypocrite, or else +give me a Death that may secure your Cruelty and Injustice from ever +being proclaim’d over the World; or my +<span class = "pagenum">96</span> +Tongue will be eternally reproaching you, and cursing the wicked Author +of my Infamy.’</p> + +<p>She ended as she began, with a thousand Sighs and Tears; and received +from the Provincial all Assurances of Revenge.</p> + +<p>The innocent betray’d Victim, all the while she was speaking, heard +her with an Astonishment that may easily be imagined; yet shew’d no +extravagant Signs of it, as those would do, who feign it, to be thought +innocent; but being really so, he bore with an humble, modest, and +blushing Countenance, all her Accusations; which silent Shame they +mistook for evident Signs of his Guilt.</p> + +<p>When the Provincial demanded, with an unwonted Severity in his Eyes +and Voice, what he could answer for himself? calling him Profaner of his +Sacred Vows, and Infamy to the Holy Order; the injur’d, but innocently +accus’d, only reply’d: ‘May Heaven forgive that bad Woman, and bring her +to Repentance! For his Part, he was not so much in Love with Life, as to +use many arguments to justify his Innocence; unless it were to free that +Order from a Scandal, of which he had the Honour to be profess’d. But as +for himself, Life or Death were Things indifferent to him, who heartily +despis’d the World.’</p> + +<p>He said no more, and suffer’d himself to be led before the +Magistrate; who committed him to Prison, upon the Accusation of this +implacable Beauty; who, with so much feign’d Sorrow, prosecuted the +Matter, even to his Tryal and Condemnation; where he refus’d to make any +great Defence for himself. But being daily visited by all the Religious, +both of his own and other Orders, they oblig’d him (some of ’em knowing +the Austerity of his Life, others his Cause of Griefs that first brought +him into Orders, and others pretending a nearer Knowledge, even of his +Soul it self) to stand upon his Justification, and discover what he knew +of that wicked Woman; whose Life had not been so exemplary for Virtue, +not to have given the World a thousand Suspicions of her Lewdness and +Prostitutions.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">97</span> +<p>The daily Importunities of these Fathers made him produce her +Letters: But as he had all the Gown-men on his Side, she had all the +Hats and Feathers on her’s; all the Men of Quality taking her Part, and +all the Church-men his. They heard his daily Protestations and Vows, but +not a Word of what passed at Confession was yet discover’d: He held that +as a Secret sacred on his Part; and what was said in Nature of a +Confession, was not to be revealed, though his Life depended on the +Discovery. But as to the Letters, they were forc’d from him, and +expos’d; however, Matters were carry’d with so high a Hand against him, +that they serv’d for no Proof at all of his Innocence, and he was at +last condemn’d to be burn’d at the Market-Place.</p> + +<p>After his Sentence was pass’d, the whole Body of Priests made their +Addresses to the Marquis <i>Castel Roderigo</i>, the then Governor of +<i>Flanders</i>, for a Reprieve; which, after much ado, was granted him +for some Weeks, but with an absolute Denial of Pardon: So prevailing +were the young Cavaliers of his Court, who were all Adorers of this Fair +Jilt.</p> + +<p>About this time, while the poor innocent young <i>Henrick</i> was +thus languishing in Prison, in a dark and dismal Dungeon, and +<i>Miranda</i>, cured of her Love, was triumphing in her Revenge, +expecting and daily giving new Conquests; and who, by this time, had +re-assum’d all her wonted Gaiety; there was a great Noise about the +Town, that a Prince of mighty Name, and fam’d for all the Excellencies +of his Sex, was arriv’d; a Prince young, and gloriously attended, +call’d Prince <i>Tarquin</i>.</p> + +<p>We had often heard of this great Man, and that he was making his +Travels in <i>France</i> and <i>Germany</i>: And we had also heard, that +some Years before, he being about Eighteen Years of Age, in the Time +when our King <i>Charles</i>, of blessed Memory, was in <i>Brussels</i>, +in the last Year of his Banishment, that all on a sudden, this young Man +rose up upon ’em like the Sun, all glorious and dazling, demanding +<span class = "pagenum">98</span> +Place of all the Princes in that Court. And when his Pretence was +demanded, he own’d himself Prince <i>Tarquin</i>, of the Race of the +last Kings of <i>Rome</i>, made good his Title, and took his Place +accordingly. After that he travell’d for about six Years up and down the +World, and then arriv’d at <i>Antwerp</i>, about the Time of my being +sent thither by King <i>Charles</i>.</p> + +<p>Perhaps there could be nothing seen so magnificent as this Prince: He +was, as I said, extremely handsome, from Head to Foot exactly form’d, +and he wanted nothing that might adorn that native Beauty to the best +Advantage. His Parts were suitable to the rest: He had an Accomplishment +fit for a Prince, an Air haughty, but a Carriage affable, easy in +Conversation, and very entertaining, liberal and good-natur’d, brave and +inoffensive. I have seen him pass the Streets with twelve Footmen, +and four Pages; the Pages all in green Velvet Coats lac’d with Gold, and +white Velvet Tunicks; the Men in Cloth, richly lac’d with Gold; his +Coaches, and all other Officers, suitable to a great Man.</p> + +<p>He was all the Discourse of the Town; some laughing at his Title, +others reverencing it: Some cry’d, that he was an Imposter; others, that +he had made his Title as plain, as if <i>Tarquin</i> had reign’d but a +Year ago. Some made Friendships with him, others would have nothing to +say to him: But all wonder’d where his Revenue was, that supported this +Grandeur; and believ’d, tho’ he could make his Descent from the +<i>Roman</i> Kings very well out, that he could not lay so good a Claim +to the <i>Roman</i> Land. Thus every body meddled with what they had +nothing to do; and, as in other Places, thought themselves on the surer +Side, if, in these doubtful Cases, they imagin’d the worst.</p> + +<p>But the Men might be of what Opinion they pleas’d concerning him; the +Ladies were all agreed that he was a Prince, and a young handsome +Prince, and a Prince not +<span class = "pagenum">99</span> +to be resisted: He had all their Wishes, all their Eyes, and all their +Hearts. They now dress’d only for him; and what Church he grac’d, was +sure, that Day, to have the Beauties, and all that thought +themselves so.</p> + +<p>You may believe, our amorous <i>Miranda</i> was not the least +Conquest he made. She no sooner heard of him, which was as soon as he +arriv’d, but she fell in love with his very Name. <i>Jesu!</i>—A +young King of <i>Rome!</i> Oh, it was so novel, that she doated on the +Title; and had not car’d whether the rest had been Man or Monkey almost: +She was resolved to be the <i>Lucretia</i> that this young +<i>Tarquin</i> should ravish.</p> + +<p>To this End, she was no sooner up the next Day, but she sent him a +<i>Billet Doux</i>, assuring him how much she admired his Fame; and that +being a Stranger in the Town, she begged the Honour of introducing him +to all the <i>Belle</i> Conversations, <i>&c.</i> which he took for +the Invitation of some Coquet, who had Interest in fair Ladies; and +civilly return’d her an Answer, that he would wait on her. She had him +that Day watched to Church; and impatient to see what she heard so many +People flock to see, she went also to the same Church; those sanctified +Abodes being too often profaned by such Devotees, whose Business is to +ogle and ensnare.</p> + +<p>But what a Noise and Humming was heard all over the Church, when +<i>Tarquin</i> enter’d! His Grace, his Mein, his Fashion, his Beauty, +his Dress, and his Equipage surprized all that were present: And by the +good Management and Care of <i>Miranda</i>, she got to kneel at the Side +of the Altar, just over against the Prince, so that, if he would, he +could not avoid looking full upon her. She had turned up her Veil, and +all her Face and Shape appear’d such, and so inchanting, as I have +described; and her Beauty heighten’d with Blushes, and her Eyes full of +Spirit and Fire, with Joy, to find the young <i>Roman</i> Monarch so +charming, she appear’d like something more than mortal, and compelled +<span class = "pagenum">100</span> +his Eyes to a fixed gazing on her Face: She never glanc’d that Way, but +she met them; and then would feign so modest a Shame, and cast her Eyes +downwards with such inviting Art, that he was wholly ravished and +charmed, and she over-joy’d to find he was so.</p> + +<p>The Ceremony being ended, he sent a Page to follow that Lady Home, +himself pursuing her to the Door of the Church, where he took some holy +Water, and threw upon her, and made her a profound Reverence. She forc’d +an innocent Look, and a modest Gratitude in her Face, and bow’d, and +passed forward, half assur’d of her Conquest; leaving her, to go home to +his Lodging, and impatiently wait the Return of his Page. And all the +Ladies who saw this first Beginning between the Prince and +<i>Miranda</i>, began to curse and envy her Charms, who had deprived +them of half their Hopes.</p> + +<p>After this, I need not tell you, he made <i>Miranda</i> a Visit; and +from that Day never left her Apartment, but when he went home at Nights, +or unless he had Business; so entirely was he conquer’d by this Fair +One. But the Bishop, and several Men of Quality, in Orders, that +profess’d Friendship to him, advised him from her Company; and spoke +several Things to him, that might (if Love had not made him blind) +have reclaimed him from the Pursuit of his Ruin. But whatever they +trusted him with, she had the Art to wind herself about his Heart, and +make him unravel all his Secrets; and then knew as well, by feign’d +Sighs and Tears, to make him disbelieve all; so that he had no Faith but +for her; and was wholly inchanted and bewitch’d by her. At last, in +spite of all that would have opposed it, he marry’d this famous Woman, +possess’d by so many great Men and Strangers before, while all the World +was pitying his Shame and Misfortunes.</p> + +<p>Being marry’d, they took a great House; and as she was indeed a great +Fortune, and now a great Princess, there was nothing wanting that was +agreeable to their +<span class = "pagenum">101</span> +Quality; all was splendid and magnificent. But all this would not +acquire them the World’s Esteem; they had an Abhorrence for her former +Life, and despised her; and for his espousing a Woman so infamous, they +despised him. So that though they admir’d, and gazed upon their +Equipage, and glorious Dress, they foresaw the Ruin that attended it, +and paid her Quality little Respect.</p> + +<p>She was no sooner married, but her Uncle died; and dividing his +Fortune between <i>Miranda</i> and her Sister, leaves the young Heiress, +and all her Fortune, entirely in the Hands of the Princess.</p> + +<p>We will call this Sister <i>Alcidiana</i>; she was about fourteen +Years of Age, and now had chosen her Brother, the Prince, for her +Guardian. If <i>Alcidiana</i> were not altogether so great a Beauty as +her Sister, she had Charms sufficient to procure her a great many +Lovers, though her Fortune had not been so considerable as it was; but +with that Addition, you may believe, she wanted no Courtships from those +of the best Quality; tho’ every body deplor’d her being under the +Tutorage of a Lady so expert in all the Vices of her Sex, and so cunning +a Manager of Sin, as was the Princess; who, on her Part, failed not, by +all the Caresses, and obliging Endearments, to engage the Mind of this +young Maid, and to subdue her wholly to her Government. All her Senses +were eternally regaled with the most bewitching Pleasures they were +capable of: She saw nothing but Glory and Magnificence, heard nothing +but Musick of the sweetest Sounds; the richest Perfumes employ’d her +Smelling; and all she eat and touch’d was delicate and inviting; and +being too young to consider how this State and Grandeur was to be +continu’d, little imagined her vast Fortune was every Day diminishing, +towards its needless Support.</p> + +<p>When the Princess went to Church, she had her Gentleman bare before +her, carrying a great Velvet Cushion, with great Golden Tassels, for her +to kneel on, and her +<span class = "pagenum">102</span> +Train borne up a most prodigious Length, led by a Gentleman Usher, bare; +follow’d by innumerable Footmen, Pages, and Women. And in this State she +would walk in the Streets, as in those Countries it is the Fashion for +the great Ladies to do, who are well; and in her Train two or three +Coaches, and perhaps a rich Velvet Chair embroider’d, would follow in +State.</p> + +<p>It was thus for some time they liv’d, and the Princess was daily +press’d by young sighing Lovers, for her Consent to marry +<i>Alcidiana</i>; but she had still one Art or other to put them off, +and so continually broke all the great Matches that were proposed to +her, notwith­standing their Kindred and other Friends had +industriously endeavour’d to make several great Matches for her; but the +Princess was still positive in her Denial, and one Way or other broke +all. At last it happened, there was one proposed, yet more advantageous, +a young Count, with whom the young Maid grew passionately in Love, +and besought her Sister to consent that she might have him, and got the +Prince to speak in her Behalf; but he had no sooner heard the secret +Reasons <i>Miranda</i> gave him, but (entirely her Slave) he chang’d his +Mind, and suited it to hers, and she, as before, broke off that Amour: +Which so extremely incensed <i>Alcidiana</i>, <ins class = "correction" +title = "text reads ‘the’">that</ins> she, taking an Opportunity, got +from her Guard, and ran away, putting her self into the Hands of a <ins +class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘wealty’">wealthy</ins> +Merchant, her Kinsman, and one who bore the greatest Authority in the +City; him she chuses for her Guardian, resolving to be no longer a Slave +to the Tyranny of her Sister. And so well she ordered Matters, that she +writ this young Cavalier, her last Lover, and retrieved him; who came +back to <i>Antwerp</i> again, to renew his Courtship.</p> + +<p>Both Parties being agreed, it was no hard Matter to persuade all but +the Princess. But though she opposed it, it was resolved on, and the Day +appointed for Marriage, and the Portion demanded; demanded only, but +never +<span class = "pagenum">103</span> +to be paid, the best Part of it being spent. However, she put them off +from Day to Day, by a thousand frivolous Delays; and when she saw they +would have Recourse to Force, and all that her Magnificence would be at +an End, if the Law should prevail against her; and that without this +Sister’s Fortune, she could not long support her Grandeur; she bethought +herself of a Means to make it all her own, by getting her Sister made +away; but she being out of her Tuition, she was not able to accomplish +so great a Deed of Darkness. But since it was resolved it must be done, +she contrives a thousand Stratagems; and at last pitches upon an +effectual one.</p> + +<p>She had a Page call’d <i>Van Brune</i>, a Youth of great Address and +Wit, and one she had long managed for her Purpose. This Youth was about +seventeen Years of Age, and extremely beautiful; and in the Time when +<i>Alcidiana</i> lived with the Princess, she was a little in Love with +this handsome Boy; but it was checked in its Infancy, and never grew up +to a Flame: Nevertheless, <i>Alcidiana</i> retained still a sort of +Tenderness for him, while he burn’d in good Earnest with Love for the +Princess.</p> + +<p>The Princess one Day ordering this Page to wait on her in her Closet, +she shut the Door; and after a thousand Questions of what he would +undertake to serve her, the amorous Boy finding himself alone, and +caress’d by the fair Person he ador’d, with joyful Blushes that +beautify’d his Face, told her, ‘There was nothing upon Earth, he would +not do, to obey her least Commands.’ She grew more familiar with him, to +oblige him; and seeing Love dance in his Eyes, of which she was so good +a Judge, she treated him more like a Lover, than a Servant; till at last +the ravished Youth, wholly transported out of himself, fell at her Feet, +and impatiently implor’d to receive her Commands quickly, that he might +fly to execute them; for he was not able to bear her charming Words, +Looks, and Touches, and retain his Duty. At this she smil’d, and +<span class = "pagenum">104</span> +told him, the Work was of such a Nature, as would mortify all Flames +about him; and he would have more Need of Rage, Envy, and Malice, than +the Aids of a Passion so soft as what she now found him capable of. He +assur’d her, he would stick at nothing, tho’ even against his Nature, to +recompense for the Boldness he now, through his Indiscretion, had +discover’d. She smiling, told him, he had committed no Fault; and that +possibly, the Pay he should receive for the Service she required at his +Hands, should be—what he most wish’d for in the World. At this he +bow’d to the Earth; and kissing her Feet, bad her command: And then she +boldly told him, <i>’Twas to kill her Sister</i> Alcidiana. The Youth, +without so much as starting or pausing upon the Matter, told her, <i>It +should be done</i>; and bowing low, immediately went out of the Closet. +She call’d him back, and would have given him some Instruction; but he +refused it, and said, ‘The Action and the Contrivance should be all his +own.’ And offering to go again, she—again recalled him; putting +into his Hand a Purse of a hundred Pistoles, which he took, and with a +low Bow departed.</p> + +<p>He no sooner left her Presence, but he goes directly, and buys a Dose +of Poison, and went immediately to the House where <i>Alcidiana</i> +lived; where desiring to be brought to her Presence, he fell a weeping; +and told her, his Lady had fallen out with him, and dismissed him her +Service, and since from a Child he had been brought up in the Family, he +humbly besought <i>Alcidiana</i> to receive him into hers, she being in +a few Days to be marry’d. There needed not much Intreaty to a Thing that +pleased her so well, and she immediately received him to Pension: And he +waited some Days on her, before he could get an Opportunity to +administer his devilish Potion. But one Night, when she drank Wine with +roasted Apples, which was usual with her; instead of Sugar, or with the +Sugar, the baneful Drug was mixed, and she drank it down.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">105</span> +<p>About this Time, there was a great Talk of this Page’s coming from +one Sister, to go to the other. And Prince <i>Tarquin</i>, who was +ignorant of the Design from the Beginning to the End, hearing some Men +of Quality at his Table speaking of <i>Van Brune’s</i> Change of Place +(the Princess then keeping her Chamber upon some trifling Indisposition) +he answer’d, ‘That surely they were mistaken, that he was not dismissed +from the Princess’s Service:’ And calling some of his Servants, he asked +for <i>Van Brune</i>; and whether any Thing had happen’d between her +Highness and him, that had occasion’d his being turned off. They all +seem’d ignorant of this Matter; and those who had spoken of it, began to +fancy there was some Juggle in the Case, which Time would bring to +Light.</p> + +<p>The ensuing Day ’twas all about the Town, that <i>Alcidiana</i> was +poison’d; and though not dead, yet very near it; and that the Doctors +said, she had taken Mercury. So that there was never so formidable a +Sight as this fair young Creature; her Head and Body swoln, her Eyes +starting out, her Face black, and all deformed: So that diligent Search +was made, who it should be that did this; who gave her Drink and Meat. +The Cook and Butler were examined, the Footman called to an Account; but +all concluded, she received nothing but from the Hand of her new Page, +since he came into her Service. He was examined, and shew’d a thousand +guilty Looks: And the Apothecary, then attending among the Doctors, +proved he had bought Mercury of him three or four Days before; which he +could not deny; and making many Excuses for his buying it, betray’d him +the more; so ill he chanced to dissemble. He was immediately sent to be +examined by the Margrave or Justice, who made his <i>Mittimus</i>, and +sent him to Prison.</p> + +<p>’Tis easy to imagine, in what Fears and Confusion the Princess was at +this News: She took her Chamber upon it, more to hide her guilty Face, +than for any Indisposition. +<span class = "pagenum">106</span> +And the Doctors apply’d such Remedies to <i>Alcidiana</i>, such +Antidotes against the Poison, that in a short Time she recover’d; but +lost the finest Hair in the World, and the Complexion of her Face ever +after.</p> + +<p>It was not long before the Trials for Criminals came on; and the Day +being arrived, <i>Van Brune</i> was try’d the first of all; every Body +having already read his Destiny, according as they wished it; and none +would believe, but just indeed as it was: So that for the Revenge they +hoped to see fall upon the Princess, every one wished he might find no +Mercy, that she might share of his Shame and Misery.</p> + +<p>The Sessions-House was filled that Day with all the Ladies, and chief +of the Town, to hear the Result of his Trial; and the sad Youth was +brought, loaded with Chains, and pale as Death; where every Circumstance +being sufficiently proved against him, and he making but a weak Defence +for himself, he was convicted, and sent back to Prison, to receive his +Sentence of Death on the Morrow; where he owned all, and who set him on +to do it. He own’d ’twas not Reward of Gain he did it for, but Hope he +should command at his Pleasure the Possession of his Mistress, the +Princess, who should deny him nothing, after having entrusted him with +so great a Secret; and that besides, she had elevated him with the +Promise of that glorious Reward, and had dazzled his young Heart with so +charming a Prospect, that blind and mad with Joy, he rushed forward to +gain the desired Prize, and thought on nothing but his coming Happiness: +That he saw too late the Follies of his presumptuous Flame, and cursed +the deluding Flatteries of the fair Hypocrite, who had soothed him to +his Undoing: That he was a miserable Victim to her Wickedness; and hoped +he should warn all young Men, by his Fall, to avoid the Dissimulation of +the deceiving Fair: That he hoped they would have Pity on his Youth, and +attribute his Crime to the subtle Persuasions alone of his Mistress the +Princess: And that since <i>Alcidiana</i> was +<span class = "pagenum">107</span> +not dead, they would grant him Mercy, and permit him to live to repent +of his grievous Crime, in some Part of the World, whither they might +banish him.</p> + +<p>He ended with Tears, that fell in abundance from his Eyes; and +immediately the Princess was apprehended, and brought to Prison, to the +same Prison where yet the poor young Father <i>Francisco</i> was +languishing, he having been from Week to Week reprieved, by the +Intercession of the Fathers; and possibly she there had Time to make +some Reflections.</p> + +<p>You may imagine <i>Tarquin</i> left no Means unessay’d, to prevent +the Imprisonment of the Princess, and the publick Shame and Infamy she +was likely to undergo in this Affair: But the whole City being +over-joy’d that she should be punished, as an Author of all this +Mischief, were generally bent against her, both Priests, Magistrates and +People; the whole Force of the Stream running that Way, she found no +more Favour than the meanest Criminal. The Prince therefore, when he saw +’twas impossible to rescue her from the Hands of Justice, suffer’d with +Grief unspeakable, what he could not prevent, and led her himself to the +Prison, follow’d by all his People, in as much State as if he had been +going to his Marriage; where, when she came, she was as well attended +and served as before, he never stirring one Moment from her.</p> + +<p>The next Day, she was tried in open and common Court; where she +appeared in Glory, led by <i>Tarquin</i>, and attended according to her +Quality: And she could not deny all the Page had alledged against her, +who was brought thither also in Chains; and after a great many +Circumstances, she was found Guilty, and both received Sentence; the +Page to be hanged till he was dead, on a Gibbet in the Market-Place; and +the Princess to stand under the Gibbet, with a Rope about her Neck, the +other End of which was to be <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged: usual form is ‘fasten’d’">fastned</ins> to the Gibbet where +the Page was hanging; and to have an Inscription, in large +<span class = "pagenum">108</span> +Characters, upon her Back and Breast, of the Cause why; where she was to +stand from ten in the Morning to twelve.</p> + +<p>This Sentence, the People with one Accord, believed too favourable +for so ill a Woman, whose Crimes deserved Death, equal to that of <i>Van +Brune</i>. Nevertheless, there were some who said, it was infinitely +more severe than Death it self.</p> + +<p>The following <i>Friday</i> was the Day of Execution, and one need +not tell of the Abundance of People, who were flocked together in the +Market-Place: And all the Windows were taken down, and filled with +Spectators, and the Tops of Houses; when at the Hour appointed, the +fatal Beauty appear’d. She was dress’d in a black Velvet Gown, with a +rich Row of Diamonds all down the fore Part of her Breast, and a great +Knot of Diamonds at the Peak behind; and a Petticoat of flower’d Gold, +very rich, and laced; with all Things else suitable. A Gentleman +carry’d her great Velvet Cushion before her, on which her Prayer-Book, +embroider’d, was laid; her Train was borne up by a Page, and the Prince +led her, bare; followed by his Footmen, Pages, and other Officers of his +House.</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the Place of Execution, the Cushion was laid on +the Ground, upon a <i>Portugal</i> Mat, spread there for that Purpose; +and the Princess stood on the Cushion, with her Prayer-Book in her Hand, +and a Priest by her Side; and was accordingly tied up to the Gibbet.</p> + +<p>She had not stood there ten Minutes, but she had the Mortification +(at least one would think it so to her) to see her sad Page, <i>Van +Brune</i>, approach, fair as an Angel, but languishing and pale. That +Sight moved all the Beholders with as much Pity, as that of the Princess +did with Disdain and Pleasure.</p> + +<p>He was dressed all in Mourning, and very fine Linen, bare-headed, +with his own Hair, the fairest that could be seen, hanging all in Curls +on his Back and Shoulders, very +<span class = "pagenum">109</span> +long. He had a Prayer-Book of black Velvet in his Hand, and behaved +himself with much Penitence and Devotion.</p> + +<p>When he came under the Gibbet, he seeing his Mistress in that +Condition, shew’d an infinite Concern, and his fair Face was cover’d +over with Blushes; and falling at her Feet, he humbly ask’d her Pardon +for having been the Occasion of so great an Infamy to her, by a weak +Confession, which the Fears of Youth, and Hopes of Life, had obliged him +to make, so greatly to her Dishonour; for indeed he wanted that manly +Strength, to bear the Efforts of dying, as he ought, in Silence, rather +than of commiting so great a Crime against his Duty, and Honour itself; +and that he could not die in Peace, unless she would forgive him. The +Princess only nodded her Head, and cried, <i>I do</i>—</p> + +<p>And after having spoken a little to his Father-Confessor, who was +with him, he chearfully mounted the Ladder, and in Sight of the Princess +he was turned off, while a loud Cry was heard thro’ all the +Market-Place, especially from the Fair Sex; he hanged there till the +Time the Princess was to depart; and then she was put into a rich +embroider’d Chair, and carry’d away, <i>Tarquin</i> going into his, for +he had all that Time stood supporting the Princess under the Gallows, +and was very weary. She was sent back, till her Releasement came, which +was that Night about seven o’Clock; and then she was conducted to her +own House in great State, with a Dozen White Wax Flambeaux about her +Chair.</p> + +<p>If the Guardian of <i>Alcidiana</i>, and her Friends, before were +impatient of having the Portion out of the Hands of these Extravagants, +it is not to be imagined, but they were now much more so; and the next +Day they sent an Officer, according to Law, to demand it, or to summon +the Prince to give Reasons why he would not pay it. The Officer received +for Answer, That the Money should be call’d in, and paid in such a Time, +setting a certain +<span class = "pagenum">110</span> +Time, which I have not been so curious as to retain, or put in my +Journal-Observations; but I am sure it was not long, as may be easily +imagin’d, for they every Moment suspected the Prince would pack up, and +be gone, some time or other, on the sudden; and for that Reason they +would not trust him without Bail, or two Officers to remain in his +House, to watch that nothing should be remov’d or touch’d. As for Bail, +or Security, he could give none; every one slunk their Heads out of the +Collar, when it came to that: So that he was oblig’d, at his own +Expence, to maintain Officers in his House.</p> + +<p>The Princess finding her self reduced to the last Extremity, and that +she must either produce the Value of a hundred thousand Crowns, or see +the Prince her Husband lodged for ever in a Prison, and all their Glory +vanish; and that it was impossible to fly, since guarded; she had +Recourse to an Extremity, worse than the Affair of <i>Van Brune</i>. And +in order to this, she first puts on a world of Sorrow and Concern, for +what she feared might arrive to the Prince: And indeed, if ever she shed +Tears which she did not dissemble, it was upon this Occasion. But here +she almost over-acted: She stirred not from her Bed, and refused to eat, +or sleep, or see the Light; so that the Day being shut out of her +Chamber, she lived by Wax-lights, and refus’d all Comfort and +Consolation.</p> + +<p>The Prince, all raving with Love, tender Compassion and Grief, never +stirred from her Bed-side, nor ceas’d to implore, that she would suffer +herself to live. But she, who was not now so passionately in Love with +<i>Tarquin</i>, as she was with the Prince; nor so fond of the Man as +his Titles, and of Glory; foresaw the total Ruin of the last, if not +prevented by avoiding the Payment of this great Sum; which could not +otherwise be, than by the Death of <i>Alcidiana</i>: And therefore, +without ceasing, she wept, and cry’d out, ‘She could not live, unless +<i>Alcidiana</i> died. This <i>Alcidiana</i> (<i>continued she</i>) who +has been the Author of my +<span class = "pagenum">111</span> +Shame; who has expos’d me under a Gibbet, in the Publick +Market-Place—Oh!—I am deaf to all Reason, blind to +natural Affection. I renounce her, I hate her as my mortal +Foe, my Stop to Glory, and the Finisher of my Days, e’er half my Race of +Life be run.’</p> + +<p>Then throwing her false, but snowy, charming Arms about the Neck her +Heart-breaking Lord, and Lover, who lay sighing, and listening by her +Side, he was charmed and bewitch’d into saying all Things that appeased +her; and lastly, told her, ‘<i>Alcidiana</i> should be no longer any +Obstacle to her Repose; but that, if she would look up, and cast her +Eyes of Sweetness and Love upon him, as heretofore; forget her Sorrow, +and redeem her lost Health; he would take what Measures she should +propose to dispatch this fatal Stop to her Happiness, out of the +Way.’</p> + +<p>These Words failed not to make her caress him in the most endearing +Manner that Love and Flattery could invent; and she kiss’d him to an +Oath, a solemn Oath, to perform what he had promised; and he vow’d +liberally. And she assumed in an Instant her Good-Humour, and suffer’d a +Supper to be prepared, and did eat; which in many Days before she had +not done: So obstinate and powerful was she in dissembling well.</p> + +<p>The next Thing to be consider’d was, which Way this Deed was to be +done; for they doubted not, but when it was done, all the World would +lay it upon the Princess, as done by her Command: But she urged, +Suspicion was no Proof; and that they never put to Death any one, but +when they had great and certain Evidence who were the Offenders. She was +sure of her own Constancy, that Racks and Tortures should never get the +Secret from her Breast; and if he were as confident on his Part, there +was no Danger. Yet this Preparation she made towards laying the Fact on +others, that she caused several Letters to be wrote from <i>Germany</i>, +as from the Relations of <i>Van Brune</i>, who threaten’d +<i>Alcidiana</i> with Death, for depriving their +<span class = "pagenum">112</span> +Kinsman (who was a Gentleman) of his Life, though he had not taken away +hers. And it was the Report of the Town, how this young Maid was +threaten’d. And indeed, the Death of the Page had so afflicted a great +many, that <i>Alcidiana</i> had procured her self abundance of Enemies +upon that Account, because she might have saved him if she had pleased; +but, on the contrary, she was a Spectator, and in full Health and +Vigour, at his Execution: And People were not so much concerned for her +at this Report, as they would have been.</p> + +<p>The Prince, who now had, by reasoning the Matter soberly with +<i>Miranda</i>, found it absolutely necessary to dispatch +<i>Alcidiana</i>, resolved himself, and with his own Hand, to execute +it; not daring to trust to any of his most favourite Servants, though he +had many, who possibly would have obey’d him; for they loved him as he +deserved, and so would all the World, had he not been so purely deluded +by this fair Enchantress. He therefore, as I said, resolved to keep this +great Secret to himself; and taking a Pistol, charged well with two +Bullets, he watch’d an Opportunity to shoot her as she should go out or +into her House, or Coach, some Evening.</p> + +<p>To this End he waited several Nights near her Lodgings, but still, +either she went not out, or when she return’d, she was so guarded with +Friends, her Lover, and Flambeaux, that he could not aim at her without +endangering the Life of some other. But one Night above the rest, upon a +<i>Sunday</i>, when he knew she would be at the Theatre, for she never +missed that Day seeing the Play, he waited at the Corner of the +Stadt-House, near the Theatre, with his Cloak cast over his Face, and a +black Periwig, all alone, with his Pistol ready cock’d; and remain’d not +very long but he saw her Kinsman’s Coach come along; ’twas almost dark, +Day was just shutting up her Beauties, and left such a Light to govern +the World, as serv’d only just to distinguish one Object from another, +and a convenient Help to +<span class = "pagenum">113</span> +Mischief. He saw alight out of the Coach only one young Lady, the Lover, +and then the destin’d Victim; which he (drawing near) knew rather by her +Tongue than Shape. The Lady ran into the Play-House, and left +<i>Alcidiana</i> to be conducted by her Lover into it: Who led her to +the Door, and went to give some Order to the Coachman; so that the Lover +was about twenty Yards from <i>Alcidiana</i>; when she stood the fairest +Mark in the World, on the Threshold of the Entrance of the Theatre, +there being many Coaches about the Door, so that hers could not come so +near. <i>Tarquin</i> was resolved not to lose so fair an Opportunity, +and advanc’d, but went behind the Coaches; and when he came over-against +the Door, through a great booted Velvet Coach, that stood between him +and her, he shot; and she having the Train of her Gown and Petticoat on +her Arm, in great Quantity, he missed her Body, and shot through her +Clothes, between her Arm and her Body. She, frighten’d to find something +hit her, and to see the Smoke, and hear the Report of the Pistol; +running in, cried, <i>I am shot, I am dead.</i></p> + +<p>This Noise quickly alarm’d her Lover; and all the Coachmen and +Footmen immediately ran, some one Way, and some another. One of ’em +seeing a Man haste away in a Cloak; he being a lusty, bold +<i>German</i>, stopped him; and drawing upon him, bad him stand, and +deliver his Pistol, or he would run him through.</p> + +<p><i>Tarquin</i> being surprised at the Boldness of this Fellow to +demand his Pistol, as if he positively knew him to be the Murderer (for +so he thought himself, since he believed <i>Alcidiana</i> dead) had so +much Presence of Mind as to consider, if he suffered himself to be +taken, he should poorly die a publick Death; and therefore resolv’d upon +one Mischief more, to secure himself from the first: And in the Moment +that the <i>German</i> bad him deliver his Pistol, he cried, <i>Though I +have no Pistol to deliver, I have a Sword to chastise thy +Insolence</i>. And throwing off his Cloak, and +<span class = "pagenum">114</span> +flinging his Pistol from him, he drew, and wounded, and disarmed the +Fellow.</p> + +<p>This Noise of Swords brought every body to the Place; and immediately +the Bruit ran, <i>The Murderer was taken, the Murderer was taken</i>; +Tho’ none knew which was he, nor as yet so much as the Cause of the +Quarrel between the two fighting Men; for it was now darker than before. +But at the Noise of the Murderer being taken, the Lover of +<i>Alcidiana</i>, who by this Time found his Lady unhurt, all but the +Trains of her Gown and Petticoat, came running to the Place, just as +<i>Tarquin</i> had disarm’d the <i>German</i>, and was ready to kill +him; when laying hold of his Arm, they arrested the Stroke, and redeemed +the Footman.</p> + +<p>They then demanded who this Stranger was, at whose Mercy the Fellow +lay; but the Prince, who now found himself venturing for his last Stake, +made no Reply; but with two Swords in his Hands went to fight his Way +through the Rabble; And tho’ there were above a hundred Persons, some +with Swords, others with long Whips, (as Coachmen) so invincible +was the Courage of this poor unfortunate Gentleman at that Time, that +all these were not able to seize him; but he made his Way through the +Ring that encompassed him, and ran away; but was, however, so closely +pursued, the Company still gathering as they ran, that toiled with +fighting, oppressed with Guilt, and Fear of being taken, he grew fainter +and fainter, and suffered himself, at last, to yield to his Pursuers, +who soon found him to be Prince <i>Tarquin</i> in Disguise: And they +carry’d him directly to Prison, being <i>Sunday</i>, to wait the coming +Day, to go before a Magistrate.</p> + +<p>In an Hour’s Time the whole fatal Adventure was carried all over the +City, and every one knew that <i>Tarquin</i> was the intended Murderer +of <i>Alcidiana</i>; and not one but had a real Sorrow and Compassion +for him. They heard how bravely he had defended himself, how many he had +wounded before he could be taken, and what numbers he +<span class = "pagenum">115</span> +had fought through: And even those that saw his Valour and Bravery, and +who had assisted at his being seiz’d, now repented from the Bottom of +their Hearts their having any Hand in the Ruin of so gallant a Man; +especially since they knew the Lady was not hurt. A thousand +Addresses were made to her, not to prosecute him; but her Lover, +a hot-headed Fellow, more fierce than brave, would by no Means be +pacified, but vowed to pursue him to the Scaffold.</p> + +<p>The <i>Monday</i> came, and the Prince being examined, confessed the +Matter of Fact, since there was no Harm done; believing a generous +Confession the best of his Game: But he was sent back to closer +Imprisonment, loaded with Irons, to expect the next Sessions. All his +Household-Goods were seiz’d, and all they could find, for the Use of +<i>Alcidiana</i>. And the Princess, all in Rage, tearing her Hair, was +carried to the same Prison, to behold the cruel Effects of her hellish +Designs.</p> + +<p>One need not tell here how sad and horrid this Meeting appear’d +between her Lord and her: Let it suffice, it was the most melancholy and +mortifying Object that ever Eyes beheld. On <i>Miranda’s</i> Part, ’twas +sometimes all Rage and Fire, and sometimes all Tears and Groans; but +still ’twas sad Love, and mournful Tenderness on his. Nor could all his +Sufferings, and the Prospect of Death itself, drive from his Soul one +Spark of that Fire the obstinate God had fatally kindled there: And in +the midst of all his Sighs, he would re-call himself, and +cry,—<i>I have <em>Miranda</em> still.</i></p> + +<p>He was eternally visited by his Friends and Acquaintance; and this +last Action of Bravery had got him more than all his former Conduct had +lost. The Fathers were perpetually with him; and all join’d with one +common Voice in this, That he ought to abandon a Woman so wicked as the +Princess; and that however Fate dealt with him, he could not shew +himself a true Penitent, while he laid the Author of so much Evil in his +Bosom: That Heaven would never bless him, till he had renounced her: +<span class = "pagenum">116</span> +And on such Conditions he would find those that would employ their +utmost Interest to save his Life, who else would not stir in this +Affair. But he was so deaf to all, that he could not so much as +dissemble a Repentance for having married her.</p> + +<p>He lay a long Time in Prison, and all that Time the poor Father +<i>Francisco</i> remained there also: And the good Fathers who daily +visited these two amorous Prisoners, the Prince and Princess; and who +found, by the Management of Matters, it would go very hard with +<i>Tarquin</i>, entertained ’em often with holy Matters relating to the +Life <ins class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘to to’">to</ins> +come; from which, before his Trial, he gathered what his Stars had +appointed, and that he was destin’d to die.</p> + +<p>This gave an unspeakable Torment to the now repenting Beauty, who had +reduced him to it; and she began to appear with a more solid Grief: +Which being perceived by the good Fathers, they resolved to attack her +on the yielding Side; and after some Discourse upon the Judgment for +Sin, they came to reflect on the Business of Father <i>Francisco</i>; +and told her, she had never thriven since her accusing of that Father, +and laid it very home to her Conscience; assuring her that they would do +their utmost in her Service, if she would confess that secret Sin to all +the World, so that she might atone for the Crime, by the saving that +good Man. At first she seemed inclined to yield; but Shame of being her +own Detector, in so vile a Matter, recalled her Goodness, and she +faintly persisted in it.</p> + +<p>At the End of six Months, Prince <i>Tarquin</i> was called to his +Tryal; where I will pass over the Circumstances, which are only what is +usual in such criminal Cases, and tell you, that he being found guilty +of the Intent of killing <i>Alcidiana</i>, was condemned to lose his +Head in the Market-Place, and the Princess to be banished her +Country.</p> + +<p>After Sentence pronounced, to the real Grief of all the Spectators, +he was carry’d back to Prison, and now the +<span class = "pagenum">117</span> +Fathers attack her anew; and she, whose Griefs daily encreased, with a +Languishment that brought her very near her Grave, at last confess’d all +her Life, all the Lewdness of her Practices with several Princes and +great Men, besides her Lusts with People that served her, and others in +mean Capacity: And lastly, the whole Truth of the young Friar; and how +she had drawn the Page, and the Prince her Husband, to this design’d +Murder of her Sister. This she signed with her Hand, in the Presence of +the Prince, her Husband, and several Holy Men who were present. Which +being signify’d to the Magistrates, the Friar was immediately deliver’d +from his Irons (where he had languished more than two whole Years) in +great Triumph, with much Honour, and lives a most exemplary pious Life, +as he did before; for he is now living in <i>Antwerp</i>.</p> + +<p>After the Condemnation of these two unfortunate Persons, who begot +such different Sentiments in the Minds of the People (the Prince, all +the Compassion and Pity imaginable; and the Princess, all the Contempt +and Despite;) they languished almost six Months longer in Prison; so +great an Interest there was made, in order to the saving his Life, by +all the Men of the Robe. On the other side, the Princes, and great Men +of all Nations, who were at the Court of <i>Brussels</i>, who bore a +secret Revenge in their Hearts against a Man who had, as they pretended, +set up a false Title, only to take Place of them; who indeed was but a +Merchant’s Son of <i>Holland</i>, as they said; so incens’d them against +him, that they were too hard at Court for the Church-men. However, this +Dispute gave the Prince his Life some Months longer than was expected; +which gave him also some Hope, that a Reprieve for ninety Years would +have been granted, as was desired. Nay, Father <i>Francisco</i> so +interested himself in this Concern, that he writ to his Father, and +several Princes of <i>Germany</i>, with whom the Marquis <i>Castel +Roderigo</i> was well acquainted, to intercede with him for the saving +of <i>Tarquin</i>; since +<span class = "pagenum">118</span> +’twas more by his Persuasions, than those of all who attacked her, that +made <i>Miranda</i> confess the Truth of her Affair with him. But at the +End of six Months, when all Applications were found fruitless and vain, +the Prince receiv’d News, that in two Days he was to die, as his +Sentence had been before pronounced, and for which he prepared himself +with all Chearfulness.</p> + +<p>On the following <i>Friday</i>, as soon as it was light, all People +of any Condition came to take their Leaves of him; and none departed +with dry Eyes, or Hearts unconcern’d to the last Degree: For +<i>Tarquin</i>, when he found his Fate inevitable bore it with a +Fortitude that shewed no Signs of Regret; but address’d himself to all +about him with the same chearful, modest, and great Air, he was wont to +do in his most flourishing Fortune. His Valet was dressing him all the +Morning, so many Interruptions they had by Visitors; and he was all in +Mourning, and so were all his Followers; for even to the last he kept up +his Grandeur, to the Amazement of all People. And indeed, he was so +passionately belov’d by them, that those he had dismiss’d, serv’d him +voluntarily, and would not be persuaded to abandon him while he +liv’d.</p> + +<p>The Princess was also dress’d in Mourning, and her two Women; and +notwith­standing the unheard-of Lewdness and Villanies she had +confess’d of her self, the Prince still ador’d her; for she had still +those Charms that made him first do so; nor, to his last Moment, could +he be brought to wish, that he had never seen her; but on the contrary, +as a Man yet vainly proud of his Fetters, he said, ‘All the Satisfaction +this short Moment of Life could afford him, was, that he died in +endeavouring to serve <i>Miranda</i>, his adorable Princess.’</p> + +<p>After he had taken Leave of all, who thought it necessary to leave +him to himself for some Time, he retir’d with his Confessor; where they +were about an Hour in Prayer, all the Ceremonies of Devotion that were +fit to +<span class = "pagenum">119</span> +be done, being already past. At last the Bell toll’d, and he was to take +Leave of the Princess, as his last Work of Life, and the most hard he +had to accomplish. He threw himself at her Feet, and gazing on her as +she sat more dead than alive, overwhelm’d with silent Grief, they both +remain’d some Moments speechless; and then, as if one rising Tide of +Tears had supply’d both their Eyes, it burst out in Streams at the same +Instant: and when his Sighs gave Way, he utter’d a thousand Farewels, so +soft, so passionate, and moving, that all who were by were extremely +touch’d with it, and said, <i>That nothing could be seen more deplorable +and melancholy</i>. A thousand Times they bad Farewel, and still some +tender Look, or Word, would prevent his going; then embrace, and bid +Farewel again. A thousand Times she ask’d his Pardon for being the +Occasion of that fatal Separation; a thousand Times assuring him, +she would follow him, for she could not live without him. And Heaven +knows when their soft and sad Caresses would have ended, had not the +Officers assur’d him ’twas Time to mount the Scaffold. At which Words +the Princess fell fainting in the Arms of her Woman, and they led +<i>Tarquin</i> out of Prison.</p> + +<p>When he came to the Market-Place, whither he walked on Foot, follow’d +by his own Domesticks, and some bearing a black Velvet Coffin with +Silver Hinges; the Head’s-man before him with his fatal Scimiter drawn, +his Confessor by his Side, and many Gentlemen and Church-men, with +Father <i>Francisco</i> attending him, the People showring Millions of +Blessings on him, and beholding him with weeping Eyes, he mounted the +Scaffold; which was strewed with some Saw-dust, about the Place where he +was to kneel, to receive the Blood: For they behead People kneeling, and +with the Back-Stroak of a Scimiter; and not lying on a Block, and with +an Axe, as we in <i>England</i>. The Scaffold had a low Rail about it, +that every body might more conveniently see. This was hung with +<span class = "pagenum">120</span> +black, and all that State that such a Death could have, was here in most +decent Order.</p> + +<p>He did not say much upon the Scaffold: The Sum of what he said to his +Friends was, to be kind, and take Care of the poor Penitent his Wife: To +others, recommending his honest and generous Servants, whose Fidelity +was so well known and commended, that they were soon promised +Preferment. He was some time in Prayer, and a very short time in +speaking to his Confessor; then he turned to the Head’s-man, and desired +him to do his Office well, and gave him twenty <i>Louis d’Ors</i>; and +undressing himself with the Help of his Valet and Page, he pull’d off +his Coat, and had underneath a white Sattin Waistcoat: He took off his +Periwig, and put on a white Sattin Cap, with a Holland one done with +Point under it, which he pulled over his Eyes; then took a chearful +Leave of all, and kneel’d down, and said, ‘When he lifted up his Hands +the third Time, the Head’s-man should do his Office.’ Which accordingly +was done, and the Head’s-man gave him his last Stroke, and the Prince +fell on the Scaffold. The People with one common Voice, as if it had +been but one entire one, pray’d for his Soul; and Murmurs of Sighs were +heard from the whole Multitude, who scrambled for some of the bloody +Saw-dust, to keep for his Memory.</p> + +<p>The Head’s-man going to take up the Head, as the Manner is, to shew +it to the People, he found he had not struck it off, and that the Body +stirr’d; with that he stepped to an Engine, which they always carry with +’em, to force those who may be refractory; thinking, as he said, to have +twisted the Head from the Shoulders, conceiving it to hang but by a +small Matter of Flesh. Tho’ ’twas an odd Shift of the Fellow’s, yet +’twas done, and the best Shift he could suddenly propose. The Margrave, +and another Officer, old Men, were on the Scaffold, with some of the +Prince’s Friends, and Servants; who seeing the Head’s-man put the Engine +about the Neck of the Prince, +<span class = "pagenum">121</span> +began to call out, and the People made a great Noise. The Prince, who +found himself yet alive; or rather, who was past thinking but had some +Sense of Feeling left, when the Head’s-man took him up, and set his Back +against the Rail, and clapp’d the Engine about his Neck, got his two +Thumbs between the Rope and his Neck, feeling himself press’d there; and +struggling between Life and Death, and bending himself over the Rail +backward, while the Head’s-man pulled forward, he threw himself quite +over the Rail, by Chance, and not Design, and fell upon the Heads and +Shoulders of the People, who were crying out with amazing Shouts of Joy. +The Head’s-man leap’d after him, but the Rabble had lik’d to have pull’d +him to Pieces: All the City was in an Uproar, but none knew what the +Matter was, but those who bore the Body of the Prince, whom they found +yet living; but how, or by what strange Miracle preserv’d, they knew +not, nor did examine; but with one Accord, as if the whole Crowd had +been one Body, and had had but one Motion, they bore the Prince on their +Heads about a hundred Yards from the Scaffold, where there is a +Monastery of Jesuits; and there they secur’d him. All this was done, his +beheading, his falling, and his being secur’d, almost in a Moment’s +Time; the People rejoiceing, as at some extraordinary Victory won. One +of the Officers being, as I said, an old timorous Man, was so frighten’d +at the Accident, the Bustle, the Noise, and the Confusion, of which he +was wholly ignorant, that he dy’d with Amazement and Fear; and the other +was fain to be let blood.</p> + +<p>The Officers of Justice went to demand the Prisoner, but they +demanded in vain; the Jesuits had now a Right to protect him, and would +do so. All his <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged: usual form is ‘over-joy’d’ with hyphen">overjoy’d</ins> Friends went to +see in what Condition he was, and all of Quality found Admittance: They +saw him in Bed, going to be dress’d by the most skilful Surgeons, who +yet could not assure him of Life. They desired no body should speak +<span class = "pagenum">122</span> +to him, or ask him any Questions. They found that the Head’s-man had +struck him too low, and had cut him into the Shoulder-bone. A very +great Wound, you may be sure; for the Sword, in such Executions, carries +an extreme Force: However, so great Care was taken on all Sides, and so +greatly the Fathers were concern’d for him, that they found an +Amendment, and Hopes of a good Effect of their incomparable Charity and +Goodness.</p> + +<p>At last, when he was permitted to speak, the first News he ask’d was +after the Princess. And his Friends were very much afflicted to find, +that all his Loss of Blood had not quenched that Flame, not let out that +which made him still love that bad Woman. He was sollicited daily to +think no more of her: And all her Crimes are laid so open to him, and so +shamefully represented; and on the other Side, his Virtues so admir’d; +and which, they said, would have been eternally celebrated, but for his +Folly with this infamous Creature; that at last, by assuring him of all +their Assistance if he abandon’d her; and to renounce him, and deliver +him up, if he did not; they wrought so far upon him, as to promise, he +would suffer her to go alone into Banishment, and would not follow her, +or live with her any more. But alas! this was but his Gratitude that +compell’d this Complaisance, for in his Heart he resolv’d never to +abandon her; nor was he able to live, and think of doing it: However, +his Reason assur’d him, he could not do a Deed more justifiable, and one +that would regain his Fame sooner.</p> + +<p>His Friends ask’d him some Questions concerning his Escape; and since +he was not beheaded, but only wounded, why he did not immediately rise +up? But he replied, he was so absolutely prepossessed, that at the third +lifting up his Hands he should receive the Stroke of Death, that at the +same Instant the Sword touch’d him, he had no Sense; nay, not even of +Pain, so absolutely dead he was with Imagination; and knew not that he +stirr’d, as the Head’s-man +<span class = "pagenum">123</span> +found he did; nor did he remember any Thing, from the lifting up of his +Hands, to his fall; and then awaken’d, as out of a Dream, or rather a +Moment’s Sleep without Dream, he found he liv’d, and wonder’d what was +arriv’d to him, or how he came to live; having not, as yet, any Sense of +his Wound, tho’ so terrible an one.</p> + +<p>After this, <i>Alcidiana</i>, who was extremely afflicted for having +been the Prosecutor of this great Man; who, bating this last Design +against her, which she knew was at the Instigation of her Sister, had +oblig’d her with all the Civility imaginable; now sought all Means +possible of getting his Pardon, and that of her Sister; tho’ of an +hundred thousand Crowns, which she should have paid her, she could get +but ten thousand; which was from the Sale of her rich Beds, and some +other Furniture. So that the young Count, who before should have marry’d +her, now went off for want of Fortune; and a young Merchant (perhaps the +best of the two) was the Man to whom she was destin’d.</p> + +<p>At last, by great Intercession, both their Pardons were obtain’d; and +the Prince, who would be no more seen in a Place that had prov’d every +way so fatal to him, left <i>Flanders</i>, promising never to live with +the Fair Hypocrite more; but e’er he departed, he wrote her a Letter, +wherein he order’d her, in a little Time, to follow him into +<i>Holland</i>; and left a Bill of Exchange with one of his trusty +Servants, whom he had left to wait upon her, for Money for her +Accommodation; so that she was now reduced to one Woman, one Page, and +this Gentleman. The Prince, in this Time of his Imprisonment, had +several Bills of great Sums from his Father, who was exceeding rich, and +this all the Children he had in the World, and whom he tenderly +loved.</p> + +<p>As soon as <i>Miranda</i> was come into <i>Holland</i>, she was +welcom’d with all imaginable Respect and Endearment by the old Father; +who was impos’d upon so, as that he +<span class = "pagenum">124</span> +knew not she was the fatal Occasion of all these Disasters to his Son; +but rather look’d on her as a Woman, who had brought him an hundred and +fifty thousand Crowns, which his Misfortunes had consum’d. But, above +all, she was receiv’d by <i>Tarquin</i> with a Joy unspeakable; who, +after some Time, to redeem his Credit, and gain himself a new Fame, put +himself into the <i>French</i> Army, where he did Wonders; and after +three Campaigns, his Father dying, he return’d home, and retir’d to a +Country-House; where, with his Princess, he liv’d as a private +Gentleman, in all the Tranquillity of a Man of good Fortune. They say +<i>Miranda</i> has been very penitent for her Life past, and gives +Heaven the Glory for having given her these Afflictions that have +reclaim’d her, and brought her to as perfect a State of Happiness, as +this troublesome World, can afford.</p> + +<p>Since I began this Relation, I heard that Prince <i>Tarquin</i>, dy’d +about three Quarters of a Year ago.</p> + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "jilt_notes" id = "jilt_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Fair Jilt.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "jilt_comm1" id = "jilt_comm1" href = "#jilt_dedic">p. 70</a> +<i>To Henry Pain, Esq.</i> Henry Neville Payne, politician and author, +was a thorough Tory and an ardent partisan of James II. Downes ascribes +to him three plays: <i>The Fatal Jealousy</i>, produced at Dorset Garden +in the winter of 1672, a good, if somewhat vehement, tragedy (4to, +1673); <i>Morning Ramble; or, Town Humours</i>, produced at the same +theatre in 1673 (4to, 1673), which, though lacking in plot and quick +incident, is far from a bad comedy; and <i>The Siege of +Constantinople</i>, acted by the Duke’s company in 1674 (4to, 1675), +a tragedy which very sharply lashes Shaftesbury as the Chancellor, +especially in Act II, when Lorenzo, upon his patron designing a frolic, +says:—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p>My Lord, you know your old house, Mother Somelie’s,</p> +<p>You know she always fits you with fresh girls.</p> +</div> + +<p>Mother Somelie is, of course, the notorious Mother Mosely.</p> + +<p>Henry Payne wrote several loyal pamphlets, and after the Revolution +he became, according to Burnet, ‘the most active and determined of all +King James’ agents.’ He is said to have been the chief instigator of the +Montgomery plot in 1690, and whilst in Scotland was arrested. 10 and 11 +December of that year he was severely tortured under a special order of +William III, but nothing could be extracted from him. This is the last +occasion on which torture was applied in Scotland. After being treated +with harshest cruelty by William III, Payne was finally released from +prison in December, 1700, or January, 1701, as the Duke of Queensbury, +recognizing the serious illegalities of the whole business, urgently +advised his liberation. Payne died in 1710. As Macaulay consistently +confounds him with a certain Edward Neville, S.J., the statements of +this historian with reference to Henry Neville Payne must be entirely +disregarded.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "jilt_comm2" id = "jilt_comm2" href = "#jilt_main">p. 72</a> +<i>The Fair Jilt.</i> Editio princeps, ‘London. Printed by <i>R. +Holt</i> for <i>Will. Canning</i>, at his Shop in the +<i>Temple-Cloysters</i>’ (1688), ‘Licensed 17 April, 1688. <i>Ric. +Pocock</i>’, has as title: <i>The Fair Jilt; or, The History of Prince +Tarquin and Miranda</i>. As half-title it prints: <i>The Fair Hypocrite; +or, The Amours of Prince Tarquin and Miranda</i>. All subsequent +editions, however, give: <i>The Fair Jilt; or, The Amours of Prince +Tarquin and Miranda</i>. The Dedication only occurs in the first +edition.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "jilt_comm3" id = "jilt_comm3" href = "#jilt_commtag3">p. +73</a> +<i>Scrutore.</i> Escritoire, cf. Sir T. Herbert, <i>Trav.</i> (1677): +‘There they sell . . . Scrutores or Cabinets of Mother of +Pearl.’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "jilt_comm4" id = "jilt_comm4" href = "#jilt_commtag4">p. +75</a> +<i>Canonesses, Begines, Quests, Swart-Sisters and Jesuitesses.</i> +<i>Canonesses</i> are very ancient in history. The most important +Congregations are the Sepulchrines or Canonesses of the Holy Sepulchre, +and the Lateran Canonesses. There was an old community of French +Hospitaller +<span class = "pagenum">520</span> +Canonesses of Saint-Esprit. Thomassin tells us that the Béguines were +canonesses, and that their name is derived from S. Begghe +(<i>ob.</i> 689), who founded the Canonesses of Andenne. There are also +Chapters of secular canonesses, nearly all Benedictine in origin. Many +of these only admitted ladies of the highest rank. The French Revolution +swept away a great number of these institutions, and some were +suppressed by Joseph II of Austria. Premonstratensian (white) Canonesses +were common in Belgium.</p> + +<p><i>Begines.</i> Either founded by S. Begghe, or their name is derived +from Lambert de Bègue, a priest of Liège, in 1177. Some place their +foundation at the beginning of the eleventh century in the Netherlands +or Germany. After three years women who are enrolled are entitled to a +little house. No vows are taken, but they assist in choir thrice daily. +There are several hundreds at Ghent, and the Béguinage (ten Wijngaarde) +of Bruges is famous.</p> + +<p><i>Quests.</i> Quêteuses. Extern Sisters, Poor Clares and Colettines; +Lay Sisters, Dominicanesses, who go out and beg for the community. ‘To +quest’ is to go alms-begging. The Sisters of Charity are of later +foundation. cf. Translation, D’Emilliane’s <i>Frauds of Romish Monks</i> +(1691): ‘The Farmer [of Purgatory Money] sends some of his Emissaries +into the Fields to carry on the Quest there for the said Souls’; and +<i>Earthquake . . . Peru</i>, iii, 303 (1748): ‘If the Friars +go into the Country a questing for their Monastery.’</p> + +<p><i>Swart-Sisters.</i> Black Nuns. Dominicanesses, a feature of whose +dresses is the cappa, a large black cloak and hood, worn from All +Saints’ Day till the ‘Gloria’ on Easter Eve, and on all great +solemnities.</p> + +<p><i>Jesuitesses.</i> A common misnomer for the original Congregation +founded by Mary Ward (<i>ob.</i> 1645), and named by her ‘The Institute +of Mary’. It was not until 1703 that they were fully approved by +Clement XI.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "jilt_comm5" id = "jilt_comm5" href = "#jilt_commtag5">p. +78</a> +<i>Cordeliers.</i> Observant Franciscans, who follow the strict Rule of +Poverty and observe all the fasts and austerities of the Order. This +name was first given them in France, where later they were known as +Recollects.</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">125</span> +<a name = "oroonoko" id = "oroonoko"> </a> + + +<h3>OROONOKO; OR<br> +THE ROYAL SLAVE.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">127</span> + +<h4><a name = "oroonoko_intro" id = "oroonoko_intro"> +INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">The</span> tale of <i>Oroonoko, the Royal +Slave</i> is indisputedly Mrs. Behn’s masterpiece in prose. Its +originality and power have singled it out for a permanence and +popularity none of her other works attained. It is vivid, realistic, +pregnant with pathos, beauty, and truth, and not only has it so +impressed itself upon the readers of more than two centuries, but +further, it surely struck a new note in English literature and one which +was re-echoed far and wide. It has been said that ‘<i>Oroonoko</i> is +the first emancipation novel’, and there is no little acumen in this +remark. Certainly we may absolve Mrs. Behn from having directly written +with a purpose such as animated Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe’s <i>Uncle +Tom’s Cabin</i>; but none the less her sympathy with the oppressed +blacks, her deep emotions of pity for outraged humanity, her anger at +the cruelties of the slave-driver aye ready with knout or knife, are +manifest in every line. Beyond the intense interest of the pure +narrative we have passages of a rhythm that is lyric, exquisitely +descriptive of the picturesque tropical scenery and exotic vegetations, +fragrant and luxuriant; there are intimate accounts of adventuring and +primitive life; there are personal touches which lend a colour only +personal touches can, as <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged">Aphara</ins> tells her prose-epic of her Superman, +Cæsar the slave, Oroonoko the prince.</p> + +<p>It is not difficult to trace the influence of <i>Oroonoko</i>. We can +see it in many an English author; in Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, in +Chateaubriand. Her idyllic romance has inspired writers who perhaps but +dimly remember even her name and her genius.</p> + +<p>It was often reprinted separately from the rest. There is a little +12mo <i>Oroonoko</i>, ‘the ninth edition corrected’, published at +Doncaster, 1759, ‘for C. Plummer’, which is rarely seen save in a +torn and well-thumbed state.<a class = "tag" name = "tag_oroonoko_1" id += "tag_oroonoko_1" href = "#note_oroonoko_1">1</a></p> + +<p>In 1777 the sentimental and highly proper Mrs. Elizabeth Griffith +included <i>Oroonoko</i> in her three volume <i>Collection of Novels +selected and revised.</i> <i>Oroonoko</i>, ‘written originally by Mrs. +Behn and revised by Mrs. Griffith’<a class = "tag" name = +"tag_oroonoko_2" id = "tag_oroonoko_2" href = "#note_oroonoko_2">2</a>, +was also issued separately, ‘price sixpence’<a class = "tag" name = +"tag_oroonoko_3" id = "tag_oroonoko_3" href = "#note_oroonoko_3">3</a>, +in 1800, frontispieced by a very crude picture of a black-a-moor about +to attack a tiger.</p> + +<p>As early as 1709 we find <i>Lebens und Liebes-Geschichte des +Königlichen Sclaven Oroonoko in West-Indien</i>, a German +translation published at Hamburg, with a portrait of ‘Die Sinnreiche +Engelländerin Mrs. Afra Behn.’</p> + +<p>In 1745 <i>Oroonoko</i> was ‘traduit de l’Anglois de Madame Behn,’ +with the motto from Lucan ‘Quo fata trahunt virtus secura sequetur.’ +There is a rhymed dedication ‘A Madame La M. P. D’l +. . .’ (35 lines), signed D. L.****, i.e., +Pierre-Antoine de la Place, a fecund but mediocre writer of the +eighteenth century (1707-93), who also translated, <i>Venice +Preserv’d</i>, <i>The Fatal Marriage</i>, <i>Tom Jones</i>, and other +English masterpieces. There is +<span class = "pagenum">128</span> +another edition of de la Place’s version with fine plates engraved by +C. Baron after Marillier, Londres, 1769.</p> + +<p>In 1696 Southerne’s great tragedy, founded upon Mrs. Behn’s novel, +was produced at Drury Lane. Oroonoko was created by Verbruggen, Powell +acted Aboan, and the beautiful Mrs. Rogers Imoinda. The play has some +magnificent passages, and long kept the stage. Southerne had further +added an excellent comic underplot, full of humour and the truest <i>vis +comica</i>. It is perhaps worth noting that the intrigues of Lucy and +Charlotte and the Lackitt <i>ménage</i> were dished up as a short +slap-bang farce by themselves with, curiously enough, two or three +scenes <i>in extenso</i> from Fletcher’s <i>Monsieur Thomas</i> (iii, +<span class = "smallroman">III</span>, and v, <span class = +"smallroman">II</span>). This hotch potch entitled <i>The Sexes +Mis-match’d; or, A New Way to get a Husband</i> is printed in +<i>The Strollers’ Pacquet open’d</i>. (12mo, 1741.) On 1 December, +1759, there was brought out at Drury Lane a most insipid alteration of +<i>Oroonoko</i> by Dr. Hawkesworth, who omitted all Southerne’s lighter +fare and inserted serious nonsense of his own. Garrick was the Oroonoko +and Mrs. Cibber Imoinda. Although Hawkesworth’s version was not +tolerated, the underplot was none the less pruned in later productions +to such an extent that it perforce lost nearly all its pristine wit and +fun. There is another adaption of Southerne: ‘<i>Oroonoko</i> altered +from the original play . . . to which the editor has added +near six hundred lines in place of the comic scenes, together with an +addition of two new characters, intended for one of the theatres.’ (8vo, +1760.) The two new characters are Maria, sister to the +Lieutenant-Governor and contracted to Blandford, and one Heartwell; both +thoroughly tiresome individuals. In the same year Frank Gentleman, +a provincial actor, produced his idea of <i>Oroonoko</i> ‘as it was +acted at Edinburgh.’ (12mo, 1760.) There is yet a fourth bastard: <i>The +Prince of Angola</i>, by one J. Ferriar, ‘a tragedy altered +from the play of <i>Oroonoko</i> and adapted to the circumstances of the +present times.’<a class = "tag" name = "tag_oroonoko_4" id = +"tag_oroonoko_4" href = "#note_oroonoko_4">4</a> (Manchester, 1788.) It +must be confessed that all this tinkering with an original, which does +not require from any point of view the slightest alteration or omission, +is most uncalled for, crude, and unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>In 1698 William Walker, a lad nineteen years old, the son of a +wealthy Barbadoes planter, wrote in three weeks a tragedy entitled +<i>Victorious Love</i> (4to, 1698), which is confessedly a close +imitation of Southerne’s theme. It was produced at Drury Lane in June, +1698, with the author himself as Dafila, a youth, and young Mrs. +Cross as the heroine Zaraida, ‘an European Shipwrack’d an Infant at +Gualata’. Possibly Verbruggen acted Barnagasso, the captive king who +corresponds to Oroonoko. The scene is laid in the Banze, or Palace of +Tombut, whose Emperor, Jamoan, is Barnagasso’s rival in Zaraida’s love. +There is a villain, Zanhaga, who after various more or less successful +iniquities, poisons the Emperor; whereon hero and heroine are happily +united. <i>Victorious Love</i> is far from being entirely a bad play; it +is, however, very reminiscent of the heroic tragedies of two decades +before.</p> + +<p>Southerne’s <i>Oroonoko</i> was (with some alterations) translated +into German. This version is prose and probably either the work of +W. H. von Dalberg or von Eisenthal. It has little merit, but proved +popular and was printed in 1789 with a somewhat grotesque frontispiece +of Oroonoko and Imoinda, both of whom are black ‘as pitch or as the +cole’.</p> + +<div class = "footnote"> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_oroonoko_1" id = "note_oroonoko_1" href += "#tag_oroonoko_1">1</a> +There were also many chap-books on similar themes which enjoyed no small +popularity, e.g., <i>The Royal African; or, The Memoirs of the Young +Prince of Annamaboe</i> (circa 1750), the romantic narrative of a negro +prince, who became a slave in Barbadoes, from whence he was redeemed and +brought to England.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_oroonoko_2" id = "note_oroonoko_2" href += "#tag_oroonoko_2">2</a> +Mis-spelt ‘Griffiths’ in the 1800 edition.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_oroonoko_3" id = "note_oroonoko_3" href += "#tag_oroonoko_3">3</a> +There was ‘a superior edition on a fine wove paper, Hot-pressed, with +Proof Impressions of the Plates. Price only Nine-pence.’</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_oroonoko_4" id = "note_oroonoko_4" href += "#tag_oroonoko_4">4</a> +The Agitation for the Abolition of the Slave Trade.</p> +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">[509]</span> + +<h4><a class = "comm" name = "oroonoko_dedic" id = "oroonoko_dedic" href += "#app_comm1"> +EPISTLE DEDICATORY.</a></h4> + +<h6>TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD MAITLAND.</h6> + +<p class = "mynote"> +The Epistle Dedicatory was printed as an Appendix; see Note.</p> + +<p>My Lord,</p> + +<p>Since the World is grown so Nice and Critical upon Dedications, and +will Needs be Judging the Book by the Wit of the Patron; we ought, with +a great deal of Circumspection to chuse a Person against whom there can +be no Exception; and whose Wit and Worth truly Merits all that one is +capable of saying upon that Occasion.</p> + +<p>The most part of Dedications are charg’d with Flattery; and if the +World knows a Man has some Vices, they will not allow one to speak of +his Virtues. This, My Lord, is for want of thinking Rightly; if Men +wou’d consider with Reason, they wou’d have another sort of Opinion, and +Esteem of Dedications; and wou’d believe almost every Great Man has +enough to make him Worthy of all that can be said of him there. My Lord, +a Picture-drawer, when he intends to make a good Picture, essays +the Face many Ways, and in many Lights, before he begins; that he may +chuse from the several turns of it, which is most Agreeable and gives it +the best Grace; and if there be a Scar, an ungrateful Mole, or any +little Defect, they leave it out; and yet make the Picture extreamly +like: But he who has the good Fortune to draw a Face that is exactly +Charming in all its Parts and Features, what Colours or Agreements can +be added to make it Finer? All that he can give is but its due; and +Glories in a Piece whose Original alone gives it its Perfection. An ill +Hand may diminish, but a good Hand cannot augment its Beauty. +A Poet is a Painter in his way; he draws to the Life, but in +another kind; we draw the Nobler part, the Soul and Mind; the Pictures +of the Pen shall out-last those of the Pencil, and even Worlds +themselves. ’Tis a short Chronicle of those Lives that possibly wou’d be +forgotten by other Historians, or lye neglected there, however deserving +an immortal Fame; for Men of eminent Parts are as Exemplary as even +Monarchs themselves; and Virtue is a noble Lesson to be learn’d, and +’tis by Comparison we can Judge and Chuse. ’Tis by such illustrious +Presidents as your Lordship the World can be Better’d and +<span class = "pagenum">[510]</span> +Refin’d; when a great part of the lazy Nobility shall, with Shame, +behold the admirable Accomplishments of a Man so Great, and so +Young.</p> + +<p>Your Lordship has Read innumerable Volumes of Men and Books, not +Vainly for the gust of Novelty, but Knowledge, excellent Knowledge: Like +the industrious Bee, from every Flower you return Laden with the +precious Dew, which you are sure to turn to the Publick Good. You hoard +no one Reflection, but lay it all out in the Glorious Service of your +Religion and Country; to both which you are a useful and necessary +Honour: They both want such Supporters; and ’tis only Men of so elevated +Parts, and fine Knowledge; such noble Principles of Loyalty and Religion +this Nation Sighs for. Where shall we find a Man so Young, like St. +Augustine, in the midst of all his Youth and Gaiety, Teaching the World +Divine Precepts, true Notions of Faith, and Excellent Morality, and, at +the same time be also a perfect Pattern of all that accomplish a Great +Man? You have, My Lord, all that refin’d Wit that Charms, and the +Affability that Obliges; a Generosity that gives a Lustre to your +Nobility; that Hospitality, and Greatness of Mind that ingages the +World; and that admirable Conduct, that so well Instructs it. Our Nation +ought to regret and bemoan their Misfortunes, for not being able to +claim the Honour of the Birth of a Man who is so fit to serve his +Majesty, and his Kingdoms in all Great and Publick Affairs; And to the +Glory of your Nation, be it spoken, it produces more considerable Men, +for all fine Sence, Wit, Wisdom, Breeding and Generosity (for the +generality of the Nobility) than all other Nations can Boast; and the +Fruitfulness of your Virtues sufficiently make amends for the Barrenness +of your Soil: Which however cannot be incommode to your Lordship; since +your Quality and the Veneration that the Commonalty naturally pay their +Lords creates a flowing Plenty there . . . that makes you +Happy. And to compleat your Happiness, my Lord, Heaven has blest you +with a Lady, to whom it has given all the Graces, Beauties, and Virtues +of her Sex; all the Youth, Sweetness of Nature, of a most illustrious +Family; and who is a most rare Example to all Wives of Quality, for her +eminent Piety, Easiness, and Condescention; and as absolutely merits +Respect from all the World as she does that Passion and Resignation she +receives from your Lordship; and which is, on her part, with so much +Tenderness return’d. Methinks your tranquil Lives are an Image of the +new Made and Beautiful Pair in Paradise: And ’tis the Prayers and Wishes +of all, who have the Honour to know you, that it may Eternally so +continue with Additions of all the Blessings this World can give +you.</p> + +<p>My Lord, the Obligations I have to some of the Great Men of your +Nation, particularly to your Lordship, gives me an Ambition of making my +Acknowledgements by all the Opportunities I can; and such humble Fruits +<span class = "pagenum">[511]</span> +as my Industry produces I lay at your Lordship’s Feet. This is a true +Story, of a Man Gallant enough to merit your Protection, and, had he +always been so Fortunate, he had not made so Inglorious an end: The +Royal Slave I had the Honour to know in my Travels to the other World; +and though I had none above me in that Country yet I wanted power to +preserve this Great Man. If there be anything that seems Romantick I +beseech your Lordship to consider these Countries do, in all things, so +far differ from ours that they produce unconceivable Wonders, at least, +so they appear to us, because New and Strange. What I have mentioned I +have taken care shou’d be Truth, let the Critical Reader judge as he +pleases. ’Twill be no Commendation to the Book to assure your Lordship I +writ it in a few Hours, though it may serve to Excuse some of its Faults +of Connexion, for I never rested my Pen a Moment for Thought: ’Tis +purely the Merit of my Slave that must render it worthy of the Honour it +begs; and the Author of that of Subscribing herself,</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +My Lord<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>Your Lordship’s most oblig’d<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>and obedient Servant<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>A. Behn.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">129</span> + +<h4><a name = "oroonoko_main" id = "oroonoko_main"> +THE HISTORY OF</a><br> +THE <i>ROYAL SLAVE</i>.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">I do</span> not pretend, in giving you the +History of this <i>ROYAL SLAVE</i>, to entertain my Reader with the +Adventures of a feign’d <i>Hero</i>, whose Life and Fortunes Fancy may +manage at the Poet’s Pleasure; nor in relating the Truth, design to +adorn it with any Accidents, but such as arrived in earnest to him: And +it shall come simply into the World, recommended by its own proper +Merits, and natural Intrigues; there being enough of Reality to support +it, and to render it diverting, without the Addition of Invention.</p> + +<p>I was myself an Eye-witness to a great Part of what you will find +here set down; and what I could not be Witness of, I receiv’d from +the Mouth of the chief Actor in this History, the <i>Hero</i> himself, +who gave us the whole Transactions of his Youth: And I shall omit, for +Brevity’s Sake, a thousand little Accidents of his Life, which, +however pleasant to us, where History was scarce, and Adventures very +rare, yet might prove tedious and heavy to my Reader, in a World where +he finds Diversions for every Minute, new and strange. But we who were +perfectly charm’d with the Character of this great Man, were curious to +gather every Circumstance of his Life.</p> + +<p>The Scene of the last Part of his Adventures lies in a Colony in +<i>America</i>, called <i>Surinam</i>, in the <i>West-Indies</i>.</p> + +<p>But before I give you the Story of this <i>Gallant Slave</i>, ’tis +fit I tell you the Manner of bringing them to these new <i>Colonies</i>; +those they make Use of there, not being <i>Natives</i> of the Place: for +those we live with in perfect Amity, +<span class = "pagenum">130</span> +without daring to command ’em; but, on the contrary, caress ’em with all +the brotherly and friendly Affection in the World; trading with them for +their Fish, Venison, Buffaloes Skins, and little Rarities; as +<i>Marmosets</i>, a sort of Monkey, as big as a Rat or Weasel, but +of a marvellous and delicate Shape, having Face and Hands like a Human +Creature; and <i>Cousheries</i>, a little Beast in the Form and +Fashion of a Lion, as big as a Kitten, but so exactly made in all Parts +like that Noble Beast, that it is it in <i>Miniature</i>: Then for +little <i>Paraketoes</i>, great <i>Parrots</i>, <i>Muckaws</i>, and a +thousand other Birds and Beasts of wonderful and surprizing Forms, +Shapes, and Colours: For Skins of prodigious Snakes, of which there are +some three-score Yards in Length; as is the Skin of one that may be seen +at his Majesty’s <i>Antiquary’s</i>; where are also some rare Flies, of +amazing Forms and Colours, presented to ’em by myself; some as big as my +Fist, some less; and all of various Excellencies, such as Art cannot +imitate. Then we trade for Feathers, which they order into all Shapes, +make themselves little short Habits of ’em, and glorious Wreaths for +their Heads, Necks, Arms and Legs, whose Tinctures are unconceivable. +I had a Set of these presented to me, and <a class = "comm" name = +"oroonoko_commtag1" id = "oroonoko_commtag1" href = "#oroonoko_comm1">I +gave ’em to the <i>King’s Theatre</i></a>; it was the Dress of the +<i>Indian Queen</i>, infinitely admir’d by Persons of Quality; and was +inimitable. Besides these, a thousand little Knacks, and Rarities +in Nature; and some of Art, as their Baskets, Weapons, Aprons, &c. +We dealt with ’em with Beads of all Colours, Knives, Axes, Pins and +Needles, which they us’d only as Tools to drill Holes with in their +Ears, Noses and Lips, where they hang a great many little Things; as +long Beads, Bits of Tin, Brass or Silver beat thin, and any shining +Trinket. The Beads they weave into Aprons about a Quarter of an Ell +long, and of the same Breadth; working them very prettily in Flowers of +several Colours; which Apron they wear just before ’em, as <i>Adam</i> +and <i>Eve</i> did the Fig-leaves; the Men wearing +<span class = "pagenum">131</span> +a long Stripe of Linen, which they deal with us for. They thread these +Beads also on long Cotton-threads, and make Girdles to tie their Aprons +to, which come twenty times, or more, about the Waste, and then cross, +like a Shoulder-belt, both Ways, and round their Necks, Arms and Legs. +This Adornment, with their long black Hair, and the Face painted in +little Specks or Flowers here and there, makes ’em a wonderful Figure to +behold. Some of the Beauties, which indeed are finely shap’d, as almost +all are, and who have pretty Features, are charming and novel; for they +have all that is called Beauty, except the Colour, which is a reddish +Yellow; or after a new Oiling, which they often use to themselves, they +are of the Colour of a new Brick, but smooth, soft and sleek. They are +extreme modest and bashful, very shy, and nice of being touch’d. And +tho’ they are all thus naked, if one lives for ever among ’em, there +<ins class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘it’">is</ins> not to be +seen an indecent Action, or Glance: and being continually us’d to see +one another so unadorn’d, so like our first Parents before the Fall, it +seems as if they had no Wishes, there being nothing to heighten +Curiosity: but all you can see, you see at once, and every Moment see; +and where there is no Novelty, there can be no Curiosity. Not but I have +seen a handsome young <i>Indian</i>, dying for Love of a very beautiful +young <i>Indian</i> Maid; but all his Courtship was, to fold his Arms, +pursue her with his Eyes, and Sighs were all his Language: While she, as +if no such Lover were present, or rather as if she desired none such, +carefully guarded her Eyes from beholding him; and never approach’d him, +but she looked down with all the blushing Modesty I have seen in the +most Severe and Cautious of our World. And these People represented to +me an absolute <i>Idea</i> of the first State of Innocence, before Man +knew how to sin: And ’tis most evident and plain, that simple Nature is +the most harmless, inoffensive and virtuous Mistress. ’Tis she alone, if +she were permitted, that better instructs the +<span class = "pagenum">132</span> +World, than all the Inventions of Man: Religion would here but destroy +that Tranquillity they possess by Ignorance; and Laws would but teach +’em to know Offences, of which now they have no Notion. They once made +Mourning and Fasting for the Death of the <i>English</i> Governor, who +had given his Hand to come on such a Day to ’em, and neither came nor +sent; believing, when a Man’s Word was past, nothing but Death could or +should prevent his keeping it: And when they saw he was not dead, they +ask’d him what Name they had for a Man who promis’d a Thing he did not +do? The Governor told them, Such a Man was a <i>Lyar</i>, which was a +Word of Infamy to a Gentleman. Then one of ’em reply’d, <i>Governor, you +are a Lyar, and guilty of that Infamy</i>. They have a native Justice, +which knows no Fraud; and they understand no Vice, or Cunning, but when +they are taught by the <i>White</i> Men. They have Plurality of Wives; +which, when they grow old, serve those that succeed ’em, who are young, +but with a Servitude easy and respected; and unless they take Slaves in +War, they have no other Attendants.</p> + +<p>Those on that <i>Continent</i> where I was, had no King; but the +oldest War-Captain was obey’d with great Resignation.</p> + +<p>A War-Captain is a Man who has led them on to Battle with Conduct and +Success; of whom I shall have Occasion to speak more hereafter, and of +some other of their Customs and Manners, as they fall in my Way.</p> + +<p>With these People, as I said, we live in perfect Tranquillity, and +good Understanding, as it behoves us to do; they knowing all the Places +where to seek the best Food of the Country, and the Means of getting it; +and for very small and unvaluable Trifles, supplying us with what ’tis +almost impossible for us to get; for they do not only in the Woods, and +over the <i>Sevana’s</i>, in Hunting, supply the Parts of Hounds, by +swiftly scouring thro’ those almost impassable Places, and by the mere +Activity of their Feet, run down the nimblest Deer, and other eatable +<span class = "pagenum">133</span> +Beasts; but in the Water, one would think they were Gods of the Rivers, +or Fellow-Citizens of the Deep; so rare an Art they have in swimming, +diving, and almost living in Water; by which they command the less swift +Inhabitants of the Floods. And then for shooting, what they cannot take, +or reach with their Hands, they do with Arrows; and have so admirable an +Aim, that they will split almost an Hair, and at any Distance that an +Arrow can reach: they will shoot down Oranges, and other Fruit, and only +touch the Stalk with the Dart’s Point, that they may not hurt the Fruit. +So that they being on all Occasions very useful to us, we find it +absolutely necessary to caress ’em as Friends, and not to treat ’em as +Slaves; nor dare we do otherwise, their Numbers so far surpassing ours +in that Continent.</p> + +<p>Those then whom we make use of to work in our Plantations of Sugar, +are <i>Negroes</i>, Black-Slaves altogether, who are transported thither +in this Manner.</p> + +<p>Those who want Slaves, make a Bargain with a Master, or a Captain of +a Ship, and contract to pay him so much apiece, a Matter of twenty +Pound a Head, for as many as he agrees for, and to pay for ’em when they +shall be deliver’d on such a Plantation: So that when there arrives a +Ship laden with Slaves, they who have so contracted, go aboard, and +receive their Number by Lot; and perhaps in one Lot that may be for ten, +there may happen to be three or four Men, the rest Women and Children. +Or be there more or less of either Sex, you are obliged to be contented +with your Lot.</p> + +<p><i>Coramantien</i>, a Country of <i>Blacks</i> so called, was one of +those Places in which they found the most advantageous Trading for these +Slaves, and thither most of our great Traders in that Merchandize +traffick; for that Nation is very warlike and brave; and having a +continual Campaign, being always in Hostility with one neighbouring +Prince or other, they had the Fortune to take a great many Captives: for +all they took in Battle were sold as Slaves; +<span class = "pagenum">134</span> +at least those common Men who could not ransom themselves. Of these +Slaves so taken, the General only has all the Profit; and of these +Generals our Captains and Masters of Ships buy all their Freights.</p> + +<p>The King of <i>Coramantien</i> was of himself a Man of an hundred and +odd Years old, and had no Son, tho’ he had many beautiful Black Wives: +for most certainly there are Beauties that can charm of that Colour. In +his younger Years he had had many gallant Men to his Sons, thirteen of +whom died in Battle, conquering when they fell; and he had only left him +for his Successor, one Grand-child, Son to one of these dead Victors, +who, as soon as he could bear a Bow in his Hand, and a Quiver at his +Back, was sent into the Field, to be train’d up by one of the oldest +Generals to War; where, from his natural Inclination to Arms, and the +Occasions given him, with the good Conduct of the old General, he +became, at the Age of seventeen, one of the most expert Captains, and +bravest Soldiers that ever saw the Field of <i>Mars</i>: so that he was +ador’d as the Wonder of all that World, and the Darling of the Soldiers. +Besides, he was adorn’d with a native Beauty, so transcending all those +of his gloomy Race, that he struck an Awe and Reverence, even into those +that knew not his Quality; as he did into me, who beheld him with +Surprize and Wonder, when afterwards he arrived in our World.</p> + +<p>He had scarce arrived at his seventeenth Year, when, fighting by his +Side, the General was kill’d with an Arrow in his Eye, which the Prince +<i>Oroonoko</i> (for so was this gallant <i>Moor</i> call’d) very +narrowly avoided; nor had he, if the General who saw the Arrow shot, and +perceiving it aimed at the Prince, had not bow’d his Head between, on +Purpose to receive it in his own Body, rather than it should touch that +of the Prince, and so saved him.</p> + +<p>’Twas then, afflicted as <i>Oroonoko</i> was, that he was proclaimed +General in the old Man’s Place: and then it was, at the finishing of +that War, which had continu’d for two +<span class = "pagenum">135</span> +Years, that the Prince came to Court, where he had hardly been a Month +together, from the Time of his fifth Year to that of seventeen: and +’twas amazing to imagine where it was he learn’d so much Humanity; or to +give his Accomplishments a juster Name, where ’twas he got that real +Greatness of Soul, those refined Notions of true Honour, that absolute +Generosity, and that Softness, that was capable of the highest Passions +of Love and Gallantry, whose Objects were almost continually fighting +Men, or those mangled or dead, who heard no Sounds but those of War and +Groans. Some Part of it we may attribute to the Care of a +<i>Frenchman</i> of Wit and Learning, who finding it turn to a very good +Account to be a sort of Royal Tutor to this young Black, and perceiving +him very ready, apt, and quick of Apprehension, took a great Pleasure to +teach him Morals, Language and Science; and was for it extremely belov’d +and valu’d by him. Another Reason was, he lov’d when he came from War, +to see all the <i>English</i> Gentlemen that traded thither; and did not +only learn their Language, but that of the <i>Spaniard</i> also, with +whom he traded afterwards for Slaves.</p> + +<p>I have often seen and conversed with this Great Man, and been a +Witness to many of his mighty Actions; and do assure my Reader, the most +illustrious Courts could not have produced a braver Man, both for +Greatness of Courage and Mind, a Judgment more solid, a Wit +more quick, and a Conversation more sweet and diverting. He knew almost +as much as if he had read much: He had heard of and admired the +<i>Romans</i>: He had heard of the late Civil Wars in <i>England</i>, +and the deplorable Death of our great Monarch; and would discourse of it +with all the Sense and Abhorrence of the Injustice imaginable. He had an +extreme good and graceful Mien, and all the Civility of a well-bred +Great Man. He had nothing of Barbarity in his Nature, but in all Points +address’d himself as if his Education had been in some <i>European</i> +Court.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">136</span> +<p>This great and just Character of <i>Oroonoko</i> gave me an extreme +Curiosity to see him, especially when I knew he spoke <i>French</i> and +<i>English</i>, and that I could talk with him. But tho’ I had +heard so much of him, I was as greatly surprized when I saw him, as +if I had heard nothing of him; so beyond all Report I found him. He came +into the Room, and addressed himself to me, and some other Women, with +the best Grace in the World. He was pretty tall, but of a Shape the most +exact that can be fancy’d: The most famous Statuary could not form the +Figure of a Man more admirably turn’d from Head to Foot. His Face was +not of that brown rusty Black which most of that Nation are, but a +perfect Ebony, or polished Jet. His Eyes were the most aweful that could +be seen, and very piercing; the White of ’em being like Snow, as were +his Teeth. His Nose was rising and <i>Roman</i>, instead of +<i>African</i> and flat: His Mouth the finest shaped that could be seen; +far from those great turn’d Lips, which are so natural to the rest of +the Negroes. The whole Proportion and Air of his Face was so nobly and +exactly form’d, that bating his Colour, there could be nothing in Nature +more beautiful, agreeable and handsome. There was no one Grace wanting, +that bears the Standard of true Beauty. His Hair came down to his +Shoulders, by the Aids of Art, which was by pulling it out with a Quill, +and keeping it comb’d; of which he took particular Care. Nor did the +Perfections of his Mind come short of those of his Person; for his +Discourse was admirable upon almost any Subject: and whoever had heard +him speak, would have been convinced of their Errors, that all fine Wit +is confined to the white Men, especially to those of Christendom; and +would have confess’d that <i>Oroonoko</i> was as capable even of +reigning well, and of governing as wisely, had as great a Soul, as +politick Maxims, and was as sensible of Power, as any Prince civiliz’d +in the most refined Schools of Humanity and Learning, or the most +illustrious Courts.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">137</span> +<p>This Prince, such as I have describ’d him, whose Soul and Body were +so admirably adorned, was (while yet he was in the Court of his +Grandfather, as I said) as capable of Love, as ’twas possible for a +brave and gallant Man to be; and in saying that, I have named the +highest Degree of Love: for sure great Souls are most capable of that +Passion.</p> + +<p>I have already said, the old General was kill’d by the Shot of an +Arrow, by the Side of this Prince, in Battle; and that <i>Oroonoko</i> +was made General. This old dead Hero had one only Daughter left of his +Race, a Beauty, that to describe her truly, one need say only, she +was Female to the noble Male; the beautiful Black <i>Venus</i> to our +young <i>Mars</i>; as charming in her Person as he, and of delicate +Virtues. I have seen a hundred White Men sighing after her, and +making a thousand Vows at her Feet, all in vain and unsuccessful. And +she was indeed too great for any but a Prince of her own Nation to +adore.</p> + +<p><i>Oroonoko</i> coming from the Wars (which were now ended) after he +had made his Court to his Grandfather, he thought in Honour he ought to +make a Visit to <i>Imoinda</i>, the Daughter of his Foster-father, the +dead General; and to make some Excuses to her, because his Preservation +was the Occasion of her Father’s Death; and to present her with those +Slaves that had been taken in this last Battle, as the Trophies of her +Father’s Victories. When he came, attended by all the young Soldiers of +any Merit, he was infinitely surpriz’d at the Beauty of this fair Queen +of Night, whose Face and Person were so exceeding all he had ever +beheld, that lovely Modesty with which she receiv’d him, that Softness +in her Look and Sighs, upon the melancholy Occasion of this Honour that +was done by so great a Man as <i>Oroonoko</i>, and a Prince of whom she +had heard such admirable Things; the Awfulness wherewith she receiv’d +him, and the Sweetness of her Words and Behaviour while he stay’d, +gain’d a perfect Conquest over +<span class = "pagenum">138</span> +his fierce Heart, and made him feel, the Victor could be subdu’d. So +that having made his first Compliments, and presented her an hundred and +fifty Slaves in Fetters, he told her with his Eyes, that he was not +insensible of her Charms; while <i>Imoinda</i>, who wish’d for nothing +more than so glorious a Conquest, was pleas’d to believe, she understood +that silent Language of new-born Love; and, from that Moment, put on all +her Additions to Beauty.</p> + +<p>The Prince return’d to Court with quite another Humour than before; +and tho’ he did not speak much of the fair <i>Imoinda</i>, he had the +Pleasure to hear all his Followers speak of nothing but the Charms of +that Maid, insomuch, that, even in the Presence of the old King, they +were extolling her, and heightning, if possible, the Beauties they had +found in her: so that nothing else was talk’d of, no other Sound was +heard in every Corner where there were Whisperers, but <i>Imoinda! +Imoinda!</i></p> + +<p>’Twill be imagin’d <i>Oroonoko</i> stay’d not long before he made his +second Visit; nor, considering his Quality, not much longer before he +told her, he ador’d her. I have often heard him say, that he +admir’d by what strange Inspiration he came to talk Things so soft, and +so passionate, who never knew Love, nor was us’d to the Conversation of +Women; but (to use his own Words) he said, ‘Most happily, some new, +and, till then, unknown Power instructed his Heart and Tongue in the +Language of Love; and at the same Time, in Favour of him, inspir’d +<i>Imoinda</i> with a Sense of his Passion.’ She was touch’d with what +he said, and return’d it all in such Answers as went to his very Heart, +with a Pleasure unknown before. Nor did he use those Obligations ill, +that Love had done him, but turn’d all his happy Moments to the best +Advantage; and as he knew no Vice, his Flame aim’d at nothing but +Honour, if such a Distinction may be made in Love; and especially in +that Country, where Men take to themselves as many as they can maintain; +and where +<span class = "pagenum">139</span> +the only Crime and Sin against a Woman, is, to turn her off, to abandon +her to Want, Shame and Misery: such ill Morals are only practis’d in +<i>Christian</i> Countries, where they prefer the bare Name of Religion; +and, without Virtue or Morality, think that sufficient. But +<i>Oroonoko</i> was none of those Professors; but as he had right +Notions of Honour, so he made her such Propositions as were not only and +barely such; but, contrary to the Custom of his Country, he made her +Vows, she should be the only Woman he would possess while he liv’d; that +no Age or Wrinkles should incline him to change: for her Soul would be +always fine, and always young; and he should have an eternal <i>Idea</i> +in his Mind of the Charms she now bore; and should look into his Heart +for that <i>Idea</i>, when he could find it no longer in her Face.</p> + +<p>After a thousand Assurances of his lasting Flame, and her eternal +Empire over him, she condescended to receive him for her Husband; or +rather, receive him, as the greatest Honour the Gods could do her.</p> + +<p>There is a certain Ceremony in these Cases to be observ’d, which I +forgot to ask how ’twas perform’d; but ’twas concluded on both Sides, +that in Obedience to him, the Grandfather was to be first made +acquainted with the Design: For they pay a most absolute Resignation to +the Monarch, especially when he is a Parent also.</p> + +<p>On the other Side, the old King, who had many Wives, and many +Concubines, wanted not Court-Flatterers to insinuate into his Heart a +thousand tender Thoughts for this young Beauty; and who represented her +to his Fancy, as the most charming he had ever possess’d in all the long +Race of his numerous Years. At this Character, his old Heart, like an +extinguish’d Brand, most apt to take Fire, felt new Sparks of Love, and +began to kindle; and now grown to his second Childhood, long’d with +Impatience to behold this gay Thing, with whom, alas! he could but +innocently play. But how he should be confirm’d she was +<span class = "pagenum">140</span> +this <i>Wonder</i>, before he us’d his Power to call her to Court, +(where Maidens never came, unless for the King’s private Use) he was +next to consider; and while he was so doing, he had Intelligence brought +him, that <i>Imoinda</i> was most certainly Mistress to the Prince +<i>Oroonoko</i>. This gave him some Chagrine: however, it gave him also +an Opportunity, one Day, when the Prince was a hunting, to wait on a Man +of Quality, as his Slave and Attendant, who should go and make a Present +to <i>Imoinda</i>, as from the Prince; he should then, unknown, see this +fair Maid, and have an Opportunity to hear what Message she would return +the Prince for his Present, and from thence gather the State of her +Heart, and Degree of her Inclination. This was put in Execution, and the +old Monarch saw, and burn’d: He found her all he had heard, and would +not delay his Happiness, but found he should have some Obstacle to +overcome her Heart; for she express’d her Sense of the Present the +Prince had sent her, in Terms so sweet, so soft and pretty, with an Air +of Love and Joy that could not be dissembled, insomuch that ’twas past +Doubt whether she lov’d <i>Oroonoko</i> entirely. This gave the old King +some Affliction; but he salv’d it with this, that the Obedience the +People pay their King, was not at all inferior to what they paid their +Gods; and what Love would not oblige <i>Imoinda</i> to do, Duty would +compel her to.</p> + +<p>He was therefore no sooner got into his Apartment, but he sent the +Royal Veil to <i>Imoinda</i>; that is the Ceremony of Invitation: He +sends the Lady he has a Mind to honour with his Bed, a Veil, with +which she is covered, and secur’d for the King’s Use; and ’tis Death to +disobey; besides, held a most impious Disobedience.</p> + +<p>’Tis not to be imagin’d the Surprize and Grief that seiz’d the lovely +Maid at this News and Sight. However, as Delays in these Cases are +dangerous, and Pleading worse than Treason; trembling, and almost +fainting, she was oblig’d to suffer herself to be cover’d, and led +away.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">141</span> +<p>They brought her thus to Court; and the King, who had caus’d a very +rich Bath to be prepar’d, was led into it, where he sat under a Canopy, +in State, to receive this long’d-for Virgin; whom he having commanded to +be brought to him, they (after disrobing her) led her to the Bath, and +making fast the Doors, left her to descend. The King, without more +Courtship, bad her throw off her Mantle, and come to his Arms. But +<i>Imoinda</i>, all in Tears, threw herself on the Marble, on the Brink +of the Bath, and besought him to hear her. She told him, as she was a +Maid, how proud of the Divine Glory she should have been, of having it +in her Power to oblige her King: but as by the Laws he could not, and +from his Royal Goodness would not take from any Man his wedded Wife; so +she believ’d she should be the occasion of making him commit a great +Sin, if she did not reveal her State and Condition; and tell him she was +another’s, and could not be so happy to be his.</p> + +<p>The King, enrag’d at this Delay, hastily demanded the Name of the +bold Man, that had married a Woman of her Degree, without his Consent. +<i>Imoinda</i> seeing his Eyes fierce, and his Hands tremble, (whether +with Age or Anger, I know not, but she fancy’d the last) almost +repented she had said so much, for now she fear’d the Storm would fall +on the Prince; she therefore said a thousand Things to appease the +raging of his Flame, and to prepare him to hear who it was with +Calmness: but before she spoke, he imagin’d who she meant, but would not +seem to do so, but commanded her to lay aside her Mantle, and suffer +herself to receive his Caresses, or, by his Gods he swore, that happy +Man whom she was going to name should die, tho’ it was even +<i>Oroonoko</i> himself. <i>Therefore</i> (said he) <i>deny this +Marriage, and swear thyself a Maid. That</i> (reply’d <i>Imoinda</i>) +<i>by all our Powers I do; for I am not yet known to my Husband. ’Tis +enough</i> (said the King) <i>’tis enough both to satisfy my Conscience +and my Heart.</i> And rising from his Seat, he +<span class = "pagenum">142</span> +went and led her into the Bath; it being in vain for her to resist.</p> + +<p>In this Time, the Prince, who was return’d from Hunting, went to +visit his <i>Imoinda</i>, but found her gone; and not only so, but heard +she had receiv’d the Royal Veil. This rais’d him to a Storm; and in his +Madness, they had much ado to save him from laying violent Hands on +himself. Force first prevail’d, and then Reason: They urg’d all to him, +that might oppose his Rage; but nothing weigh’d so greatly with him as +the King’s old Age, uncapable of injuring him with <i>Imoinda</i>. He +would give Way to that Hope, because it pleas’d him most, and flatter’d +best his Heart. Yet this serv’d not altogether to make him cease his +different Passions, which sometimes rag’d within him, and soften’d into +Showers. ’Twas not enough to appease him, to tell him, his Grandfather +was old, and could not that Way injure him, while he retain’d that awful +Duty which the young Men are us’d there to pay to their grave Relations. +He could not be convinc’d he had no Cause to sigh and mourn for the Loss +of a Mistress, he could not with all his Strength and Courage retrieve, +and he would often cry, ‘Oh, my Friends! were she in wall’d Cities, or +confin’d from me in Fortifications of the greatest Strength; did +Inchantments or Monsters detain her from me; I would venture thro’ +any Hazard to free her; But here, in the Arms of a feeble old Man, my +Youth, my violent Love, my Trade in Arms, and all my vast Desire of +Glory, avail me nothing. <i>Imoinda</i> is as irrecoverably lost to me, +as if she were snatch’d by the cold Arms of Death: Oh! she is never to +be retrieved. If I would wait tedious Years; till Fate should bow the +old King to his Grave, even that would not leave me <i>Imoinda</i> free; +but still that Custom that makes it so vile a Crime for a Son to marry +his Father’s Wives or Mistresses, would hinder my Happiness; unless I +would either ignobly set an ill Precedent to my Successors, or abandon +my Country, and +<span class = "pagenum">143</span> +fly with her to some unknown World who never heard our Story.’</p> + +<p>But it was objected to him, That his Case was not the same: for +<i>Imoinda</i> being his lawful Wife by solemn Contract, ’twas he was +the injur’d Man, and might, if he so pleas’d, take <i>Imoinda</i> back, +the Breach of the Law being on his Grandfather’s Side; and that if he +could circumvent him, and redeem her from the <i>Otan</i>, which is the +Palace of the King’s Women, a sort of <i>Seraglio</i>, it was both +just and lawful for him so to do.</p> + +<p>This Reasoning had some Force upon him, and he should have been +entirely comforted, but for the Thought that she was possess’d by his +Grandfather. However, he lov’d her so well, that he was resolv’d to +believe what most favour’d his Hope, and to endeavour to learn from +<i>Imoinda’s</i> own Mouth, what only she could satisfy him in, whether +she was robb’d of that Blessing which was only due to his Faith and +Love. But as it was very hard to get a Sight of the Women, (for no Men +ever enter’d into the <i>Otan</i> but when the King went to entertain +himself with some one of his Wives or Mistresses; and ’twas Death, at +any other Time, for any other to go in) so he knew not how to +contrive to get a Sight of her.</p> + +<p>While <i>Oroonoko</i> felt all the Agonies of Love, and suffer’d +under a Torment the most painful in the World, the old King was not +exempted from his Share of Affliction. He was troubled, for having been +forc’d, by an irresistible Passion, to rob his Son of a Treasure, he +knew, could not but be extremely dear to him; since she was the most +beautiful that ever had been seen, and had besides, all the Sweetness +and Innocence of Youth and Modesty, with a Charm of Wit surpassing all. +He found, that however she was forc’d to expose her lovely Person to his +wither’d Arms, she could only sigh and weep there, and think of +<i>Oroonoko</i>; and oftentimes could not forbear speaking of him, tho’ +her Life were, by Custom, forfeited by owning her Passion. +<span class = "pagenum">144</span> +But she spoke not of a Lover only, but of a Prince dear to him to whom +she spoke; and of the Praises of a Man, who, ’till now, fill’d the old +Man’s Soul with Joy at every Recital of his Bravery, or even his Name. +And ’twas this Dotage on our young Hero, that gave <i>Imoinda</i> a +thousand Privileges to speak of him without offending; and this +Condescension in the old King, that made her take the Satisfaction of +speaking of him so very often.</p> + +<p>Besides, he many times enquir’d how the Prince bore himself: And +those of whom he ask’d, being entirely Slaves to the Merits and Virtues +of the Prince, still answer’d what <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘they they’">they</ins> thought conduc’d best to his +Service; which was, to make the old King fancy that the Prince had no +more Interest in <i>Imoinda</i>, and had resign’d her willingly to the +Pleasure of the King; that he diverted himself with his Mathematicians, +his Fortifications, his Officers, and his Hunting.</p> + +<p>This pleas’d the old Lover, who fail’d not to report these Things +again to <i>Imoinda</i>, that she might, by the Example of her young +Lover, withdraw her Heart, and rest better contented in his Arms. But, +however she was forc’d to receive this unwelcome News, in all +Appearance, with Unconcern and Content; her Heart was bursting within, +and she was only happy when she could get alone, to vent her Griefs and +Moans with Sighs and Tears.</p> + +<p>What Reports of the Prince’s Conduct were made to the King, he +thought good to justify, as far as possibly he could, by his Actions; +and when he appear’d in the Presence of the King, he shew’d a Face not +at all betraying his Heart: so that in a little Time, the old Man, being +entirely convinc’d that he was no longer a Lover of <i>Imoinda</i> he +carry’d him with him in his Train to the <i>Otan</i>, often to banquet +with his Mistresses. But as soon as he enter’d, one Day, into the +Apartment of <i>Imoinda</i>, with the King, at the first Glance from her +Eyes, notwith­standing all his determined Resolution, he was ready +to sink in the Place where he +<span class = "pagenum">145</span> +stood; and had certainly done so, but for the Support of <i>Aboan</i>, +a young Man who was next to him; which, with his Change of +Countenance, had betray’d him, had the King chanc’d to look that Way. +And I have observ’d, ’tis a very great Error in those who laugh when one +says, <i>A <em>Negro</em> can change Colour</i>: for I have seen +’em as frequently blush, and look pale, and that as visibly as ever I +saw in the most beautiful <i>White</i>. And ’tis certain, that both +these Changes were evident, this Day, in both these Lovers. And +<i>Imoinda</i>, who saw with some Joy the Change in the Prince’s Face, +and found it in her own, strove to divert the King from beholding +either, by a forc’d Caress, with which she met him; which was a new +Wound in the Heart of the poor dying Prince. But as soon as the King was +busy’d in looking on some fine Thing of <i>Imoinda’s</i> making, she had +Time to tell the Prince, with her angry, but Love-darting Eyes, that she +resented his Coldness, and bemoan’d her own miserable Captivity. Nor +were his Eyes silent, but answer’d her’s again, as much as Eyes could +do, instructed by the most tender and most passionate Heart that ever +lov’d: And they spoke so well, and so effectually, as <i>Imoinda</i> no +longer doubted but she was the only Delight and Darling of that Soul she +found pleading in ’em its Right of Love, which none was more willing to +resign than she. And ’twas this powerful Language alone that in an +Instant convey’d all the Thoughts of their Souls to each other; that +they both found there wanted but Opportunity to make them both entirely +happy. But when he saw another Door open’d by <i>Onahal</i> +(a former old Wife of the King’s, who now had Charge of +<i>Imoinda</i>) and saw the Prospect of a Bed of State made ready, with +Sweets and Flowers for the Dalliance of the King, who immediately led +the trembling Victim from his Sight, into that prepar’d Repose; what +Rage! what wild Frenzies seiz’d his Heart! which forcing to keep within +Bounds, and to suffer without Noise, it became the more insupportable, +<span class = "pagenum">146</span> +and rent his Soul with ten thousand Pains. He was forc’d to retire to +vent his Groans, where he fell down on a Carpet, and lay struggling a +long Time, and only breathing now and then—Oh <i>Imoinda</i>! When +<i>Onahal</i> had finished her necessary Affair within, shutting the +Door, she came forth, to wait till the King called; and hearing some one +sighing in the other Room, she pass’d on, and found the Prince in that +deplorable Condition, which she thought needed her Aid. She gave him +Cordials, but all in vain; till finding the Nature of his Disease, by +his Sighs, and naming <i>Imoinda</i>, she told him he had not so much +Cause as he imagined to afflict himself: for if he knew the King so well +as she did, he would not lose a Moment in Jealousy; and that she was +confident that <i>Imoinda</i> bore, at this Minute, Part in his +Affliction. <i>Aboan</i> was of the same Opinion, and both together +persuaded him to re-assume his Courage; and all sitting down on the +Carpet, the Prince said so many obliging Things to <i>Onahal</i>, that +he half-persuaded her to be of his Party: and she promised him, she +would thus far comply with his just Desires, that she would let +<i>Imoinda</i> know how faithful he was, what he suffer’d, and what he +said.</p> + +<p>This Discourse lasted till the King called, which gave +<i>Oroonoko</i> a certain Satisfaction; and with the Hope <i>Onahal</i> +had made him conceive, he assumed a Look as gay as ’twas possible a Man +in his Circumstances could do: and presently after, he was call’d in +with the rest who waited without. The King commanded Musick to be +brought, and several of his young Wives and Mistresses came all together +by his Command, to dance before him; where <i>Imoinda</i> perform’d her +Part with an Air and Grace so surpassing all the rest, as her Beauty was +above ’em, and received the Present ordained as a Prize. The Prince was +every Moment more charmed with the new Beauties and Graces he beheld in +this Fair-One; and while he gazed, and she danc’d, <i>Onahal</i> was +retired to a Window with <i>Aboan</i>.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">147</span> +<p>This <i>Onahal</i>, as I said, was one of the Cast-Mistresses of the +old King; and ’twas these (now past their Beauty) that were made +Guardians or Governantees to the new and the young ones, and whose +Business it was to teach them all those wanton Arts of Love, with which +they prevail’d and charm’d heretofore in their Turn; and who now treated +the triumphing Happy-ones with all the Severity, as to Liberty and +Freedom, that was possible, in Revenge of the Honours they rob them of; +envying them those Satisfactions, those Gallantries and Presents, that +were once made to themselves, while Youth and Beauty lasted, and which +they now saw pass, as it were regardless by, and paid only to the +Bloomings. And certainly, nothing is more afflicting to a decay’d +Beauty, than to behold in itself declining Charms, that were once +ador’d; and to find those Caresses paid to new Beauties, to which once +she laid Claim; to hear them whisper, as she passes by, that once was a +delicate Woman. Those abandon’d ladies therefore endeavour to revenge +all the Despights and Decays of Time, on these flourishing Happy-ones. +And ’twas this Severity that gave <i>Oroonoko</i> a thousand Fears he +should never prevail with <i>Onahal</i> to see <i>Imoinda</i>. But, as I +said, she was now retir’d to a Window with <i>Aboan</i>.</p> + +<p>This young Man was not only one of the best Quality, but a Man +extremely well made, and beautiful; and coming often to attend the King +to the <i>Otan</i>, he had subdu’d the Heart of the antiquated +<i>Onahal</i>, which had not forgot how pleasant it was to be in love. +And tho’ she had some Decays in her Face, she had none in her Sense and +Wit; she was there agreeable still, even to <i>Aboan’s</i> Youth: so +that he took Pleasure in entertaining her with Discourses of Love. He +knew also, that to make his Court to these She-favourites, was the Way +to be great; these being the Persons that do all Affairs and Business at +Court. He had also observed, that she had given him Glances more tender +and inviting than she had done to others of +<span class = "pagenum">148</span> +his Quality. And now, when he saw that her Favour could so absolutely +oblige the Prince, he fail’d not to sigh in her Ear, and look with Eyes +all soft upon her, and gave her Hope that she had made some Impressions +on his Heart. He found her pleas’d at this, and making a thousand +Advances to him: but the Ceremony ending, and the King departing, broke +up the Company for that Day, and his Conversation.</p> + +<p><i>Aboan</i> fail’d not that Night to tell the Prince of his Success, +and how advantageous the Service of <i>Onahal</i> might be to his Amour +with <i>Imoinda</i>. The Prince was overjoy’d with this good News, and +besought him, if it were possible, to caress her so, as to engage her +entirely, which he could not fail to do, if he comply’d with her +Desires: <i>For then</i> (said the Prince) <i>her Life lying at your +Mercy, she must grant you the Request you make in my Behalf</i>. +<i>Aboan</i> understood him, and assur’d him he would make Love so +effectually, that he would defy the most expert Mistress of the Art, to +find out whether he dissembled it, or had it really. And ’twas with +Impatience they waited the next Opportunity of going to the +<i>Otan</i>.</p> + +<p>The Wars came on, the Time of taking the Field approached; and ’twas +impossible for the Prince to delay his going at the Head of his Army to +encounter the Enemy; so that every Day seem’d a tedious Year, till he +saw his <i>Imoinda</i>: for he believed he could not live, if he were +forced away without being so happy. ’Twas with Impatience therefore that +he expected the next Visit the King would make; and, according to his +Wish, it was not long.</p> + +<p>The Parley of the Eyes of these two Lovers had not pass’d so +secretly, but an old jealous Lover could spy it; or rather, he wanted +not Flatterers who told him they observ’d it: so that the Prince was +hasten’d to the Camp, and this was the last Visit he found he should +make to the <i>Otan</i>; he therefore urged <i>Aboan</i> to make the +best of this last Effort, and to explain himself so to <i>Onahal</i>, +that she +<span class = "pagenum">149</span> +deferring her Enjoyment of her young Lover no longer, might make Way for +the Prince to speak to <i>Imoinda</i>.</p> + +<p>The whole Affair being agreed on between the Prince and <i>Aboan</i>, +they attended the King, as the Custom was, to the <i>Otan</i>; where, +while the whole Company was taken up in beholding the Dancing, and +Antick Postures the Women-Royal made to divert the King, <i>Onahal</i> +singled out <i>Aboan</i>, whom she found most pliable to her Wish. When +she had him where she believed she could not be heard, she sigh’d to +him, and softly cry’d, ‘Ah, <i>Aboan!</i> when will you be sensible of +my Passion? I confess it with my Mouth, because I would not give my +Eyes the Lye; and you have but too much already perceived they have +confess’d my Flame: nor would I have you believe, that because I am the +abandon’d Mistress of a King, I esteem myself altogether divested +of Charms: No, <i>Aboan</i>; I have still a Rest of Beauty enough +engaging, and have learn’d to please too well, not to be desirable. +I can have Lovers still, but will have none but <i>Aboan</i>. +Madam, (<i>reply’d the half-feigning Youth</i>) you have already, by my +Eyes, found you can still conquer; and I believe ’tis in pity of me you +condescend to this kind Confession. But, Madam, Words are used to be so +small a Part of our Country-Courtship, that ’tis rare one can get so +happy an Opportunity as to tell one’s Heart; and those few Minutes we +have, are forced to be snatch’d for more certain Proofs of Love than +speaking and sighing: and such I languish for.’</p> + +<p>He spoke this with such a Tone, that she hoped it true, and could not +forbear believing it; and being wholly transported with Joy for having +subdued the finest of all the King’s Subjects to her Desires, she took +from her Ears two large Pearls, and commanded him to wear ’em in his. He +would have refused ’em, crying, <i>Madam these are not the Proofs of our +Love that I expect; ’tis Opportunity, ’tis a Lone-Hour only, that can +make me happy.</i> But forcing the Pearls into his Hand, she whisper’d +softly to him; <i>Oh! +<span class = "pagenum">150</span> +do not fear a Woman’s Invention, when Love sets her a thinking.</i> And +pressing his Hand, she cry’d, <i>This Night you shall be happy. Come to +the Gate of the Orange-Grove, behind the <em>Otan</em>, and I will be +ready about midnight to receive you.</i> ’Twas thus agreed, and she left +him, that no Notice might be taken of their speaking together.</p> + +<p>The Ladies were still dancing, and the King, laid on a Carpet, with a +great deal of Pleasure was beholding them, especially <i>Imoinda</i>, +who that Day appeared more lovely than ever, being enlivened with the +good Tidings <i>Onahal</i> had brought her, of the constant Passion the +Prince had for her. The Prince was laid on another Carpet at the other +End of the Room, with his Eyes fixed on the Object of his Soul; and as +she turned or moved, so did they; and she alone gave his Eyes and Soul +their Motions. Nor did <i>Imoinda</i> employ her Eyes to any other use, +than in beholding with infinite Pleasure the Joy she produced in those +of the Prince. But while she was more regarding him than the Steps she +took, she chanced to fall, and so near him, as that leaping with extreme +Force from the Carpet, he caught her in his Arms as she fell; and ’twas +visible to the whole Presence, the Joy wherewith he received her. He +clasped her close to his Bosom, and quite forgot that Reverence that was +due to the Mistress of a King, and that Punishment that is the Reward of +a Boldness of this Nature. And had not the Presence of Mind of +<i>Imoinda</i> (fonder of his Safety than her own) befriended him, in +making her spring from his Arms, and fall into her Dance again, he had +at that Instant met his Death; for the old King, jealous to the last +Degree, rose up in Rage, broke all the Diversion, and led <i>Imoinda</i> +to her Apartment, and sent out Word to the Prince, to go immediately to +the Camp; and that if he were found another Night in Court, he should +suffer the Death ordained for disobedient Offenders.</p> + +<p>You may imagine how welcome this News was to +<span class = "pagenum">151</span> +<i>Oroonoko</i>, whose unseasonable Transport and Caress of +<i>Imoinda</i> was blamed by all Men that loved him: and now he +perceived his Fault, yet cry’d, <i>That for such another Moment he would +be content to die</i>.</p> + +<p>All the <i>Otan</i> was in Disorder about this Accident; and +<i>Onahal</i> was particularly concern’d, because on the Prince’s Stay +depended her Happiness; for she could no longer expect that of +<i>Aboan</i>: So that e’er they departed, they contrived it so, that the +Prince and he should both come that Night to the Grove of the +<i>Otan</i>, which was all of Oranges and Citrons, and that there they +would wait her Orders.</p> + +<p>They parted thus with Grief enough ’till Night, leaving the King in +Possession of the lovely Maid. But nothing could appease the Jealousy of +the old Lover; he would not be imposed on, but would have it, that +<i>Imoinda</i> made a false Step on Purpose to fall into +<i>Oroonoko’s</i> Bosom, and that all things looked like a Design on +both Sides; and ’twas in vain she protested her Innocence: He was old +and obstinate, and left her, more than half assur’d that his Fear was +true.</p> + +<p>The King going to his Apartment, sent to know where the Prince was, +and if he intended to obey his Command. The Messenger return’d, and told +him, he found the Prince pensive, and altogether unprepar’d for the +Campaign; that he lay negligently on the Ground, and answer’d very +little. This confirmed the Jealousy of the King, and he commanded that +they should very narrowly and privately watch his Motions; and that he +should not stir from his Apartment, but one Spy or other should be +employ’d to watch him: So that the Hour approaching, wherein he was to +go to the Citron-Grove; and taking only <i>Aboan</i> along with him, he +leaves his Apartment, and was watched to the very Gate of the +<i>Otan</i>; where he was seen to enter, and where they left him, to +carry back the Tidings to the King.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">152</span> +<p><i>Oroonoko</i> and <i>Aboan</i> were no sooner enter’d, but +<i>Onahal</i> led the Prince to the Apartment of <i>Imoinda</i>; who, +not knowing any thing of her Happiness, was laid in Bed. But +<i>Onahal</i> only left him in her Chamber, to make the best of his +Opportunity, and took her dear <i>Aboan</i> to her own; where he shewed +the Height of Complaisance for his Prince, when, to give him an +Opportunity, he suffered himself to be caressed in Bed by +<i>Onahal</i>.</p> + +<p>The Prince softly waken’d <i>Imoinda</i>, who was not a little +surpriz’d with Joy to find him there; and yet she trembled with a +thousand Fears. I believe he omitted saying nothing to this young +Maid, that might persuade her to suffer him to seize his own, and take +the Rights of Love. And I believe she was not long resisting those Arms +where she so longed to be; and having Opportunity, Night, and Silence, +Youth, Love, and Desire, he soon prevail’d, and ravished in a Moment +what his old Grandfather had been endeavouring for so many Months.</p> + +<p>’Tis not to be imagined the Satisfaction of these two young Lovers; +nor the Vows she made him, that she remained a spotless Maid till that +Night, and that what she did with his Grandfather had robb’d him of no +Part of her Virgin-Honour; the Gods, in Mercy and Justice, having +reserved that for her plighted Lord, to whom of Right it belonged. And +’tis impossible to express the Transports he suffer’d, while he listen’d +to a Discourse so charming from her loved Lips; and clasped that Body in +his Arms, for whom he had so long languished; and nothing now afflicted +him, but his sudden Departure from her; for he told her the Necessity, +and his Commands, but should depart satisfy’d in this, That since the +old King had hitherto not been able to deprive him of those Enjoyments +which only belonged to him, he believed for the future he would be less +able to injure him; so that, abating the Scandal of the Veil, which was +no otherwise so, than that she was Wife to another, he believed her +safe, even +<span class = "pagenum">153</span> +in the Arms of the King, and innocent; yet would he have ventur’d at the +Conquest of the World, and have given it all to have had her avoided +that Honour of receiving the <i>Royal Veil</i>. ’Twas thus, between a +thousand Caresses, that both bemoan’d the hard Fate of Youth and Beauty, +so liable to that cruel Promotion: ’Twas a Glory that could well have +been spared here, tho’ desired and aim’d at by all the young Females of +that Kingdom.</p> + +<p>But while they were thus fondly employ’d, forgetting how Time ran on, +and that the Dawn must conduct him far away from his only Happiness, +they heard a great Noise in the <i>Otan</i>, and unusual Voices of Men; +at which the Prince, starting from the Arms of the frighted +<i>Imoinda</i>, ran to a little Battle-Ax he used to wear by his Side; +and having not so much Leisure as to put on his Habit, he opposed +himself against some who were already opening the Door: which they did +with so much Violence, that <i>Oroonoko</i> was not able to defend it; +but was forced to cry out with a commanding Voice, ‘Whoever ye are that +have the Boldness to attempt to approach this Apartment thus rudely; +know, that I, the Prince <i>Oroonoko</i>, will revenge it with the +certain Death of him that first enters: Therefore stand back, and know, +this Place is sacred to Love and Me this Night; To-morrow ’tis the +King’s.’</p> + +<p>This he spoke with a Voice so resolv’d and assur’d, that they soon +retired from the Door; but cry’d, ‘’Tis by the King’s Command we are +come; and being satisfy’d by thy Voice, O Prince, as much as if we +had enter’d, we can report to the King the Truth of all his Fears, and +leave thee to provide for thy own Safety, as thou art advis’d by thy +Friends.’</p> + +<p>At these Words they departed, and left the Prince to take a short and +sad Leave of his <i>Imoinda</i>; who, trusting in the Strength of her +Charms, believed she should appease the Fury of a jealous King, by +saying, she was surprized, and that it was by Force of Arms he got into +her Apartment. +<span class = "pagenum">154</span> +All her Concern now was for his Life, and therefore she hasten’d him to +the Camp, and with much ado prevail’d on him to go. Nor was it she alone +that prevail’d; <i>Aboan</i> and <i>Onahal</i> both pleaded, and both +assured him of a Lye that should be well enough contrived to secure +<i>Imoinda</i>. So that at last, with a Heart sad as Death, dying Eyes, +and sighing Soul, <i>Oroonoko</i> departed, and took his way to the +Camp.</p> + +<p>It was not long after, the King in Person came to the <i>Otan</i>; +where beholding <i>Imoinda</i>, with Rage in his Eyes, he upbraided her +Wickedness, and Perfidy; and threatning her Royal Lover, she fell on her +Face at his Feet, bedewing the Floor with her Tears, and imploring his +Pardon for a Fault which she had not with her Will committed; as +<i>Onahal</i>, who was also prostrate with her, could testify: That, +unknown to her, he had broke into her Apartment, and ravished her. She +spoke this much against her Conscience; but to save her own Life, ’twas +absolutely necessary she should feign this Falsity. She knew it could +not injure the Prince, he being fled to an Army that would stand by him, +against any Injuries that should assault him. However, this last Thought +of <i>Imoinda’s</i> being ravished, changed the Measures of his Revenge; +and whereas before he designed to be himself her Executioner, he now +resolved she should not die. But as it is the greatest Crime in Nature +amongst them, to touch a Woman after having been possess’d by a Son, +a Father, or a Brother, so now he looked on <i>Imoinda</i> as a +polluted thing wholly unfit for his Embrace; nor would he resign her to +his Grandson, because she had received the <i>Royal Veil</i>: He +therefore removes her from the <i>Otan</i>, with <i>Onahal</i>; whom he +put into safe Hands, with Order they should be both sold off as Slaves +to another Country, either <i>Christian</i> or <i>Heathen</i>, ’twas no +Matter where.</p> + +<p>This cruel Sentence, worse than Death, they implor’d might be +reversed; but their Prayers were vain, and it was +<span class = "pagenum">155</span> +put in Execution accordingly, and that with so much Secrecy, that none, +either without or within the <i>Otan</i>, knew any thing of their +Absence, or their Destiny.</p> + +<p>The old King nevertheless executed this with a great deal of +Reluctancy; but he believed he had made a very great Conquest over +himself, when he had once resolved, and had perform’d what he resolved. +He believed now, that his Love had been unjust; and that he could not +expect the Gods, or <i>Captain of the Clouds</i> (as they call the +unknown Power) would suffer a better Consequence from so ill a Cause. He +now begins to hold <i>Oroonoko</i> excused; and to say, he had reason +for what he did. And now every body could assure the King how +passionately <i>Imoinda</i> was beloved by the Prince; even those +confess’d it now, who said the contrary before his Flame was not abated. +So that the King being old, and not able to defend himself in War, and +having no Sons of all his Race remaining alive, but only this, to +maintain him on his Throne; and looking on this as a man disobliged, +first by the Rape of his Mistress, or rather Wife, and now by depriving +him wholly of her, he fear’d, might make him desperate, and do some +cruel thing, either to himself or his old Grandfather the Offender, he +began to repent him extremely of the Contempt he had, in his Rage, put +on <i>Imoinda</i>. Besides, he consider’d he ought in Honour to have +killed her for this Offence, if it had been one. He ought to have had so +much Value and Consideration for a Maid of her Quality, as to have nobly +put her to Death, and not to have sold her like a common Slave; the +greatest Revenge, and the most disgraceful of any, and to which they a +thousand times prefer Death, and implore it; as <i>Imoinda</i> did, but +could not obtain that Honour. Seeing therefore it was certain that +<i>Oroonoko</i> would highly resent this Affront, he thought good to +make some Excuse for his Rashness to him; and to that End, he sent a +Messenger to the Camp, with Orders to treat with him about the Matter, +to gain +<span class = "pagenum">156</span> +his Pardon, and endeavour to mitigate his Grief: but that by no Means he +should tell him she was sold, but secretly put to Death; for he knew he +should never obtain his Pardon for the other.</p> + +<p>When the Messenger came, he found the Prince upon the Point of +engaging with the Enemy; but as soon as he heard of the Arrival of the +Messenger, he commanded him to his Tent, where he embraced him, and +received him with Joy; which was soon abated by the down-cast Looks of +the Messenger, who was instantly demanded the Cause by <i>Oroonoko</i>; +who, impatient of Delay, ask’d a thousand Questions in a Breath, and all +concerning <i>Imoinda</i>. But there needed little Return; for he could +almost answer himself of all he demanded, from his Sight and Eyes. At +last the Messenger casting himself at the Prince’s Feet, and kissing +them with all the Submission of a Man that had something to implore +which he dreaded to utter, besought him to hear with Calmness what he +had to deliver to him, and to call up all his noble and heroick Courage, +to encounter with his Words, and defend himself against the ungrateful +Things he had to relate. <i>Oroonoko</i> reply’d, with a deep Sigh, and +a languishing Voice,—<i>I am armed against their worst +Efforts—For I know they will tell me, <em>Imoinda</em> is no +more—And after that, you may spare the rest.</i> Then, commanding +him to rise, he laid himself on a Carpet, under a rich Pavilion, and +remained a good while silent, and was hardly heard to sigh. When he was +come a little to himself, the Messenger asked him Leave to deliver that +Part of his Embassy which the Prince had not yet divin’d: And the Prince +cry’d, <i>I permit thee</i>—Then he told him the Affliction +the old King was in, for the Rashness he had committed in his Cruelty to +<i>Imoinda</i>; and how he deign’d to ask Pardon for his Offence, and to +implore the Prince would not suffer that Loss to touch his Heart too +sensibly, which now all the Gods could not restore him, but might +recompense him in Glory, which he begged he +<span class = "pagenum">157</span> +would pursue; and that Death, that common Revenger of all Injuries, +would soon even the Account between him and a feeble old Man.</p> + +<p><i>Oroonoko</i> bad him return his Duty to his Lord and Master; and +to assure him, there was no Account of Revenge to be adjudged between +them; If there was, he was the Aggressor, and that Death would be just, +and, maugre his Age, would see him righted; and he was contented to +leave his Share of Glory to Youths more fortunate and worthy of that +Favour from the Gods: That henceforth he would never lift a Weapon, or +draw a Bow, but abandon the small Remains of his Life to Sighs and +Tears, and the continual Thoughts of what his Lord and Grandfather had +thought good to send out of the World, with all that Youth, that +Innocence and Beauty.</p> + +<p>After having spoken this, whatever his greatest Officers and Men of +the best Rank could do, they could not raise him from the Carpet, or +persuade him to Action, and Resolutions of Life; but commanding all to +retire, he shut himself into his Pavilion all that Day, while the Enemy +was ready to engage: and wondring at the Delay, the whole Body of the +chief of the Army then address’d themselves to him, and to whom they had +much ado to get Admittance. They fell on their Faces at the Foot of his +Carpet, where they lay, and besought him with earnest Prayers and Tears +to lead them forth to Battle, and not let the Enemy take Advantages of +them; and implored him to have Regard to his Glory, and to the World, +that depended on his Courage and Conduct. But he made no other Reply to +all their Supplications than this, That he had now no more Business for +Glory; and for the World, it was a Trifle not worth his Care: <i>Go</i>, +(continued he, sighing) <i>and divide it amongst you, and reap with Joy +what you so vainly prize, and leave me to my more welcome +Destiny.</i></p> + +<p>They then demanded what they should do, and whom he would constitute +in his Room, that the Confusion of +<span class = "pagenum">158</span> +ambitious Youth and Power might not ruin their Order, and make them a +Prey to the Enemy. He reply’d, he would not give himself that +Trouble—but wished ’em to chuse the bravest Man amongst ’em, let +his Quality or Birth be what it would: ‘For, Oh my Friends! +(says he) it is not Titles make Men Brave or Good; or Birth that +bestows Courage and Generosity, or makes the Owner Happy. Believe this, +when you behold <i>Oroonoko</i> the most wretched, and abandoned by +Fortune, of all the Creation of the Gods.’ So turning himself about, he +would make no more Reply to all they could urge or implore.</p> + +<p>The Army beholding their Officers return unsuccessful, with sad Faces +and ominous Looks, that presaged no good Luck, suffer’d a thousand Fears +to take Possession of their Hearts, and the Enemy to come even upon them +before they could provide for their Safety by any Defence: and tho’ they +were assured by some who had a Mind to animate them, that they should be +immediately headed by the Prince; and that in the mean time <i>Aboan</i> +had Orders to command as General; yet they were so dismay’d for want of +that great Example of Bravery, that they could make but a very feeble +Resistance; and, at last, down-right fled before the Enemy, who pursued +’em to the very Tents, killing ’em: Nor could all <i>Aboan’s</i> +Courage, which that Day gained him immortal Glory, shame ’em into a +manly Defence of themselves. The Guards that were left behind about the +Prince’s Tent, seeing the Soldiers flee before the Enemy, and scatter +themselves all over the Plain, in great Disorder, made such Out-cries, +as rouz’d the Prince from his amorous Slumber, in which he had remained +buried for two Days, without permitting any Sustenance to approach him. +But, in Spite of all his Resolutions, he had not the Constancy of Grief +to that Degree, as to make him insensible of the Danger of his Army; and +in that Instant he leaped from his Couch, and cry’d—‘Come, if we +must die, let us meet Death the noblest Way; and ’twill be +<span class = "pagenum">159</span> +more like <i>Oroonoko</i> to encounter him at an Army’s Head, opposing +the Torrent of a conquering Foe, than lazily on a Couch, to wait his +lingering Pleasure, and die every Moment by a thousand racking Thoughts; +or be tamely taken by an Enemy, and led a whining, love-sick Slave to +adorn the Triumphs of <i>Jamoan</i>, that young Victor, who already is +enter’d beyond the Limits I have prescrib’d him.’</p> + +<p>While he was speaking, he suffer’d his People to dress him for the +Field; and sallying out of his Pavilion, with more Life and Vigour in +his Countenance than ever he shew’d, he appear’d like some Divine Power +descended to save his Country from Destruction: And his People had +purposely put him on all Things that might make him shine with most +Splendor, to strike a reverend Awe into the Beholders. He flew into the +thickest of those that were pursuing his Men; and being animated with +Despair, he fought as if he came on Purpose to die, and did such Things +as will not be believed that human Strength could perform; and such, as +soon inspir’d all the rest with new Courage, and new Ardor. And now it +was that they began to fight indeed; and so, as if they would not be +out-done even by their ador’d Hero; who turning the Tide of the Victory, +changing absolutely the Fate of the Day, gain’d an entire Conquest: And +<i>Oroonoko</i> having the good Fortune to single out <i>Jamoan</i>, he +took him Prisoner with his own Hand, having wounded him almost to +Death.</p> + +<p>This <i>Jamoan</i> afterwards became very dear to him, being a Man +very Gallant, and of excellent Graces, and fine Parts; so that he never +put him amongst the Rank of Captives as they used to do, without +Distinction, for the common Sale, or Market, but kept him in his own +Court, where he retain’d nothing of the Prisoner but the Name, and +returned no more into his own Country; so great an Affection he took for +<i>Oroonoko</i>, and by a thousand Tales and Adventures of Love and +Gallantry, flatter’d his Disease of Melancholy and Languishment; which I +have often heard +<span class = "pagenum">160</span> +him say, had certainly kill’d him, but for the Conversation of this +Prince and <i>Aboan</i>, and the <i>French</i> Governor he had from his +Childhood, of whom I have spoken before, and who was a Man of admirable +Wit, great Ingenuity and Learning; all which he had infused into his +young Pupil. This <i>Frenchman</i> was banished out of his own Country +for some Heretical Notions he held; and tho’ he was a Man of very little +Religion, yet he had admirable Morals, and a brave Soul.</p> + +<p>After the total Defeat of <i>Jamoan’s</i> Army, which all fled, or +were left dead upon the Place, they spent some Time in the Camp; +<i>Oroonoko</i> chusing rather to remain a While there in his Tents, +than to enter into a Palace, or live in a Court where he had so lately +suffer’d so great a Loss, the Officers therefore, who saw and knew his +Cause of Discontent, invented all sorts of Diversions and Sports to +entertain their Prince: So that what with those Amusements abroad, and +others at home, that is, within their Tents, with the Persuasions, +Arguments, and Care of his Friends and Servants that he more peculiarly +priz’d, he wore off in Time a great Part of that Chagrin, and Torture of +Despair, which the first Efforts of <i>Imoinda’s</i> Death had given +him; insomuch, as having received a thousand kind Embassies from the +King, and Invitation to return to Court, he obey’d, tho’ with no little +Reluctancy; and when he did so, there was a visible Change in him, and +for a long Time he was much more melancholy than before. But Time +lessens all Extremes, and reduces ’em to Mediums, and Unconcern; but no +Motives of Beauties, tho’ all endeavour’d it, could engage him in any +sort of Amour, tho’ he had all the Invitations to it, both from his own +Youth, and other Ambitions and Designs.</p> + +<p><i>Oroonoko</i> was no sooner return’d from this last Conquest, and +receiv’d at Court with all the Joy and Magnificence that could be +express’d to a young Victor, who was not only return’d Triumphant, but +belov’d like a Deity, than there arriv’d in the Port an <i>English</i> +Ship.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">161</span> +<p>The Master of it had often before been in these Countries, and was +very well known to <i>Oroonoko</i>, with whom he had traffick’d for +Slaves, and had us’d to do the same with his Predecessors.</p> + +<p>This Commander was a Man of a finer sort of Address and Conversation, +better bred, and more engaging, than most of that sort of Men are; so +that he seem’d rather never to have been bred out of a Court, than +almost all his Life at Sea. This Captain therefore was always better +receiv’d at Court, than most of the Traders to those Countries were; and +especially by <i>Oroonoko</i>, who was more civiliz’d, according to the +<i>European</i> Mode, than any other had been, and took more Delight in +the <i>White</i> Nations; and, above all, Men of Parts and Wit. To this +Captain he sold abundance of his Slaves; and for the Favour and Esteem +he had for him, made him many Presents, and oblig’d him to stay at Court +as long as possibly he could. Which the Captain seem’d to take as a very +great Honour done him, entertaining the Prince every Day with Globes and +Maps, and Mathematical Discourses and Instruments; eating, drinking, +hunting, and living with him with so much Familiarity, that it was not +to be doubted but he had gain’d very greatly upon the Heart of this +gallant young Man. And the Captain, in Return of all these mighty +Favours, besought the Prince to honour his Vessel with his Presence some +Day or other at Dinner, before he should set sail; which he condescended +to accept, and appointed his Day. The Captain, on his Part, fail’d not +to have all Things in a Readiness, in the most magnificent Order he +could possibly: And the Day being come, the Captain, in his Boat, richly +adorn’d with Carpets and Velvet Cushions, rowed to the Shore, to receive +the Prince; with another Long-boat, where was plac’d all his Musick and +Trumpets, with which <i>Oroonoko</i> was extremely delighted; who met +him on the Shore, attended by his <i>French</i> Governor, <i>Jamoan</i>, +<i>Aboan</i>, and about an Hundred of the noblest of the Youths +<span class = "pagenum">162</span> +of the Court: And after they had first carried the Prince on Board, the +Boats fetch’d the rest off; where they found a very splendid Treat, with +all Sorts of fine Wines; and were as well entertain’d, as ’twas possible +in such a Place to be.</p> + +<p>The Prince having drank hard of Punch, and several Sorts of Wine, as +did all the rest, (for great Care was taken they should want nothing of +that Part of the Entertainment) was very merry, and in great Admiration +of the Ship, for he had never been in one before; so that he was curious +of beholding every Place where he decently might descend. The rest, no +less curious, who were not quite overcome with drinking, rambled at +their Pleasure <i>Fore</i> and <i>Aft</i>, as their Fancies guided ’em: +So that the Captain, who had well laid his Design before, gave the Word, +and seiz’d on all his Guests; they clapping great Irons suddenly on the +Prince, when he was leap’d down into the Hold, to view that Part of the +Vessel; and locking him fast down, secur’d him. The same Treachery was +used to all the rest; and all in one Instant, in several Places of the +Ship, were lash’d fast in Irons, and betray’d to Slavery. That great +Design over, they set all Hands at Work to hoist Sail; and with as +treacherous as fair a Wind they made from the Shore with this innocent +and glorious Prize, who thought of nothing less than such an +Entertainment.</p> + +<p>Some have commended this Act, as brave in the Captain; but I will +spare my Sense of it, and leave it to my Reader to judge as he pleases. +It may be easily guess’d, in what Manner the Prince resented this +Indignity, who may be best resembled to a Lion taken in a Toil; so he +raged, so he struggled for Liberty, but all in vain: And they had so +wisely managed his Fetters, that he could not use a Hand in his Defence, +to quit himself of a Life that would by no Means endure Slavery; nor +could he move from the Place where he was ty’d, to any solid Part of the +Ship, against which he might have beat his Head, and have finish’d +<span class = "pagenum">163</span> +his Disgrace that Way. So that being deprived of all other Means, he +resolv’d to perish for want of Food; and pleas’d at last with that +Thought, and toil’d and tir’d by Rage and Indignation, he laid himself +down, and sullenly resolv’d upon dying, and refused all Things that were +brought him.</p> + +<p>This did not a little vex the Captain, and the more so, because he +found almost all of ’em of the same Humour; so that the Loss of so many +brave Slaves, so tall and goodly to behold, would have been very +considerable: He therefore order’d one to go from him (for he would not +be seen himself) to <i>Oroonoko</i>, and to assure him, he was afflicted +for having rashly done so unhospitable a Deed, and which could not be +now remedied, since they were far from Shore; but since he resented it +in so high a Nature, he assur’d him he would revoke his Resolution, and +set both him and his Friends ashore on the next Land they should touch +at; and of this the Messenger gave him his Oath, provided he would +resolve to live. And <i>Oroonoko</i>, whose Honour was such, as he never +had violated a Word in his Life himself, much less a solemn +Asseveration, believ’d in an Instant what this Man said; but reply’d, He +expected, for a Confirmation of this, to have his shameful Fetters +dismis’d. This Demand was carried to the Captain; who return’d him +Answer, That the Offence had been so great which he had put upon the +Prince, that he durst not trust him with Liberty while he remain’d in +the Ship, for fear, lest by a Valour natural to him, and a Revenge that +would animate that Valour, he might commit some Outrage fatal to +himself, and the King his Master, to whom the Vessel did belong. To this +<i>Oroonoko</i> reply’d, He would engage his Honour to behave himself in +all friendly Order and Manner, and obey the Command of the Captain, as +he was Lord of the King’s Vessel, and General of those Men under his +Command.</p> + +<p>This was deliver’d to the still doubting Captain, who could not +resolve to trust a Heathen, he said, upon his +<span class = "pagenum">164</span> +Parole, a Man that had no Sense or Notion of the God that he +worshipp’d. <i>Oroonoko</i> then reply’d, He was very sorry to hear that +the Captain pretended to the Knowledge and Worship of any Gods, who had +taught him no better Principles, than not to credit as he would be +credited. But they told him, the Difference of their Faith occasion’d +that Distrust: for the Captain had protested to him upon the Word of a +Christian, and sworn in the Name of a great <span class = +"smallcaps">God</span>; which if he should violate, he must expect +eternal Torments in the World to come. ‘Is that all the Obligations he +has to be just to his Oath? (reply’d <i>Oroonoko</i>) Let him know, +I swear by my Honour; which to violate, would not only render me +contemptible and despised by all brave and honest Men, and so give my +self perpetual Pain, but it would be eternally offending and displeasing +all Mankind; harming, betraying, circumventing, and outraging all Men. +But Punishments hereafter are suffer’d by one’s self; and the World +takes no Cognizance whether this <span class = "smallcaps">God</span> +has reveng’d ’em or not, ’tis done so secretly, and deferr’d so long; +while the Man of no Honour suffers every Moment the Scorn and Contempt +of the honester World, and dies every Day ignominiously in his Fame, +which is more valuable than Life. I speak not this to move Belief, +but to shew you how you mistake, when you imagine, that he who will +violate his Honour, will keep his Word with his <i>Gods</i>.’ So, +turning from him with a disdainful Smile, he refused to answer him, when +he urged him to know what Answer he should carry back to his Captain; so +that he departed without saying any more.</p> + +<p>The Captain pondering and consulting what to do, it was concluded, +that nothing but <i>Oroonoko’s</i> Liberty would encourage any of the +rest to eat, except the <i>Frenchman</i>, whom the Captain could not +pretend to keep Prisoner, but only told him, he was secur’d, because he +might act something in Favour of the Prince; but that he should be freed +as soon as they came to Land. So that they +<span class = "pagenum">165</span> +concluded it wholly necessary to free the Prince from his Irons, that he +might shew himself to the rest; that they might have an Eye upon him, +and that they could not fear a single Man.</p> + +<p>This being resolved, to make the Obligation the greater, the Captain +himself went to <i>Oroonoko</i>; where, after many Compliments, and +Assurances of what he had already promis’d, he receiving from the Prince +his Parole, and his Hand, for his good Behaviour, dismiss’d his Irons, +and brought him to his own Cabin; where, after having treated and +repos’d him a While, (for he had neither eat nor slept in four Days +before) he besought him to visit those obstinate People in Chains, who +refused all manner of Sustenance; and intreated him to oblige ’em to +eat, and assure ’em of their Liberty the first Opportunity.</p> + +<p><i>Oroonoko</i>, who was too generous not to give Credit to his +Words, shew’d himself to his People, who were transported with Excess of +Joy at the Sight of their darling Prince; falling at his Feet, and +kissing and embracing ’em; believing, as some divine Oracle, all he +assur’d ’em. But he besought ’em to bear their Chains with that Bravery +that became those whom he had seen act so nobly in Arms; and that they +could not give him greater Proofs of their Love and Friendship, since +’twas all the Security the Captain (his Friend) could have against the +Revenge, he said, they might possibly justly take for the Injuries +sustained by him. And they all, with one Accord, assur’d him, that they +could not suffer enough, when it was for his Repose and Safety.</p> + +<p>After this, they no longer refus’d to eat, but took what was brought +’em, and were pleas’d with their Captivity, since by it they hoped to +redeem the Prince, who, all the rest of the Voyage, was treated with all +the Respect due to his Birth, tho’ nothing could divert his Melancholy; +and he would often sigh for <i>Imoinda</i>, and think this a Punishment +due to his Misfortune, in having left that +<span class = "pagenum">166</span> +noble Maid behind him, that fatal Night, in the <i>Otan</i>, when he +fled to the Camp.</p> + +<p>Possess’d with a thousand Thoughts of past Joys with this fair young +Person, and a thousand Griefs for her eternal Loss, he endur’d a tedious +Voyage, and at last arriv’d at the Mouth of the River of <i>Surinam</i>, +a Colony belonging to the King of <i>England</i>, and where they +were to deliver some Part of their Slaves. There the Merchants and +Gentlemen of the Country going on Board, to demand those Lots of Slaves +they had already agreed on; and, amongst those, the Overseers of those +Plantations where I then chanc’d to be: The Captain, who had given the +Word, order’d his Men to bring up those noble Slaves in Fetters, whom I +have spoken of; and having put ’em, some in one, and some in other Lots, +with Women and Children, (which they call <i>Pickaninies</i>) they sold +’em off, as Slaves to several Merchants and Gentlemen; not putting any +two in one Lot, because they would separate ’em far from each other; nor +daring to trust ’em together, lest Rage and Courage should put ’em upon +contriving some great Action, to the Ruin of the Colony.</p> + +<p><i>Oroonoko</i> was first seiz’d on, and sold to our Overseer, who +had the first Lot, with seventeen more of all Sorts and Sizes, but not +one of Quality with him. When he saw this, he found what they meant; +for, as I said, he understood <i>English</i> pretty well; and being +wholly unarm’d and defenceless, so as it was in vain to make any +Resistance, he only beheld the Captain with a Look all fierce and +disdainful, upbraiding him with Eyes that forc’d Blushes on his guilty +Cheeks, he only cry’d in passing over the Side of the Ship; <i>Farewel, +Sir, ’tis worth my Sufferings to gain so true a Knowledge, both of you, +and of your Gods, by whom you swear.</i> And desiring those that held +him to forbear their Pains, and telling ’em he would make no Resistance, +he cry’d, <i>Come, my Fellow-Slaves, let us descend, and see if we can +meet with more Honour and Honesty in the next +<span class = "pagenum">167</span> +World we shall touch upon.</i> So he nimbly leapt into the Boat, and +shewing no more Concern, suffer’d himself to be row’d up the River, with +his seventeen Companions.</p> + +<p>The Gentleman that bought him, was a young <i>Cornish</i> Gentleman, +whose Name was <i>Trefry</i>; a Man of great Wit, and fine Learning, and +was carried into those Parts by the Lord <span class = +"dash">——</span> Governor, to manage all his Affairs. He +reflecting on the last Words of <i>Oroonoko</i> to the Captain, and +beholding the Richness of his Vest, no sooner came into the Boat, but he +fix’d his Eyes on him; and finding something so extraordinary in his +Face, his Shape and Mein, a Greatness of Look, and Haughtiness in +his Air, and finding he spoke <i>English</i>, had a great Mind to be +enquiring into his Quality and Fortune; which, though <i>Oroonoko</i> +endeavour’d to hide, by only confessing he was above the Rank of common +Slaves, <i>Trefry</i> soon found he was yet something greater than he +confess’d; and from that Moment began to conceive so vast an Esteem for +him, that he ever after lov’d him as his dearest Brother, and shew’d him +all the Civilities due to so great a Man.</p> + +<p><i>Trefry</i> was a very good Mathematician, and a Linguist; could +speak <i>French</i> and <i>Spanish</i>; and in the three Days they +remain’d in the Boat, (for so long were they going from the Ship to the +Plantation) he entertain’d <i>Oroonoko</i> so agreeably with his Art and +Discourse, that he was no less pleas’d with <i>Trefry</i>, than he was +with the Prince; and he thought himself, at least, fortunate in this, +that since he was a Slave, as long as he would suffer himself to remain +so, he had a Man of so excellent Wit and Parts for a Master. So that +before they had finish’d their Voyage up the River, he made no Scruple +of declaring to <i>Trefry</i> all his Fortunes, and most Part of what I +have here related, and put himself wholly into the Hands of his new +Friend, who he found resented all the Injuries were done him, and was +charm’d with all the Greatnesses of his Actions; which were recited with +that Modesty, and delicate Sense, +<span class = "pagenum">168</span> +as wholly vanquish’d him, and subdu’d him to his Interest. And he +promis’d him, on his Word and Honour, he would find the Means to +re-conduct him to his own Country again; assuring him, he had a perfect +Abhorrence of so dishonourable an Action; and that he would sooner have +dy’d, than have been the Author of such a Perfidy. He found the Prince +was very much concerned to know what became of his Friends, and how they +took their Slavery; and <i>Trefry</i> promised to take Care about the +enquiring after their Condition, and that he should have an Account +of ’em.</p> + +<p>Tho’, as <i>Oroonoko</i> afterwards said, he had little Reason to +credit the Words of a <i>Backearary</i>; yet he knew not why, but he saw +a kind of Sincerity, and aweful Truth in the Face of <i>Trefry</i>; he +saw Honesty in his Eyes, and he found him wise and witty enough to +understand Honour: for it was one of his Maxims, <i>A Man of Wit +could not be a Knave or Villain</i>.</p> + +<p>In their Passage up the River, they put in at several Houses for +Refreshment; and ever when they landed, Numbers of People would flock to +behold this Man: not but their Eyes were daily entertain’d with the +Sight of Slaves; but the Fame of <i>Oroonoko</i> was gone before him, +and all People were in Admiration of his Beauty. Besides, he had a rich +Habit on, in which he was taken, so different from the rest, and which +the Captain could not strip him of, because he was forc’d to surprize +his Person in the Minute he sold him. When he found his Habit made him +liable, as he thought, to be gazed at the more, he begged <i>Trefry</i> +to give him something more befitting a Slave, which he did, and took off +his Robes: Nevertheless, he shone thro’ all, and his <a class = "comm" +name = "oroonoko_commtag2" id = "oroonoko_commtag2" href = +"#oroonoko_comm2"><i>Osenbrigs</i></a> (a sort of brown +<i>Holland</i> Suit he had on) could not conceal the Graces of his +Looks and Mein; and he had no less Admirers than when he had his dazling +Habit on: The Royal Youth appear’d in spite of the Slave, and People +could not help treating him after a different Manner, without designing +it. As soon as they +<span class = "pagenum">169</span> +approached him, they venerated and esteemed him; his Eyes insensibly +commanded Respect, and his Behaviour insinuated it into every Soul. So +that there was nothing talked of but this young and gallant Slave, even +by those who yet knew not that he was a Prince.</p> + +<p>I ought to tell you, that the Christians never buy any Slaves but +they give ’em some Name of their own, their native ones being likely +very barbarous, and hard to pronounce; so that Mr. <i>Trefry</i> gave +<i>Oroonoko</i> that of <i>Cæsar</i>; which name will live in that +Country as long as that (scarce more) glorious one of the great +<i>Roman</i>: for ’tis most evident he wanted no Part of the personal +Courage of that <i>Cæsar</i>, and acted Things as memorable, had they +been done in some Part of the World replenished with People and +Historians, that might have given him his Due. But his Misfortune was, +to fall in an obscure World, that afforded only a Female Pen to +celebrate his Fame; tho’ I doubt not but it had lived from others +Endeavours, if the <i>Dutch</i>, who immediately after his Time took +that Country, had not killed, banished and dispersed all those that were +capable of giving the World this great Man’s Life, much better than I +have done. And Mr. <i>Trefry</i>, who design’d it, died before he began +it, and bemoan’d himself for not having undertook it in Time.</p> + +<p>For the future therefore I must call <i>Oroonoko Cæsar</i>; since by +that Name only he was known in our Western World, and by that Name he +was received on Shore at <i>Parham-House</i>, where he was destin’d a +Slave. But if the King himself (God bless him) had come ashore, there +could not have been greater Expectation by all the whole Plantation, and +those neighbouring ones, than was on ours at that Time; and he was +received more like a Governor than a Slave: Notwithstanding, as the +Custom was, they assigned him his Portion of Land, his House and his +Business up in the Plantation. But as it was more for Form, than any +Design to put him to his Task, he endured no +<span class = "pagenum">170</span> +more of the Slave but the Name, and remain’d some Days in the House, +receiving all Visits that were made him, without stirring towards that +Part of the Plantation where the <i>Negroes</i> were.</p> + +<p>At last, he would needs go view his Land, his House, and the Business +assign’d him. But he no sooner came to the Houses of the Slaves, which +are like a little Town by itself, the <i>Negroes</i> all having left +Work, but they all came forth to behold him, and found he was that +Prince who had, at several Times, sold most of ’em to these Parts; and +from a Veneration they pay to great Men, especially if they know ’em, +and from the Surprize and Awe they had at the Sight of him, they all +cast themselves at his Feet, crying out, in their Language, <i>Live, +O King! Long live, O King!</i> and kissing his Feet, paid him +even Divine Homage.</p> + +<p>Several <i>English</i> Gentlemen were with him, and what Mr. +<i>Trefry</i> had told ’em was here confirm’d; of which he himself +before had no other Witness than <i>Cæsar</i> himself: But he was +infinitely glad to find his Grandeur confirmed by the Adoration of all +the Slaves.</p> + +<p><i>Cæsar</i>, troubled with their Over-Joy, and Over-Ceremony, +besought ’em to rise, and to receive him as their Fellow-Slave; assuring +them he was no better. At which they set up with one Accord a most +terrible and hideous Mourning and Condoling, which he and the +<i>English</i> had much ado to appease: but at last they prevailed with +’em, and they prepared all their barbarous Musick, and every one kill’d +and dress’d something of his own Stock (for every Family has their Land +apart, on which, at their Leisure-times, they breed all eatable Things) +and clubbing it together, made a most magnificent Supper, inviting their +<i>Grandee Captain</i>, their <i>Prince</i>, to honour it with his +Presence; which he did, and several <i>English</i> with him, where they +all waited on him, some playing, others dancing before him all the Time, +according to the Manners of +<span class = "pagenum">171</span> +their several Nations, and with unwearied Industry endeavouring to +please and delight him.</p> + +<p>While they sat at Meat, Mr. <i>Trefry</i> told <i>Cæsar</i>, that +most of these young Slaves were undone in Love with a fine She-Slave, +whom they had had about six Months on their Land; the Prince, who never +heard the Name of <i>Love</i> without a Sigh, nor any Mention of it +without the Curiosity of examining further into that Tale, which of all +Discourses was most agreeable to him, asked, how they came to be so +unhappy, as to be all undone for one fair Slave? <i>Trefry</i>, who was +naturally amorous, and delighted to talk of Love as well as any Body, +proceeded to tell him, they had the most charming Black that ever was +beheld on their Plantation, about fifteen or sixteen Years old, as he +guess’d; that for his Part he had done nothing but sigh for her ever +since she came; and that all the White Beauties he had seen, never +charm’d him so absolutely as this fine Creature had done; and that no +Man, of any Nation, ever beheld her, that did not fall in love with her; +and that she had all the Slaves perpetually at her Feet; and the whole +Country resounded with the Fame of <i>Clemene</i>, for so (said he) +we have christen’d her: but she denies us all with such a noble Disdain, +that ’tis a Miracle to see, that she who can give such eternal Desires, +should herself be all Ice and all Unconcern. She is adorn’d with the +most graceful Modesty that ever beautify’d Youth; the softest +Sigher—that, if she were capable of Love, one would swear she +languished for some absent happy Man; and so retired, as if she fear’d a +Rape even from the God of Day, or that the Breezes would steal Kisses +from her delicate Mouth. Her Task of Work, some sighing Lover every Day +makes it his Petition to perform for her; which she accepts blushing, +and with Reluctancy, for Fear he will ask her a Look for a Recompence, +which he dares not presume to hope; so great an Awe she strikes into the +Hearts of her Admirers. ‘I do not wonder (<i>reply’d the +<span class = "pagenum">172</span> +Prince</i>) that <i>Clemene</i> should refuse Slaves, being, as you say, +so beautiful; but wonder how she escapes those that can entertain her as +you can do: or why, being your Slave, you do not oblige her to yield?’ +‘I confess (<i>said <em>Trefry</em></i>) when I have, against her +Will, entertained her with Love so long, as to be transported with my +Passion even above Decency, I have been ready to make Use of those +Advantages of Strength and Force Nature has given me: But Oh! she +disarms me with that Modesty and Weeping, so tender and so moving, that +I retire, and thank my Stars she overcame me.’ The Company laugh’d at +his Civility to a Slave, and <i>Cæsar</i> only applauded the Nobleness +of his Passion and Nature, since that Slave might be noble, or, what was +better, have true Notions of Honour and Virtue in her. Thus passed they +this Night, after having received from the Slaves all imaginable Respect +and Obedience.</p> + +<p>The next Day, <i>Trefry</i> ask’d <i>Cæsar</i> to walk when the Heat +was allay’d, and designedly carried him by the Cottage of the fair +Slave; and told him she whom he spoke of last Night lived there retir’d: +<i>But</i> (says he) <i>I would not wish you to approach; for +I am sure you will be in Love as soon as you behold her.</i> +<i>Cæsar</i> assured him, he was Proof against all the Charms of that +Sex; and that if he imagined his Heart could be so perfidious to love +again after <i>Imoinda</i>, he believed he should tear it from his +Bosom. They had no sooner spoke, but a little Shock-Dog, that +<i>Clemene</i> had presented her, which she took great Delight in, ran +out; and she, not knowing any Body was there, ran to get it in again, +and bolted out on those who were just speaking of her: when seeing them, +she would have run in again, but <i>Trefry</i> caught her by the Hand, +and cry’d, Clemene, <i>however you fly a Lover, you ought to pay some +Respect to this Stranger</i>, (pointing to <i>Cæsar</i>.) But she, as if +she had resolved never to raise her Eyes to the Face of a Man again, +bent ’em the more to the Earth, when he spoke, and gave the Prince the +Leisure to look the more at her. +<span class = "pagenum">173</span> +There needed no long gazing, or Consideration, to examine who this fair +Creature was; he soon saw <i>Imoinda</i> all over her: in a Minute he +saw her Face, her Shape, her Air, her Modesty, and all that call’d forth +his Soul with Joy at his Eyes, and left his Body destitute of almost +Life: it stood without Motion, and for a Minute knew not that it had a +Being; and, I believe, he had never come to himself, so oppress’d +he was with Over-joy, if he had not met with this Allay, that he +perceived <i>Imoinda</i> fall dead in the Hands of <i>Trefry</i>. This +awaken’d him, and he ran to her Aid, and caught her in his Arms, where +by Degrees she came to her self; and ’tis needless to tell with what +Transports, what Extasies of Joy, they both a While beheld each other, +without speaking; then snatched each other to their Arms; then gaze +again, as if they still doubted whether they possess’d the Blessing they +grasped: but when they recover’d their Speech, ’tis not to be imagined +what tender Things they express’d to each other; wondring what strange +Fate had brought them again together. They soon inform’d each other of +their Fortunes, and equally bewail’d their Fate; but at the same Time +they mutually protested, that even Fetters and Slavery were soft and +easy, and would be supported with Joy and Pleasure, while they could be +so happy to possess each other, and to be able to make good their Vows. +<i>Cæsar</i> swore he disdained the Empire of the World, while he could +behold his <i>Imoinda</i>; and she despised Grandeur and Pomp, those +Vanities of her Sex, when she could gaze on <i>Oroonoko</i>. He ador’d +the very Cottage where she resided, and said, That little Inch of the +World would give him more Happiness than all the Universe could do; and +she vow’d it was a Palace, while adorned with the Presence of +<i>Oroonoko</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Trefry</i> was infinitely pleased with this Novel, and found this +<i>Clemene</i> was the fair Mistress of whom <i>Cæsar</i> had before +spoke; and was not a little satisfy’d, that Heaven +<span class = "pagenum">174</span> +was so kind to the Prince as to sweeten his Misfortunes by so lucky an +Accident; and leaving the Lovers to themselves, was impatient to come +down to <i>Parham-House</i> (which was on the same Plantation) to give +me an Account of what had happened. I was as impatient to make +these Lovers a Visit, having already made a Friendship with +<i>Cæsar</i>, and from his own Mouth learned what I have related; which +was confirmed by his <i>Frenchman</i>, who was set on shore to seek his +Fortune, and of whom they could not make a Slave, because a Christian; +and he came daily to <i>Parham-Hill</i> to see and pay his Respects to +his Pupil Prince. So that concerning and interesting myself in all that +related to <i>Cæsar</i>, whom I had assured of Liberty <a class = "comm" +name = "oroonoko_commtag3" id = "oroonoko_commtag3" href = +"#oroonoko_comm3">as soon as the Governour arrived</a>, I hasted +presently to the Place where these Lovers were, and was infinitely glad +to find this beautiful young Slave (who had already gain’d all our +Esteems, for her Modesty and extraordinary Prettiness) to be the same I +had heard <i>Cæsar</i> speak so much of. One may imagine then we paid +her a treble Respect; and tho’ from her being carved in fine Flowers and +Birds all over her Body, we took her to be of Quality before, yet when +we knew <i>Clemene</i> was <i>Imoinda</i>, we could not enough admire +her.</p> + +<p>I had forgot to tell you, that those who are nobly born of that +Country, are so delicately cut and raised all over the Fore-part of the +Trunk of their Bodies, that it looks as if it were japan’d, the Works +being raised like high Point round the Edges of the Flowers. Some are +only carved with a little Flower, or Bird, at the Sides of the Temples, +as was <i>Cæsar</i>; and those who are so carved over the Body, resemble +our antient <i>Picts</i> that are figur’d in the Chronicles, but these +Carvings are more delicate.</p> + +<p>From that happy Day <i>Cæsar</i> took <i>Clemene</i> for his Wife, to +the general Joy of all People; and there was as much Magnificence as the +Country could afford at the Celebration of this Wedding: And in a very +short Time after she +<span class = "pagenum">175</span> +conceived with Child, which made <i>Cæsar</i> even adore her, knowing he +was the last of his great Race. This new Accident made him more +impatient of Liberty, and he was every Day treating with <i>Trefrey</i> +for his and <i>Clemene’s</i> Liberty, and offer’d either Gold, or a vast +Quantity of Slaves, which should be paid before they let him go, +provided he could have any Security that he should go when his Ransom +was paid. They fed him from Day to Day with Promises, and delay’d him +till the Lord-Governor should come; so that he began to suspect them of +Falshood, and that they would delay him till the Time of his Wife’s +Delivery, and make a Slave of the Child too; for all the Breed is theirs +to whom the Parents belong. This Thought made him very uneasy, and his +Sullenness gave them some Jealousies of him; so that I was obliged, by +some Persons who fear’d a Mutiny (which is very fatal sometimes in those +Colonies that abound so with Slaves, that they exceed the Whites in vast +Numbers) to discourse with <i>Cæsar</i>, and to give him all the +Satisfaction I possibly could: They knew he and <i>Clemene</i> were +scarce an Hour in a Day from my Lodgings; that they eat with me, and +that I oblig’d them in all Things I was capable. I entertained them +with the Lives of the <i>Romans</i>, and great Men, which charmed him to +my Company; and her, with teaching her all the pretty Works that I was +Mistress of, and telling her Stories of Nuns, and endeavouring to bring +her to the Knowledge of the true God: But of all Discourses, +<i>Cæsar</i> liked that the worst, and would never be reconciled to our +Notions of the Trinity, of which he ever made a Jest; it was a Riddle he +said would turn his Brain to conceive, and one could not make him +understand what Faith was. However, these Conversations fail’d not +altogether so well to divert him, that he liked the Company of us Women +much above the Men, for he could not drink, and he is but an ill +Companion in that Country that cannot. So that obliging him to love us +very well, we had all the Liberty of Speech with him, +<span class = "pagenum">176</span> +especially my self, whom he call’d his <i>Great Mistress</i>; and indeed +my Word would go a great Way with him. For these Reasons I had +Opportunity to take Notice to him, that he was not well pleased of late, +as he used to be; was more retired and thoughtful; and told him, +I took it ill he should suspect we would break our Words with him, +and not permit both him and <i>Clemene</i> to return to his own Kingdom, +which was not so long a Way, but when he was once on his Voyage he would +quickly arrive there. He made me some Answers that shew’d a Doubt in +him, which made me ask, what Advantage it would be to doubt? It would +but give us a Fear of him, and possibly compel us to treat him so as I +should be very loth to behold; that is, it might occasion his +Confinement. Perhaps this was not so luckily spoke of me, for I +perceiv’d he resented that Word, which I strove to soften again in vain: +However, he assur’d me, that whatsoever Resolutions he should take, he +would act nothing upon the <i>White</i> People; and as for myself, and +those upon that <i>Plantation</i> where he was, he would sooner forfeit +his eternal Liberty, and Life itself, than lift his Hand against his +greatest Enemy on that Place. He besought me to suffer no Fears upon his +Account, for he could do nothing that Honour should not dictate; but he +accused himself for having suffer’d Slavery so long; yet he charg’d that +Weakness on Love alone, who was capable of making him neglect even Glory +itself; and, for which, now he reproaches himself every Moment of the +Day. Much more to this Effect he spoke, with an Air impatient enough to +make me know he would not be long in Bondage; and tho’ he suffer’d only +the Name of a Slave, and had nothing of the Toil and Labour of one, yet +that was sufficient to render him uneasy; and he had been too long idle, +who us’d to be always in Action, and in Arms. He had a Spirit all rough +and fierce, and that could not be tam’d to lazy Rest: And tho’ all +Endeavours were us’d to exercise himself in such Actions and Sports as +this +<span class = "pagenum">177</span> +World afforded, as Running, Wrestling, Pitching the Bar, Hunting and +Fishing, Chasing and Killing <i>Tygers</i> of a monstrous Size, which +this Continent affords in abundance; and wonderful <i>Snakes</i>, such +as <i>Alexander</i> is reported to have encounter’d at the River of +<i>Amazons</i>, and which <i>Cæsar</i> took great Delight to overcome; +yet these were not Actions great enough for his large Soul, which was +still panting after more renown’d Actions.</p> + +<p>Before I parted that Day with him, I got, with much ado, +a Promise from him to rest yet a little longer with Patience, and +wait the Coming of the Lord Governour, who was every Day expected on our +Shore: He assur’d me he would, and this Promise he desired me to know +was given perfectly in Complaisance to me, in whom he had an entire +Confidence.</p> + +<p>After this, I neither thought it convenient to trust him much out of +our View, nor did the Country, who fear’d him; but with one Accord it +was advis’d to treat him fairly, and oblige him to remain within such a +Compass, and that he should be permitted, as seldom as could be, to go +up to the Plantations of the <i>Negroes</i>; or, if he did, to be +accompany’d by some that should be rather, in Appearance, Attendants +than Spies. This Care was for some time taken, and <i>Cæsar</i> look’d +upon it as a Mark of extraordinary Respect, and was glad his Discontent +had oblig’d ’em to be more observant to him; he received new Assurance +from the Overseer, which was confirmed to him by the Opinion of all the +Gentlemen of the Country, who made their Court to him. During this Time +that we had his Company more frequently than hitherto we had had, it may +not be unpleasant to relate to you the Diversions we entertain’d him +with, or rather he us.</p> + +<p>My Stay was to be short in that Country; because <a class = "comm" +name = "oroonoko_commtag4" id = "oroonoko_commtag4" href = +"#oroonoko_comm4">my Father dy’d at Sea, and never arriv’d to possess +the Honour design’d him</a>, (which was Lieutenant-General of six and +thirty Islands, besides the Continent of <i>Surinam</i>) nor the +<span class = "pagenum">178</span> +Advantages he hop’d to reap by them: So that though we were oblig’d to +continue on our Voyage, we did not intend to stay upon the Place. +Though, in a Word, I must say thus much of it; That certainly had +his late Majesty, of sacred Memory, but seen and known what a vast and +charming World he had been Master of in that Continent, he would never +have parted so easily with it to the <i>Dutch</i>. ’Tis a Continent, +whose vast Extent was never yet known, and may contain more noble Earth +than all the Universe beside; for, they say, it reaches from East to +West one Way as far as <i>China</i>, and another to <i>Peru</i>: It +affords all Things, both for Beauty and Use; ’tis there eternal Spring, +always the very Months of <i>April</i>, <i>May</i>, and <i>June</i>; the +Shades are perpetual, the Trees bearing at once all Degrees of Leaves, +and Fruit, from blooming Buds to ripe Autumn: Groves of Oranges, Lemons, +Citrons, Figs, Nutmegs, and noble Aromaticks, continually bearing their +Fragrancies: The Trees appearing all like Nosegays, adorn’d with Flowers +of different Kinds; some are all White, some Purple, some Scarlet, some +Blue, some Yellow; bearing at the same Time ripe Fruit, and blooming +young, or producing every Day new. The very Wood of all these Trees has +an intrinsic Value, above common Timber; for they are, when cut, of +different Colours, glorious to behold, and bear a Price considerable, to +inlay withal. Besides this, they yield rich Balm, and Gums; so that we +make our Candles of such an aromatic Substance, as does not only give a +sufficient Light, but as they burn, they cast their Perfumes all about. +Cedar is the common Firing, and all the Houses are built with it. The +very Meat we eat, when set on the Table, if it be native, I mean of +the Country, perfumes the whole Room; especially a little Beast call’d +an <i>Armadillo</i>, a Thing which I can liken to nothing so well +as a <i>Rhinoceros</i>; ’tis all in white Armour, so jointed, that it +moves as well in it, as if it had nothing on: This Beast is about the +Bigness of a Pig of six Weeks +<span class = "pagenum">179</span> +old. But it were endless to give an Account of all the divers wonderful +and strange Things that Country affords, and which we took a great +Delight to go in Search of; tho’ those Adventures are oftentimes fatal, +and at least dangerous: But while we had <i>Cæsar</i> in our Company on +these Designs, we fear’d no Harm, nor suffer’d any.</p> + +<p>As soon as I came into the Country, the best House in it was +presented me, call’d <i>St. John’s Hill</i>: It stood on a vast Rock of +white Marble, at the Foot of which, the River ran a vast Depth down, and +not to be descended on that Side; the little Waves still dashing and +washing the Foot of this Rock, made the softest Murmurs and Purlings in +the World; and the opposite Bank was adorn’d with such vast Quantities +of different Flowers eternally blowing, and every Day and Hour new, +fenc’d behind ’em with lofty Trees of a thousand rare Forms and Colours, +that the Prospect was the most ravishing that Sands can create. On the +Edge of this white Rock, towards the River, was a Walk, or Grove, of +Orange and Lemon-Trees, about half the Length of the <i>Mall</i> here, +whose flowery and Fruit-bearing Branches met at the Top, and hinder’d +the Sun, whose Rays are very fierce there, from entring a Beam into the +Grove; and the cool Air that came from the River, made it not only fit +to entertain People in, at all the hottest Hours of the Day, but refresh +the sweet Blossoms, and made it always sweet and charming; and sure, the +whole Globe of the World cannot shew so delightful a Place as this Grove +was: Not all the Gardens of boasted <i>Italy</i> can produce a Shade to +out-vie this, which Nature had join’d with Art to render so exceeding +fine; and ’tis a Marvel to see how such vast Trees, as big as +<i>English</i> Oaks, could take Footing on so solid a Rock, and in so +little Earth as cover’d that Rock: But all Things by Nature there are +rare, delightful, and wonderful. But to our Sports.</p> + +<p>Sometimes we would go surprising, and in Search of young +<i>Tygers</i> in their Dens, watching when the old ones +<span class = "pagenum">180</span> +went forth to forage for Prey; and oftentimes we have been in great +Danger, and have fled apace for our Lives, when surpriz’d by the Dams. +But once, above all other Times, we went on this Design, and +<i>Cæsar</i> was with us; who had no sooner stoln a young <i>Tyger</i> +from her Nest, but going off, we encounter’d the Dam, bearing a Buttock +of a Cow, which she had torn off with her mighty Paw, and going with it +towards her Den: We had only four Women, <i>Cæsar</i>, and an +<i>English</i> Gentleman, <a class = "comm" name = "oroonoko_commtag5" +id = "oroonoko_commtag5" href = "#oroonoko_comm5">Brother to <i>Harry +Martin</i> the great <i>Oliverian</i></a>; we found there was no +escaping this enraged and ravenous Beast. However, we Women fled as fast +as we could from it; but our Heels had not saved our Lives, if +<i>Cæsar</i> had not laid down her <i>Cub</i>, when he found the +<i>Tyger</i> quit her Prey to make the more Speed towards him; and +taking Mr. <i>Martin’s</i> Sword, desired him to stand aside, or follow +the Ladies. He obey’d him; and <i>Cæsar</i> met this monstrous Beast of +mighty Size, and vast Limbs, who came with open Jaws upon him; and +fixing his aweful stern Eyes full upon those of the Beast, and putting +himself into a very steady and good aiming Posture of Defence, ran his +Sword quite through his Breast, down to his very Heart, home to the Hilt +of the Sword: The dying Beast stretch’d forth her Paw, and going to +grasp his Thigh, surpriz’d with Death in that very Moment, did him no +other Harm than fixing her long Nails in his Flesh very deep, feebly +wounded him, but could not grasp the Flesh to tear off any. When he had +done this, he hallow’d to us to return; which, after some Assurance of +his Victory, we did, and found him lugging out the Sword from the Bosom +of the <i>Tyger</i>, who was laid in her Blood on the Ground. He took up +the <i>Cub</i>, and with an Unconcern that had nothing of the Joy or +Gladness of Victory, he came and laid the Whelp at my Feet. We all +extremely wonder’d at his daring, and at the Bigness of the Beast, which +was about the Height of an Heifer, but of mighty great and strong +Limbs.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">181</span> +<p>Another time, being in the Woods, he kill’d a <i>Tyger</i>, that had +long infested that Part, and borne away abundance of Sheep and Oxen, and +other Things, that were for the Support of those to whom they belong’d. +Abundance of People assail’d this Beast, some affirming they had shot +her with several Bullets quite through the Body at several times; and +some swearing they shot her through the very Heart; and they believed +she was a Devil, rather than a mortal Thing. <i>Cæsar</i> had often +said, he had a Mind to encounter this Monster, and spoke with several +Gentlemen who had attempted her; one crying, I shot her with so +many poison’d Arrows, another with his Gun in this Part of her, and +another in that; so that he remarking all the Places where she was shot, +fancy’d still he should overcome her, by giving her another Sort of a +Wound than any had yet done; and one Day said (at the Table), ‘What +Trophies and Garlands, Ladies, will you make me, if I bring you home the +Heart of this ravenous Beast, that eats up all your Lambs and Pigs?’ We +all promis’d he should be rewarded at our Hands. So taking a Bow, which +he chose out of a great many, he went up into the Wood, with two +Gentlemen, where he imagin’d this Devourer to be. They had not pass’d +very far into it, but they heard her Voice, growling and grumbling, as +if she were pleas’d with something she was doing. When they came in +View, they found her muzzling in the Belly of a new ravish’d Sheep, +which she had torn open; and seeing herself approach’d, she took fast +hold of her Prey with her fore Paws, and set a very fierce raging Look +on <i>Cæsar</i>, without offering to approach him, for Fear at the same +Time of loosing what she had in Possession: So that <i>Cæsar</i> +remain’d a good while, only taking Aim, and getting an Opportunity to +shoot her where he design’d. ’Twas some Time before he could accomplish +it; and to wound her, and not kill her, would but have enrag’d her the +more, and endanger’d him. He had a Quiver of Arrows at his +<span class = "pagenum">182</span> +Side, so that if one fail’d, he could be supply’d: At last, retiring a +little, he gave her Opportunity to eat, for he found she was ravenous, +and fell to as soon as she saw him retire, being more eager of her Prey, +than of doing new Mischiefs; when he going softly to one Side of her, +and hiding his Person behind certain Herbage, that grew high and thick, +he took so good Aim, that, as he intended, he shot her just into the +Eye, and the Arrow was sent with so good a Will, and so sure a Hand, +that it stuck in her Brain, and made her caper, and become mad for a +Moment or two; but being seconded by another Arrow, she fell dead upon +the Prey. <i>Cæsar</i> cut her open with a Knife, to see where those +Wounds were that had been reported to him, and why she did not die of +’em. But I shall now relate a Thing that, possibly, will find no Credit +among Men; because ’tis a Notion commonly receiv’d with us, That nothing +can receive a Wound in the Heart, and live: But when the Heart of this +courageous Animal was taken out, there were seven Bullets of Lead in it, +the Wound seam’d up with great Scars, and she liv’d with the Bullets a +great While, for it was long since they were shot: This Heart the +Conqueror brought up to us, and ’twas a very great Curiosity, which all +the Country came to see; and which gave <i>Cæsar</i> Occasion of many +fine Discourses of Accidents in War, and strange Escapes.</p> + +<p>At other times he would go a Fishing; and discoursing on that +Diversion, he found we had in that Country a very strange Fish, call’d a +<i>Numb-Eel</i>, (an <i>Eel</i> of which I have eaten) that while +it is alive, it has a Quality so cold, that those who are angling, tho’ +with a Line of ever so great a Length, with a Rod at the End of it, it +shall in the same Minute the Bait is touch’d by this <i>Eel</i>, seize +him or her that holds the Rod with a Numbness, that shall deprive ’em of +Sense for a While; and some have fallen into the Water, and others +drop’d, as dead, on the Banks of the Rivers where they stood, as soon as +this Fish touches +<span class = "pagenum">183</span> +the Bait. <i>Cæsar</i> us’d to laugh at this, and believ’d it impossible +a Man could lose his Force at the Touch of a Fish; and could not +understand that Philosophy, that a cold Quality should be of that +Nature; however, he had a great Curiosity to try whether it would have +the same Effect on him it had on others, and often try’d, but in vain. +At last, the sought-for Fish came to the Bait, as he stood angling on +the Bank; and instead of throwing away the Rod, or giving it a sudden +Twitch out of the Water, whereby he might have caught both the +<i>Eel</i>, and have dismiss’d the Rod, before it could have too much +Power over him; for Experiment-sake, he grasp’d it but the harder, and +fainting, fell into the River; and being still possess’d of the Rod, the +Tide carry’d him, senseless as he was, a great Way, till an +<i>Indian</i> Boat took him up; and perceiv’d, when they touch’d him, +a Numbness seize them, and by that knew the Rod was in his Hand; +which with a Paddle, (that is a short Oar) they struck away, and +snatch’d it into the Boat, <i>Eel</i> and all. If <i>Cæsar</i> was +almost dead, with the Effect of this Fish, he was more so with that of +the Water, where he had remain’d the Space of going a League, and they +found they had much ado to bring him back to Life; but at last they did, +and brought him home, where he was in a few Hours well recover’d and +refresh’d, and not a little asham’d to find he should be overcome by an +<i>Eel</i>, and that all the People, who heard his Defiance, would laugh +at him. But we chear’d him up; and he being convinc’d, we had the +<i>Eel</i> at Supper, which was a quarter of an Ell about, and most +delicate Meat; and was of the more Value, since it cost so dear as +almost the Life of so gallant a Man.</p> + +<p>About this Time we were in many mortal Fears, about some Disputes the +<i>English</i> had with the <i>Indians</i>; so that we could scarce +trust our selves, without great Numbers, to go to any <i>Indian</i> +Towns, or Place where they abode, for fear they should fall upon us, as +they did immediately +<span class = "pagenum">184</span> +after my coming away; and the Place being in the Possession of the +<i>Dutch</i>, they us’d them not so civilly as the <i>English</i>; so +that they cut in Pieces all they could take, getting into Houses and +hanging up the Mother, and all her Children about her; and cut a +Footman, I left behind me, all in Joints, and nail’d him to +Trees.</p> + +<p>This Feud began while I was there; so that I lost half the +Satisfaction I propos’d, in not seeing and visiting the <i>Indian</i> +Towns. But one Day, bemoaning of our Misfortunes upon this Account, +<i>Cæsar</i> told us, we need not fear, for if we had a Mind to go, he +would undertake to be our Guard. Some would, but most would not venture: +About eighteen of us resolv’d, and took Barge; and after eight Days, +arriv’d near an <i>Indian</i> Town: But approaching it, the Hearts of +some of our Company fail’d, and they would not venture on Shore; so we +poll’d, who would, and who would not. For my Part, I said, if +<i>Cæsar</i> would, I would go. He resolv’d; so did my Brother, and +my Woman, a Maid of good Courage. Now none of us speaking the +Language of the People, and imagining we should have a half Diversion in +gazing only; and not knowing what they said, we took a Fisherman that +liv’d at the Mouth of the River, who had been a long Inhabitant there, +and oblig’d him to go with us: But because he was known to the +<i>Indians</i>, as trading among ’em, and being, by long living there, +become a perfect <i>Indian</i> in Colour, we, who had a Mind to surprize +’em, by making them see something they never had seen, (that is, +<i>White</i> People) resolv’d only my self, my Brother and Woman should +go: So <i>Cæsar</i>, the Fisherman, and the rest, hiding behind some +thick Reeds and Flowers that grew in the Banks, let us pass on towards +the Town, which was on the Bank of the River all along. A little +distant from the Houses, or Huts, we saw some dancing, others busy’d in +fetching and carrying of Water from the River. They had no sooner spy’d +us, but they set up a loud Cry, that frighted us at +<span class = "pagenum">185</span> +first; we thought it had been for those that should kill us, but it +seems it was of Wonder and Amazement. They were all naked; and we were +dress’d, so as is most commode for the hot Countries, very glittering +and rich; so that we appear’d extremely fine; my own Hair was cut short, +and I had a Taffety Cap, with black Feathers on my Head; my Brother was +in a Stuff-Suit, with Silver Loops and Buttons, and abundance of green +Ribbon. This was all infinitely surprising to them; and because we saw +them stand still till we approach’d ’em, we took Heart and advanc’d, +came up to ’em, and offer’d ’em our Hands; which they took, and look’d +on us round about, calling still for more Company; who came swarming +out, all wondering, and crying out <i>Tepeeme</i>; taking their Hair up +in their Hands, and spreading it wide to those they call’d out to; as if +they would say (as indeed it signify’d) <i>Numberless Wonders</i>, +or not to be recounted, no more than to number the Hair of their Heads. +By Degrees they grew more bold, and from gazing upon us round, they +touch’d us, laying their Hands upon all the Features of our Faces, +feeling our Breasts, and Arms, taking up one Petticoat, then wondering +to see another; admiring our Shoes and Stockings, but more our Garters, +which we gave ’em, and they ty’d about their Legs, being lac’d with +Silver Lace at the Ends; for they much esteem any shining Things. In +fine, we suffer’d ’em to survey us as they pleas’d, and we thought they +would never have done admiring us. When <i>Cæsar</i>, and the rest, saw +we were receiv’d with such Wonder, they came up to us; and finding the +<i>Indian</i> Trader whom they knew, (for ’tis by these Fishermen, +call’d <i>Indian</i> Traders, we hold a Commerce with ’em; for they love +not to go far from home, and we never go to them) when they saw him +therefore, they set up a new Joy, and cry’d in their Language, <i>Oh, +here’s our <em>Tiguamy</em>, and we shall know whether those Things can +speak.</i> So advancing to him, some +<span class = "pagenum">186</span> +of ’em gave him their Hands, and cry’d, <i>Amora Tiguamy</i>; which is +as much as, <i>How do you do?</i> or, <i>Welcome Friend</i>; and all, +with one din, began to gabble to him, and ask’d, if we had Sense and +Wit? If we could talk of Affairs of Life and War, as they could do? If +we could hunt, swim, and do a thousand Things they use? He answer’d ’em, +We could. Then they invited us into their Houses, and dress’d Venison +and Buffalo for us; and going out, gather’d a Leaf of a Tree, called a +<i>Sarumbo</i> Leaf, of six Yards long, and spread it on the Ground for +a Table-Cloth; and cutting another in Pieces, instead of Plates, set us +on little low <i>Indian</i> Stools, which they cut out of one entire +Piece of Wood, and paint in a sort of Japan-Work. They serve every one +their Mess on these Pieces of Leaves; and it was very good, but too +high-season’d with Pepper. When we had eat, my Brother and I took out +our Flutes, and play’d to ’em, which gave ’em new Wonder; and I soon +perceiv’d, by an Admiration that is natural to these People, and by the +extreme Ignorance and Simplicity of ’em, it were not difficult to +establish any unknown or extravagant Religion among them, and to impose +any Notions or Fictions upon ’em. For seeing a Kinsman of mine set some +Paper on Fire with a Burning-Glass, a Trick they had never before +seen, they were like to have ador’d him for a God, and begg’d he would +give ’em the Characters or Figures of his Name, that they might oppose +it against Winds and Storms: which he did, and they held it up in those +Seasons, and fancy’d it had a Charm to conquer them, and kept it like a +holy Relique. They are very superstitious, and call’d him the Great +<i>Peeie</i>, that is, <i>Prophet</i>. They shewed us their <i>Indian +Peeie</i>, a Youth of about sixteen Years old, as handsome as +Nature could make a Man. They consecrate a beautiful Youth from his +Infancy, and all Arts are used to compleat him in the finest Manner, +both in Beauty and Shape: He is bred to all the little Arts and Cunning +they are capable +<span class = "pagenum">187</span> +of; to all the legerdemain Tricks, and Slight of Hand, whereby he +imposes on the Rabble; and is both a Doctor in Physick and Divinity: And +by these Tricks makes the Sick believe he sometimes eases their Pains, +by drawing from the afflicted Part little Serpents, or odd Flies, or +Worms, or any strange Thing; and though they have besides undoubted good +Remedies for almost all their Diseases, they cure the Patient more by +Fancy than by Medicines, and make themselves feared, loved, and +reverenced. This young <i>Peeie</i> had a very young Wife, who seeing my +Brother kiss her, came running and kiss’d me. After this they kiss’d one +another, and made it a very great Jest, it being so novel; and new +Admiration and Laughing went round the Multitude, that they never will +forget that Ceremony, never before us’d or known. <i>Cæsar</i> had a +Mind to see and talk with their War-Captains, and we were conducted to +one of their Houses, where we beheld several of the great Captains, who +had been at Council: But so frightful a Vision it was to see ’em, no +Fancy can create; no sad Dreams can represent so dreadful a Spectacle. +For my Part, I took ’em for Hobgoblins, or Fiends, rather than Men; +But however their Shapes appear’d, their Souls were very humane and +noble; but some wanted their Noses, some their Lips, some both Noses and +Lips, some their Ears, and others cut through each Cheek, with long +Slashes, through which their Teeth appear’d: They had several other +formidable Wounds and Scars, or rather Dismembrings. They had +<i>Comitias</i>, or little Aprons before them; and Girdles of Cotton, +with their Knives naked stuck in it; a Bow at their Back, and a +Quiver of Arrows on their Thighs; and most had Feathers on their Heads +of divers Colours. They cry’d <i>Amora Tiguamy</i> to us, at our +Entrance, and were pleas’d we said as much to them: They seated us, and +gave us Drink of the best Sort, and wonder’d as much as the others had +done before to see us. <i>Cæsar</i> was marvelling +<span class = "pagenum">188</span> +as much at their Faces, wondring how they should be all so wounded in +War; he was impatient to know how they all came by those frightful Marks +of Rage or Malice, rather than Wounds got in noble Battle: They told us +by our Interpreter, That when any War was waging, two Men, chosen out by +some old Captain whose fighting was past, and who could only teach the +Theory of War, were to stand in Competition for the Generalship, or +great War-Captain; and being brought before the old Judges, now past +Labour, they are ask’d, What they dare do, to shew they are worthy to +lead an Army? When he who is first ask’d, making no Reply, cuts off his +Nose, and throws it contemptibly on the Ground; and the other does +something to himself that he thinks surpasses him, and perhaps deprives +himself of Lips and an Eye: So they slash on ’till one gives out, and +many have dy’d in this Debate. And it’s by a passive Valour they shew +and prove their Activity; a sort of Courage too brutal to be +applauded by our <i>Black</i> Hero; nevertheless, he express’d his +Esteem of ’em.</p> + +<p>In this Voyage <i>Cæsar</i> begat so good an Understanding between +the <i>Indians</i> and the <i>English</i>, that there were no more Fears +or Heart-burnings during our Stay, but we had a perfect, open, and free +Trade with ’em. Many Things remarkable, and worthy reciting, we met with +in this short Voyage; because <i>Cæsar</i> made it his Business to +search out and provide for our Entertainment, especially to please his +dearly ador’d <i>Imoinda</i>, who was a Sharer in all our Adventures; we +being resolv’d to make her Chains as easy as we could, and to compliment +the Prince in that Manner that most oblig’d him.</p> + +<p>As we were coming up again, we met with some <i>Indians</i> of +strange Aspects; that is, of a larger Size, and other sort of Features, +than those of our Country. Our <i>Indian Slaves</i>, that row’d us, +ask’d ’em some Questions; but they could not understand us, but shew’d +us a long +<span class = "pagenum">189</span> +Cotton String, with several Knots on it, and told us, they had been +coming from the Mountains so many Moons as there were Knots: they were +habited in Skins of a strange Beast, and brought along with ’em Bags of +Gold-Dust; which, as well as they could give as to understand, came +streaming in little small Channels down the high Mountains, when the +Rains fell; and offer’d to be the Convoy to any Body, or Persons, that +would go to the Mountains. We carry’d these Men up to <i>Parham</i>, +where they were kept till the Lord-Governor came: And because all the +Country was mad to be going on this Golden Adventure, the Governor, by +his Letters, commanded (for they sent some of the Gold to him) that a +Guard should be set at the Mouth of the River of <i>Amazons</i> +(a River so call’d, almost as broad as the River of <i>Thames</i>) +and prohibited all People from going up that River, it conducting to +those Mountains or Gold. But we going off for <i>England</i> before the +Project was further prosecuted, and the Governor being drown’d in a +Hurricane, either the Design died, or the <i>Dutch</i> have the +Advantage of it: And ’tis to be bemoan’d what his Majesty lost, by +losing that Part of <i>America</i>.</p> + +<p>Though this Digression is a little from my Story, however, since it +contains some Proofs of the Curiosity and Daring of this great Man, +I was content to omit nothing of his Character.</p> + +<p>It was thus for some Time we diverted him; but now <i>Imoinda</i> +began to shew she was with Child, and did nothing but sigh and weep for +the Captivity of her Lord, herself, and the Infant yet unborn; and +believ’d, if it were so hard to gain the Liberty of two, ’twould be more +difficult to get that for three. Her Griefs were so many Darts in the +great Heart of <i>Cæsar</i>, and taking his Opportunity, one +<i>Sunday</i>, when all the <i>Whites</i> were overtaken in Drink, as +there were abundance of several Trades, and <i>Slaves</i> for four +Years, that inhabited among the <i>Negro</i> Houses; and <i>Sunday</i> +being their Day of Debauch, (otherwise they were a sort of +<span class = "pagenum">190</span> +Spies upon <i>Cæsar</i>) he went, pretending out of Goodness to ’em, to +feast among ’em, and sent all his Musick, and order’d a great Treat for +the whole Gang, about three hundred <i>Negroes</i>, and about an hundred +and fifty were able to bear Arms, such as they had, which were +sufficient to do Execution, with Spirits accordingly: For the +<i>English</i> had none but rusty Swords, that no Strength could draw +from a Scabbard; except the People of particular Quality, who took Care +to oil ’em, and keep ’em in good Order: The Guns also, unless here and +there one, or those newly carried from <i>England</i>, would do no Good +or Harm; for ’tis the Nature of that Country to rust and eat up Iron, or +any Metals but Gold and Silver. And they are very expert at the Bow, +which the <i>Negroes</i> and <i>Indians</i> are perfect +Masters of.</p> + +<p><i>Cæsar</i>, having singled out these Men from the Women and +Children, made an Harangue to ’em, of the Miseries and Ignominies of +Slavery; counting up all their Toils and Sufferings, under such Loads, +Burdens and Drudgeries, as were fitter for Beasts than Men; senseless +Brutes, than human Souls. He told ’em, it was not for Days, Months or +Years, but for Eternity; there was no End to be of their Misfortunes: +They suffer’d not like Men, who might find a Glory and Fortitude in +Oppression; but like Dogs, that lov’d the Whip and Bell, and fawn’d the +more they were beaten: That they had lost the divine Quality of Men, and +were become insensible Asses, fit only to bear: Nay, worse; an Ass, or +Dog, or Horse, having done his Duty, could lie down in Retreat, and rise +to work again, and while he did his Duty, endur’d no Stripes; but Men, +villanous, senseless Men, such as they, toil’d on all the tedious Week +’till <i>Black Friday</i>; and then, whether they work’d or not, whether +they were faulty or meriting, they, promiscuously, the Innocent with the +Guilty, suffer’d the infamous Whip, the sordid Stripes, from their +Fellow-Slaves, ’till their Blood trickled from all Parts of their Body; +<span class = "pagenum">191</span> +Blood, whose every Drop ought to be revenged with a Life of some of +those Tyrants that impose it. ‘And why (<i>said he</i>) my dear +Friends and Fellow-sufferers, should we be Slaves to an unknown People? +Have they vanquished us nobly in Fight? Have they won us in Honourable +Battle? And are we by the Chance of War become their Slaves? This would +not anger a noble Heart; this would not animate a Soldier’s Soul: No, +but we are bought and sold like Apes or Monkeys, to be the Sport of +Women, Fools and Cowards; and the Support of Rogues and Runagades, that +have abandoned their own Countries for Rapine, Murders, Theft and +Villanies. Do you not hear every Day how they upbraid each other with +Infamy of Life, below the wildest Salvages? And shall we render +Obedience to such a degenerate Race, who have no one human Virtue left, +to distinguish them from the vilest Creatures? Will you, I say, +suffer the Lash from such Hands?’ <i>They all reply’d with one +Accord</i>, ‘No, No, No; <i>Cæsar</i> has spoke like a great Captain, +like a great King.’</p> + +<p>After this he would have proceeded, but was interrupted by a tall +<i>Negro</i>, of some more Quality than the rest, his Name was +<i>Tuscan</i>; who bowing at the Feet of <i>Cæsar</i>, cry’d, ‘My Lord, +we have listen’d with Joy and Attention to what you have said; and, were +we only Men, would follow so great a Leader through the World: But O! +consider we are Husbands and Parents too, and have Things more dear to +us than Life; our Wives and Children, unfit for Travel in those +unpassable Woods, Mountains and Bogs. We have not only difficult Lands +to overcome, but Rivers to wade, and Mountains to encounter; ravenous +Beasts of Prey,’—<i>To this <em>Cæsar</em> reply’d</i>, ‘That +Honour was the first Principle in Nature, that was to be obey’d; but as +no Man would pretend to that, without all the Acts of Virtue, +Compassion, Charity, Love, Justice and Reason, he found it not +inconsistent with that, to take equal Care of their Wives and Children +<span class = "pagenum">192</span> +as they would of themselves; and that he did not design, when he led +them to Freedom, and glorious Liberty, that they should leave that +better Part of themselves to perish by the Hand of the Tyrant’s Whip: +But if there were a Woman among them so degenerate from Love and Virtue, +to chuse Slavery before the Pursuit of her Husband, and with the Hazard +of her Life, to share with him in his Fortunes; that such a one ought to +be abandoned, and left as a Prey to the common Enemy.’</p> + +<p>To which they all agreed—and bowed. After this, he spoke of the +impassable Woods and Rivers; and convinced them, the more Danger the +more Glory. He told them, that he had heard of one <i>Hannibal</i>, +a great Captain, had cut his Way through Mountains of solid Rocks; +and should a few Shrubs oppose them, which they could fire before ’em? +No, ’twas a trifling Excuse to Men resolved to die, or overcome. As for +Bogs, they are with a little Labour filled and harden’d; and the Rivers +could be no Obstacle, since they swam by Nature, at least by Custom, +from the first Hour of their Birth: That when the Children were weary, +they must carry them by Turns, and the Woods and their own Industry +would afford them Food. To this they all assented with Joy.</p> + +<p><i>Tuscan</i> then demanded, what he would do: He said he would +travel towards the Sea, plant a new Colony, and defend it by their +Valour; and when they could find a Ship, either driven by Stress of +Weather, or guided by Providence that Way, they would seize it, and make +it a Prize, till it had transported them to their own Countries: at +least they should be made free in his Kingdom, and be esteem’d as his +Fellow-Sufferers, and Men that had the Courage and the Bravery to +attempt, at least, for Liberty; and if they died in the Attempt, it +would be more brave, than to live in perpetual Slavery.</p> + +<p>They bow’d and kiss’d his Feet at this Resolution, and with one +Accord vow’d to follow him to Death; and that +<span class = "pagenum">193</span> +Night was appointed to begin their March. They made it known to their +Wives, and directed them to tie their Hamocks about their Shoulders, and +under their Arms, like a Scarf and to lead their Children that could go, +and carry those that could not. The Wives, who pay an entire Obedience +to their Husbands, obey’d, and stay’d for ’em where they were appointed: +The Men stay’d but to furnish themselves with what defensive Arms they +could get; and all met at the Rendezvouz, where <i>Cæsar</i> made a new +encouraging Speech to ’em and led ’em out.</p> + +<p>But as they could not march far that Night, on <i>Monday</i> early, +when the Overseers went to call ’em all together, to go to work, they +were extremely surprized, to find not one upon the Place, but all fled +with what Baggage they had. You may imagine this News was not only +suddenly spread all over the Plantation, but soon reached the +neighbouring ones; and we had by Noon about 600 Men, they call the +Militia of the Country, that came to assist us in the Pursuit of the +Fugitives: But never did one see so comical an Army march forth to War. +The Men of any Fashion would not concern themselves, tho’ it were almost +the Common Cause; for such Revoltings are very ill Examples, and have +very fatal Consequences oftentimes, in many Colonies: But they had a +Respect for <i>Cæsar</i>, and all Hands were against the +<i>Parhamites</i> (as they called those of +<i>Parham-Plantation</i>) because they did not in the first Place love +the Lord-Governor; and secondly, they would have it that <i>Cæsar</i> +was ill used, and baffled with: and ’tis not impossible but some of the +best in the Country was of his Council in this Flight, and depriving us +of all the Slaves; so that they of the better sort would not meddle in +the Matter. <a class = "comm" name = "oroonoko_commtag6" id = +"oroonoko_commtag6" href = "#oroonoko_comm6">The Deputy-Governor</a>, of +whom I have had no great Occasion to speak, and who was the most fawning +fair-tongu’d Fellow in the World, and one that pretended the most +Friendship to <i>Cæsar</i>, was now the only violent Man against him; +and though he had nothing, +<span class = "pagenum">194</span> +and so need fear nothing, yet talked and looked bigger than any Man. He +was a Fellow, whose Character is not fit to be mentioned with the worst +of the Slaves: This Fellow would lead his Army forth to meet +<i>Cæsar</i>, or rather to pursue him. Most of their Arms were of those +Sort of cruel Whips they call <i>Cat with nine Tails</i>; some had rusty +useless Guns for Shew; others old Basket Hilts, whose Blades had never +seen the Light in this Age; and others had long Staffs and Clubs. Mr. +<i>Trefry</i> went along, rather to be a Mediator than a Conqueror in +such a Battle; for he foresaw and knew, if by fighting they put the +<i>Negroes</i> into Despair, they were a sort of sullen Fellows, that +would drown or kill themselves before they would yield; and he advis’d +that fair Means was best: But <i>Byam</i> was one that abounded in his +own Wit, and would take his own Measures.</p> + +<p>It was not hard to find these Fugitives; for as they fled, they were +forced to fire and cut the Woods before ’em: So that Night or Day they +pursu’d ’em by the Light they made, and by the Path they had cleared. +But as soon as <i>Cæsar</i> found that he was pursu’d, he put himself in +a Posture of Defence, placing all the Woman and Children in the Rear; +and himself, with <i>Tuscan</i> by his Side, or next to him, all +promising to die or conquer. Encouraged thus, they never stood to +parley, but fell on pell-mell upon the <i>English</i>, and killed some, +and wounded a great many; they having Recourse to their Whips, as the +best of their Weapons. And as they observed no Order, they perplexed the +Enemy so sorely, with lashing ’em in the Eyes; and the Women and +Children seeing their Husbands so treated, being of fearful and cowardly +Dispositions, and hearing the <i>English</i> cry out, <i>Yield and Live! +Yield, and be Pardon’d!</i> they all ran in amongst their Husbands and +Fathers, and hung about them, crying out, <i>Yield! Yield, and leave +<em>Cæsar</em> to their Revenge</i>; that by Degrees the Slaves +abandon’d <i>Cæsar</i>, and left him only +<span class = "pagenum">195</span> +<i>Tuscan</i> and his Heroick <i>Imoinda</i>, who grown as big as she +was, did nevertheless press near her Lord, having a Bow and a Quiver +full of poisoned Arrows, which she managed with such Dexterity, that she +wounded several, and shot the Governor into the Shoulder; of which Wound +he had like to have died, but that an <i>Indian</i> Woman, his Mistress, +sucked the Wound, and cleans’d it from the Venom: But however, he stir’d +not from the Place till he had parly’d with <i>Cæsar</i>, who he found +was resolved to die fighting, and would not be taken; no more would +<i>Tuscan</i> or <i>Imoinda</i>. But he, more thirsting after Revenge of +another Sort, than that of depriving him of Life, now made use of all +his Art of Talking and Dissembling, and besought <i>Cæsar</i> to yield +himself upon Terms which he himself should propose, and should be +sacredly assented to, and kept by him. He told him, It was not that he +any longer fear’d him, or could believe the Force of two Men, and a +young Heroine, could overthrow all them, and with all the Slaves now on +their Side also; but it was the vast Esteem he had for his Person, the +Desire he had to serve so gallant a Man, and to hinder himself from the +Reproach hereafter, of having been the Occasion of the Death of a +Prince, whose Valour and Magnanimity deserved the Empire of the World. +He protested to him, he looked upon his Action as gallant and brave, +however tending to the Prejudice of his Lord and Master, who would by it +have lost so considerable a Number of Slaves; that this Flight of his +should be look’d on as a Heat of Youth, and a Rashness of a too forward +Courage, and an unconsider’d Impatience of Liberty, and no more; and +that he labour’d in vain to accomplish that which they would effectually +perform as soon as any Ship arrived that would touch on his Coast: ‘So +that if you will be pleased (<i>continued he</i>) to surrender +yourself, all imaginable Respect shall be paid you; and your Self, your +Wife and Child, if it be born here, shall depart free out of our Land.’ +But <i>Cæsar</i> would +<span class = "pagenum">196</span> +hear of no Composition; though <i>Byam</i> urged, if he pursued and went +on in his Design, he would inevitably perish, either by great Snakes, +wild Beasts or Hunger; and he ought to have Regard to his Wife, whose +Condition requir’d Ease, and not the Fatigues of tedious Travel, where +she could not be secured from being devoured. But <i>Cæsar</i> told him, +there was no Faith in the White men, or the Gods they ador’d; who +instructed them in Principles so false, that honest Men could not live +amongst them; though no People profess’d so much, none perform’d so +little: That he knew what he had to do when he dealt with Men of Honour; +but with them a Man ought to be eternally on his Guard, and never to eat +and drink with Christians, without his Weapon of Defence in his Hand; +and, for his own Security, never to credit one Word they spoke. As for +the Rashness and Inconsiderateness of his Action, he would confess the +Governor is in the right; and that he was ashamed of what he had done in +endeavouring to make those free, who were by Nature Slaves, poor +wretched Rogues, fit to be used as Christian Tools; Dogs, treacherous +and cowardly, fit for such Masters; and they wanted only but to be +whipped into the Knowledge of the Christian Gods, to be the vilest of +all creeping Things; to learn to worship such Deities as had not Power +to make them just, brave, or honest: In fine, after a thousand Things of +this Nature, not fit here to be recited, he told <i>Byam</i>, He had +rather die, than live upon the same Earth with such Dogs. But +<i>Trefry</i> and <i>Byam</i> pleaded and protested together so much, +that <i>Trefry</i> believing the Governor to mean what he said, and +speaking very cordially himself, generously put himself into +<i>Cæsar’s</i> Hands, and took him aside, and persuaded him, even with +Tears, to live, by surrendring himself, and to name his Conditions. +<i>Cæsar</i> was overcome by his Wit and Reasons, and in Consideration +of <i>Imoinda</i>; and demanding what he desired, and that it should be +ratify’d by their Hands in +<span class = "pagenum">197</span> +Writing, because he had perceived that was the common Way of Contract +between Man and Man amongst the Whites; all this was performed, and +<i>Tuscan’s</i> Pardon was put in, and they surrender’d to the Governor, +who walked peaceably down into the Plantation with them, after giving +Order to bury their Dead. <i>Cæsar</i> was very much toil’d with the +Bustle of the Day, for he had fought like a Fury; and what Mischief was +done, he and <i>Tuscan</i> performed alone; and gave their Enemies a +fatal Proof, that they durst do any Thing, and fear’d no mortal +Force.</p> + +<p>But they were no sooner arrived at the Place where all the Slaves +receive their Punishments of Whipping, but they laid Hands on +<i>Cæsar</i> and <i>Tuscan</i>, faint with Heat and Toil; and surprizing +them, bound them to two several Stakes, and whipped them in a most +deplorable and inhuman Manner, rending the very Flesh from their Bones, +especially <i>Cæsar</i>, who was not perceived to make any Moan, or to +alter his Face, only to roll his Eyes on the faithless Governor, and +those he believed Guilty, with Fierceness and Indignation; and to +complete his Rage, he saw every one of those Slaves who but a few Days +before ador’d him as something more than Mortal, now had a Whip to give +him some Lashes, while he strove not to break his Fetters; tho’ if he +had, it were impossible: but he pronounced a Woe and Revenge from his +Eyes, that darted Fire, which was at once both aweful and terrible to +behold.</p> + +<p>When they thought they were sufficiently revenged on him, they unty’d +him, almost fainting with Loss of Blood, from a thousand Wounds all over +his Body; from which they had rent his Clothes, and led him bleeding and +naked as he was, and loaded him all over with Irons; and then rubb’d his +Wounds, to complete their Cruelty, with <i>Indian</i> Pepper, which had +like to have made him raving mad; and, in this Condition made him so +fast to the Ground, that he could not stir, if his Pains and Wounds +would have given him Leave. They spared <i>Imoinda</i>, and did not let +her see +<span class = "pagenum">198</span> +this Barbarity committed towards her Lord, but carried her down to +<i>Parham</i>, and shut her up; which was not in Kindness to her, but +for Fear she should die with the Sight, or miscarry, and then they +should lose a young Slave, and perhaps the Mother.</p> + +<p>You must know, that when the News was brought on <i>Monday</i> +Morning, that <i>Cæsar</i> had betaken himself to the Woods, and carry’d +with him all the <i>Negroes</i>, we were possess’d with extreme Fear, +which no Persuasions could dissipate, that he would secure himself till +Night, and then would come down and cut all our Throats. This +Apprehension made all the Females of us fly down the River, to be +secured; and while we were away, they acted this Cruelty; for I suppose +I had Authority and Interest enough there, had I suspected any such +Thing, to have prevented it: but we had not gone many Leagues, but the +News overtook us, that <i>Cæsar</i> was taken and whipped liked a common +Slave. We met on the River with Colonel <i>Martin</i>, a Man of +great Gallantry, Wit, and Goodness, and whom I have celebrated in a +Character of <a class = "comm" name = "oroonoko_commtag7" id = +"oroonoko_commtag7" href = "#oroonoko_comm7">my new Comedy</a>, by his +own Name, in Memory of so brave a Man: He was wise and eloquent, and, +from the Fineness of his Parts, bore a great Sway over the Hearts of all +the Colony: He was a Friend to <i>Cæsar</i>, and resented this false +Dealing with him very much. We carried him back to <i>Parham</i>, +thinking to have made an Accommodation; when he came, the first News we +heard, was, That the Governor was dead of a Wound <i>Imoinda</i> had +given him; but it was not so well. But it seems, he would have the +Pleasure of beholding the Revenge he took on <i>Cæsar</i>; and before +the cruel Ceremony was finished, he dropt down; and then they perceived +the Wound he had on his Shoulder was by a venom’d Arrow, which, as I +said, his <i>Indian</i> Mistress healed by sucking the Wound.</p> + +<p>We were no sooner arrived, but we went up to the Plantation to see +<i>Cæsar</i>; whom we found in a very miserable +<span class = "pagenum">199</span> +and unexpressible Condition; and I have a thousand Times admired how he +lived in so much tormenting Pain. We said all Things to him, that +Trouble, Pity and Good-Nature could suggest, protesting our Innocency of +the Fact, and our Abhorrence of such Cruelties; making a thousand +Professions and Services to him, and begging as many Pardons for the +Offenders, till we said so much, that he believed we had no Hand in his +ill Treatment; but told us, He could never pardon <i>Byam</i>; as for +<i>Trefry</i>, he confess’d he saw his Grief and Sorrow for his +Suffering, which he could not hinder, but was like to have been beaten +down by the very Slaves, for speaking in his Defence: But for +<i>Byam</i>, who was their Leader, their Head—and should, by his +Justice and Honour, have been an Example to ’em—for him, he wished +to live to take a dire Revenge of him; and said, <i>It had been well for +him, if he had sacrificed me, instead of giving me the <ins class = +"correction" title = "spelling unchanged">comtemptible</ins> Whip.</i> +He refused to talk much; but begging us to give him our Hands, he took +them, and protested never to lift up his to do us any Harm. He had a +great Respect for Colonel <i>Martin</i>, and always took his Counsel +like that of a Parent; and assured him, he would obey him in any Thing +but his Revenge on <i>Byam</i>: ‘Therefore (<i>said he</i>) for his +own Safety, let him <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged">speedly</ins> dispatch me; for if I could dispatch myself, +I would not, till that Justice were done to my injured Person, and +the Contempt of a Soldier: No, I would not kill myself, even after +a Whipping, but will be content to live with that Infamy, and be pointed +at by every grinning Slave, till I have completed my Revenge; and then +you shall see, that <i>Oroonoko</i> scorns to live with the Indignity +that was put on <i>Cæsar</i>.’ All we could do, could get no more Words +from him; and we took Care to have him put immediately into a healing +Bath, to rid him of his Pepper, and ordered a Chirurgeon to anoint him +with healing Balm, which he suffer’d, and in some Time he began to be +able to walk and eat. We failed not +<span class = "pagenum">200</span> +to visit him every Day, and to that End had him brought to an Apartment +at <i>Parham</i>.</p> + +<p>The Governor had no sooner recover’d, and had heard of the Menaces of +<i>Cæsar</i>, but he called <a class = "comm" name = "oroonoko_commtag8" +id = "oroonoko_commtag8" href = "#oroonoko_comm8">his Council</a>, who +(not to disgrace them, or burlesque the Government there) consisted of +such notorious Villains as <i>Newgate</i> never transported; and, +possibly, originally were such who understood neither the Laws of God or +Man, and had no sort of Principles to make them worthy the Name of Men; +but at the very Council-Table would contradict and fight with one +another, and swear so bloodily, that ’twas terrible to hear and see ’em. +(Some of ’em were afterwards hanged, when the <i>Dutch</i> took +Possession of the Place, others sent off in Chains.) But calling these +special Rulers of the Nation together, and requiring their Counsel in +this weighty Affair, they all concluded, that (damn ’em) it might be +their own Cases; and that <i>Cæsar</i> ought to be made an Example to +all the <i>Negroes</i>, to fright ’em from daring to threaten their +Betters, their Lords and Masters; and at this Rate no Man was safe from +his own Slaves; and concluded, <i>nemine contradicente</i>, That +<i>Cæsar</i> should be hanged.</p> + +<p><i>Trefry</i> then thought it Time to use his Authority, and told +<i>Byam</i>, his Command did not extend to his Lord’s Plantation; and +that <i>Parham</i> was as much exempt from the Law as <i>White-Hall</i>; +and that they ought no more to touch the Servants of the Lord—(who +there represented the King’s Person) than they could those about the +King himself; and that <i>Parham</i> was a Sanctuary; and tho’ his Lord +were absent in Person, his Power was still in being there, which he had +entrusted with him, as far as the Dominions of his particular +Plantations reached, and all that belonged to it; the rest of the +Country, as <i>Byam</i> was Lieutenant to his Lord, he might exercise +his Tyranny upon. <i>Trefry</i> had others as powerful, or more, that +interested themselves in <i>Cæsar’s</i> Life, and absolutely said, he +<span class = "pagenum">201</span> +should be defended. So turning the Governor, and his wise Council, out +of Doors, (for they sat at <i>Parham-House</i>) we set a Guard upon our +Lodging-Place, and would admit none but those we called Friends to us +and <i>Cæsar</i>.</p> + +<p>The Governor having remain’d wounded at <i>Parham</i>, till his +Recovery was completed, <i>Cæsar</i> did not know but he was still +there, and indeed for the most Part, his Time was spent there: for he +was one that loved to live at other Peoples Expence, and if he were a +Day absent, he was ten present there; and us’d to play, and walk, and +hunt, and fish with <i>Cæsar</i>: So that <i>Cæsar</i> did not at all +doubt, if he once recover’d Strength, but he should find an Opportunity +of being revenged on him; though, after such a Revenge, he could not +hope to live: for if he escaped the Fury of the <i>English</i> Mobile, +who perhaps would have been glad of the Occasion to have killed him, he +was resolved not to survive his Whipping; yet he had some tender Hours, +a repenting Softness, which he called his Fits of Cowardice, +wherein he struggled with Love for the Victory of his Heart, which took +Part with his charming <i>Imoinda</i> there; but for the most Part, his +Time was pass’d in melancholy Thoughts, and black Designs. He +consider’d, if he should do this Deed, and die either in the Attempt, or +after it, he left his lovely <i>Imoinda</i> a Prey, or at best a Slave +to the enraged Multitude; his great Heart could not endure that Thought: +<i>Perhaps</i> (said he) <i>she may be first ravish’d by every +Brute; expos’d first to their nasty Lusts, and then a shameful +Death</i>: No, he could not live a Moment under that Apprehension, too +insupportable to be borne. These were his Thoughts, and his silent +Arguments with his Heart, as he told us afterwards: So that now +resolving not only to kill <i>Byam</i>, but all those he thought had +enraged him; pleasing his great Heart with the fancy’d Slaughter he +should make over the whole Face of the Plantation; he first resolved on +a Deed, (that however horrid it first appear’d to us all) when we had +heard his Reasons, we +<span class = "pagenum">202</span> +thought it brave and just. Being able to walk, and, as he believed, fit +for the Execution of his great Design, he begg’d <i>Trefry</i> to trust +him into the Air, believing a Walk would do him good; which was granted +him; and taking <i>Imoinda</i> with him, as he used to do in his more +happy and calmer Days, he led her up into a Wood, where (after with a +thousand Sighs, and long gazing silently on her Face, while Tears +gush’d, in spite of him, from his Eyes) he told her his Design, first of +killing her, and then his Enemies, and next himself, and the +Impossibility of escaping, and therefore he told her the Necessity of +dying. He found the heroick Wife faster pleading for Death, than he was +to propose it, when she found his fix’d Resolution; and, on her Knees, +besought him not to leave her a Prey to his Enemies. He (grieved to +Death) yet pleased at her noble Resolution, took her up, and embracing +of her with all the Passion and Languishment of a dying Lover, drew his +Knife to kill this Treasure of his Soul, this Pleasure of his Eyes; +while Tears trickled down his Cheeks, hers were smiling with Joy she +should die by so noble a Hand, and be sent into her own Country (for +that’s their Notion of the next World) by him she so tenderly loved, and +so truly ador’d in this: For Wives have a Respect for their Husbands +equal to what any other People pay a Deity; and when a Man finds any +Occasion to quit his Wife, if he love her, she dies by his Hand; if not, +he sells her, or suffers some other to kill her. It being thus, you may +believe the Deed was soon resolv’d on; and ’tis not to be doubted, but +the parting, the eternal Leave-taking of two such Lovers, so greatly +born, so sensible, so beautiful, so young, and so fond, must be very +moving, as the Relation of it was to me afterwards.</p> + +<p>All that Love could say in such Cases, being ended, and all the +intermitting Irresolutions being adjusted, the lovely, young and ador’d +Victim lays herself down before the Sacrificer; while he, with a Hand +resolved, and a +<span class = "pagenum">203</span> +Heart-breaking within, gave the fatal Stroke, first cutting her Throat, +and then severing her yet smiling Face from that delicate Body, pregnant +as it was with the Fruits of tenderest Love. As soon as he had done, he +laid the Body decently on Leaves and Flowers, of which he made a Bed, +and conceal’d it under the same Cover-lid of Nature; only her Face he +left yet bare to look on: But when he found she was dead, and past all +Retrieve, never more to bless him with her Eyes, and soft Language, his +Grief swell’d up to Rage; he tore, he rav’d, he roar’d like some Monster +of the Wood, calling on the lov’d Name of <i>Imoinda</i>. A thousand +Times he turned the fatal Knife that did the Deed towards his own Heart, +with a Resolution to go immediately after her; but dire Revenge, which +was now a thousand Times more fierce in his Soul than before, prevents +him; and he would cry out, ‘No, since I have sacrific’d <i>Imoinda</i> +to my Revenge, shall I lose that Glory which I have purchased so dear, +as at the Price of the fairest, dearest, softest Creature that ever +Nature made? No, no!’ Then at her Name Grief would get the Ascendant of +Rage, and he would lie down by her Side, and water her Face with Showers +of Tears, which never were wont to fall from those Eyes; and however +bent he was on his intended Slaughter, he had not Power to stir from the +Sight of this dear Object, now more beloved, and more ador’d than +ever.</p> + +<p>He remained in this deplorable Condition for two Days, and never rose +from the Ground where he had made her sad Sacrifice; at last rouzing +from her Side, and accusing himself with living too long, now +<i>Imoinda</i> was dead, and that the Deaths of those barbarous Enemies +were deferred too long, he resolved now to finish the great Work: but +offering to rise, he found his Strength so decay’d, that he reeled to +and fro, like Boughs assailed by contrary Winds; so that he was forced +to lie down again, and try to summon all his Courage to his Aid. He +found his Brains turned +<span class = "pagenum">204</span> +round, and his Eyes were dizzy, and Objects appear’d not the same to him +they were wont to do; his Breath was short, and all his Limbs surpriz’d +with a Faintness he had never felt before. He had not eat in two Days, +which was one Occasion of his Feebleness, but Excess of Grief was the +greatest; yet still he hoped he should recover Vigour to act his Design, +and lay expecting it yet six Days longer; still mourning over the dead +Idol of his Heart, and striving every Day to rise, but could not.</p> + +<p>In all this time you may believe we were in no little Affliction for +<i>Cæsar</i> and his Wife; some were of Opinion he was escaped, never to +return; others thought some Accident had happened to him: But however, +we fail’d not to send out a hundred People several Ways, to search for +him. A Party of about forty went that Way he took, among whom was +<i>Tuscan</i>, who was perfectly reconciled to <i>Byam</i>: They had not +gone very far into the Wood, but they smelt an unusual Smell, as of a +dead Body; for Stinks must be very noisom, that can be distinguish’d +among such a Quantity of natural Sweets, as every Inch of that Land +produces: so that they concluded they should find him dead, or some body +that was so; they pass’d on towards it, as loathsom as it was, and made +such rustling among the Leaves that lie thick on the Ground, by +continual falling, that <i>Cæsar</i> heard he was approach’d; and though +he had, during the Space of these eight Days, endeavour’d to rise, but +found he wanted Strength, yet looking up, and seeing his Pursuers, he +rose, and reel’d to a neighbouring Tree, against which he fix’d his +Back; and being within a dozen Yards of those that advanc’d and saw him, +he call’d out to them, and bid them approach no nearer, if they would be +safe. So that they stood still, and hardly believing their Eyes, that +would persuade them that it was <i>Cæsar</i> that spoke to them, so much +he was alter’d; they ask’d him, what he had done with his Wife, for they +smelt a Stink that almost struck them dead? He pointing to the +<span class = "pagenum">205</span> +dead Body, sighing, cry’d, <i>Behold her there.</i> They put off the +Flowers that cover’d her, with their Sticks, and found she was kill’d, +and cry’d out, <i>Oh, Monster! that hast murder’d thy Wife.</i> Then +asking him, why he did so cruel a Deed? He reply’d, He had no Leisure to +answer impertinent Questions: ‘You may go back +(<i>continued he</i>) and tell the faithless Governor, he may thank +Fortune that I am breathing my last; and that my Arm is too feeble to +obey my Heart, in what it had design’d him’: But his Tongue faultering, +and trembling, he could scarce end what he was saying. The +<i>English</i> taking Advantage by his Weakness, cry’d, <i>Let us take +him alive by all Means.</i> He heard ’em; and, as if he had reviv’d from +a Fainting, or a Dream, he cried out, ‘No, Gentlemen, you are deceived; +you will find no more <i>Cæsars</i> to be whipt; no more find a Faith in +me; Feeble as you think me, I have Strength yet left to secure me +from a second Indignity.’ They swore all anew; and he only shook his +Head, and beheld them with Scorn. Then they cry’d out, <i>Who will +venture on this single Man? Will nobody?</i> They stood all silent, +while <i>Cæsar</i> replied, <i>Fatal will be the Attempt of the first +Adventurer, let him assure himself</i>, (and, at that Word, held up his +Knife in a menacing Posture:) <i>Look ye, ye faithless Crew</i>, said +he, <i>’tis not Life I seek, nor am I afraid of dying</i>, (and at that +Word, cut a Piece of Flesh from his own Throat, and threw it at ’em) +<i>yet still I would live if I could, till I had perfected my Revenge: +But, oh! it cannot be; I feel Life gliding from my Eyes and Heart; +and if I make not haste, I shall fall a Victim to the shameful +Whip.</i> At that, he rip’d up his own Belly, and took his Bowels and +pull’d ’em out, with what Strength he could; while some, on their Knees +imploring, besought him to hold his Hand. But when they saw him +tottering, they cry’d out, <i>Will none venture on him?</i> A bold +<i>Englishman</i> cry’d, <i>Yes, if he were the Devil</i>, (taking +Courage when he saw him almost dead) and swearing a horrid Oath for his +farewel to the World, he +<span class = "pagenum">206</span> +rush’d on him. <i>Cæsar</i> with his arm’d Hand, met him so fairly, as +stuck him to the Heart, and he Fell dead at his feet. <i>Tuscan</i> +seeing that, cry’d out, <i>I love thee, O <em>Cæsar</em>! and +therefore will not let thee die, if possible</i>; and running to him, +took him in his Arms; but, at the same time, warding a Blow that +<i>Cæsar</i> made at his Bosom, he receiv’d it quite through his Arm; +and <i>Cæsar</i> having not Strength to pluck the Knife forth, tho’ he +attempted it, <i>Tuscan</i> neither pull’d it out himself, nor suffer’d +it to be pull’d out, but came down with it sticking in his Arm; and the +Reason he gave for it, was, because the Air should not get into the +Wound. They put their Hands a-cross, and carry’d <i>Cæsar</i> between +six of ’em, fainting as he was, and they thought dead, or just dying; +and they brought him to <i>Parham</i>, and laid him on a Couch, and had +the Chirurgeon immediately to him, who dressed his Wounds, and sow’d up +his Belly, and us’d Means to bring him to Life, which they effected. We +ran all to see him; and, if before we thought him so beautiful a Sight, +he was now so alter’d, that his Face was like a Death’s-Head black’d +over, nothing but Teeth and Eye-holes: For some Days we suffer’d no Body +to speak to him, but caused Cordials to be poured down his Throat; which +sustained his Life, and in six or seven Days he recovered his Senses: +For, you must know, that Wounds are almost to a Miracle cur’d in the +<i>Indies</i>; unless Wounds in the Legs, which they rarely ever +cure.</p> + +<p>When he was well enough to speak, we talk’d to him, and ask’d him +some Questions about his Wife, and the Reasons why he kill’d her; and he +then told us what I have related of that Resolution, and of his Parting, +and he besought us we would let him die, and was extremely afflicted to +think it was possible he might live: He assur’d us, if we did not +dispatch him, he would prove very fatal to a great many. We said all we +could to make him live, and gave him new Assurances; but he begg’d we +would +<span class = "pagenum">207</span> +not think so poorly of him, or of his Love to <i>Imoinda</i>, to imagine +we could flatter him to Life again: But the Chirurgeon assur’d him he +could not live, and therefore he need not fear. We were all (but +<i>Cæsar</i>) afflicted at this News, and the Sight was ghastly: His +Discourse was sad; and the earthy Smell about him so strong, that I was +persuaded to leave the Place for some time, (being my self but sickly, +and very apt to fall into Fits of dangerous Illness upon any +extraordinary Melancholy.) The Servants, and <i>Trefry</i>, and the +Chirurgeons, promis’d all to take what possible Care they could of the +Life of <i>Cæsar</i>; and I, taking Boat, went with other Company to +Colonel <i>Martin’s</i>, about three Days Journey down the River. But I +was no sooner gone, than the Governor taking <i>Trefry</i>, about some +pretended earnest Business, a Day’s Journey up the River, having +communicated his Design to <a class = "comm" name = "oroonoko_commtag9" +id = "oroonoko_commtag9" href = "#oroonoko_comm9">one +<i>Banister</i></a>, a wild <i>Irish</i> Man, one of the Council, +a Fellow of absolute Barbarity, and fit to execute any Villany, but +rich; he came up to <i>Parham</i>, and forcibly took <i>Cæsar</i>, and +had him carried to the same Post where he was whipp’d; and causing him +to be ty’d to it, and a great Fire made before him, he told him he +should die like a Dog, as he was. <i>Cæsar</i> replied, This was the +first piece of Bravery that ever <i>Banister</i> did, and he never spoke +Sense till he pronounc’d that Word; and if he would keep it, he would +declare, in the other World, that he was the only Man, of all the +<i>Whites</i>, that ever he heard speak Truth. And turning to the Men +that had bound him, he said, <i>My Friends, am I to die, or to be +whipt?</i> And they cry’d, <i>Whipt! no, you shall not escape so +well.</i> And then he reply’d, smiling, <i>A Blessing on thee</i>; +and assur’d them they need not tie him, for he would stand fix’d like a +Rock, and endure Death so as should encourage them to die: <i>But if you +whip me</i> (said he) <i>be sure you tie me fast</i>.</p> + +<p>He had learn’d to take Tobacco; and when he was assur’d he should +die, he desir’d they would give him a +<span class = "pagenum">208</span> +Pipe in his Mouth, ready lighted; which they did: And the Executioner +came, and first cut off his Members, and threw them into the Fire; after +that, with an ill-favour’d Knife, they cut off his Ears and his Nose, +and burn’d them; he still smoak’d on, as if nothing had touch’d him; +then they hack’d off one of his Arms, and still he bore up and held his +Pipe; but at the cutting off the other Arm, his Head sunk, and his Pipe +dropt, and he gave up the Ghost, without a Groan, or a Reproach. My +Mother and Sister were by him all the While, but not suffer’d to save +him; so rude and wild were the Rabble, and so inhuman were the Justices +who stood by to see the Execution, who after paid dear enough for their +Insolence. They cut <i>Cæsar</i> into Quarters, and sent them to several +of the chief Plantations: One Quarter was sent to Colonel <i>Martin</i>; +who refus’d it, and swore, he had rather see the Quarters of +<i>Banister</i>, and the Governor himself, than those of <i>Cæsar</i>, +on his Plantations; and that he could govern his <i>Negroes</i>, without +terrifying and grieving them with frightful Spectacles of a mangled +King.</p> + +<p class = "space"> +Thus died this great Man, worthy of a better Fate, and a more sublime +Wit than mine to write his Praise: Yet, I hope, the Reputation of +my Pen is considerable enough to make his glorious Name to survive to +all Ages, with that of the brave, the beautiful and the constant +<i>Imoinda</i>.</p> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "oroonoko_notes" id = "oroonoko_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +Oroonoko.</h5> + +<span class = "pagenum">524</span> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "app_comm1" id = "app_comm1" href = "#oroonoko_dedic">p. +509</a> +<i>Appendix. Oronooko: Epistle Dedicatory.</i> Richard Maitland, fourth +Earl of Lauderdale (1653-95), eldest son of Charles, third Earl of +Lauderdale by Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Richard Lauder of +Halton, was born 20 June, 1653. Before his father succeeded to the +Lauderdale title he was styled of Over-Gogar; after that event he was +known as Lord Maitland. 9 October, 1678, he was sworn a Privy +Councillor, and appointed Joint General of the Mint with his father. In +1681 he was made Lord Justice General, but deprived of that office three +years later on account of suspected communications with his +father-in-law, Argyll, who had fled to Holland in 1681. Maitland, +however, was in truth a strong Jacobite, and refusing to accept the +Revolution settlement became an exile with his King. He is said to have +been present at the battle of the Boyne, 1 July, 1690. He resided +for some time at St. Germains, but fell into disfavour, perhaps owing to +the well-known protestant sympathies of his wife, Lady Agnes Campbell +(1658-1734), second daughter of the fanatical Archibald, Earl of Argyll. +From St. Germains Maitland retired to Paris, where he died in 1695. He +had succeeded to the Earldom of Lauderdale 9 June, 1691, but was +outlawed by the Court of Justiciary, 23 July, 1694. He left no issue. +Lauderdale was the author of a verse translation of Virgil (8vo, 1718 +and 2 Vols., 12mo, 1737). Dryden, to whom he sent a MS. copy from Paris, +states that whilst working on his own version he consulted this whenever +a crux appeared in the Latin text. Lauderdale also wrote <i>A Memorial +on the Estate of Scotland</i> (about 1690), printed in Hooke’s +<i>Correspondence</i> (Roxburghe Club), and there wrongly ascribed to +the third Earl, his father.</p> + +<p>The Dedication only occurs in the first edition of <i>Oronooko</i> +(1688), of which I can trace but one copy. This is in the library of Mr. +F. F. Norcross of Chicago, whose brother-in-law, Mr. Harold B. +Wrenn, most kindly transcribed and transmitted to me the Epistle +Dedicatory. It, unfortunately, arrived too late for insertion at +p. 129.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum"><i>520</i></span> +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm1" id = "oroonoko_comm1" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag1">p. 130</a> +<i>I gave ’em to the King’s Theatre.</i> Sir Robert Howard and Dryden’s +heroic tragedy, <i>The Indian Queen</i>, was produced at the Theatre +Royal in mid-January, 1663. It is a good play, but the extraordinary +success it attained was in no small measure due to the excellence and +magnificence of the scenic effects and mounting. 27 January, Pepys +noticed that the streets adjacent to the theatre were ‘full of coaches +at the new play <i>The Indian Queen</i>, which for show, they say, +exceeds <i>Henry VIII</i>.’ On 1 February he himself found it ‘indeed a +most pleasant show’. The grandeur of the <i>mise en scène</i> became +long proverbial in theatrical history. Zempoalla, the Indian Queen, +a fine rôle, was superbly acted by Mrs. Marshall, the leading +tragedienne of the day. The feathered ornaments which Mrs. Behn mentions +must have formed a quaint but doubtless striking addition to the +actress’s pseudo-classic attire. Bernbaum pictures ‘Nell Gwynn<a class = +"tag" name = "tag_oroonoko_5" id = "tag_oroonoko_5" href = +"#note_oroonoko_5">5</a> in the true costume of a Carib belle’, +a quite unfair deduction from Mrs. Behn’s words.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">521</span> +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm2" id = "oroonoko_comm2" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag2">p. 168</a> +<i>Osenbrigs.</i> More usually ‘osnaburg’, so named from Osnabrück in +North Germany, a kind of coarse linen made in this town. +Narborough’s Journal, 1669 (<i>An Account of Several Late +Voyages</i>, 1694), speaks of ‘Cloth, Osenbrigs, Tobacco’. cf. +<i>Pennsylvania Col. Records</i> (1732): ‘That to each there be given a +couple of Shirts, a Jackett, two pairs of trowsers of +Oznabrigs.’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm3" id = "oroonoko_comm3" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag3">p. 174</a> +<i>as soon as the Governour arrived</i>. The Governor was Francis +Willoughby, fifth Baron Willoughby of Parham (1613?-1666). He had +arrived at Barbadoes, 29 April, 1650, and was received as Governor 7 +May, which same day he caused Charles II to be proclaimed. An ardent +royalist, he was dispossessed by an Act of Parliament, 4 March, +1652, and summoned back to England. At the Restoration he was +reinstated, and arrived the second time with full powers in <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘Barbardoes’">Barbadoes</ins>, 10 +August, 1663. About the end of July, 1666, he was lost at sea on board +the good ship <i>Hope</i>.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm4" id = "oroonoko_comm4" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag4">p. 177</a> +<i>my Father . . . never arriv’d to possess the Honour design’d him.</i> +Bernbaum, following the mistaken statement that Mrs. Behn’s father, John +Amis, was a barber, argues that a man in such a position could hardly +have obtained so important a post, and if her ‘father was not sent to +Surinam, the only reason she gives for being there disappears.’ However, +since we know her father to have been no barber, but of good family, +this line of discussion falls to the ground.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm5" id = "oroonoko_comm5" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag5">p. 180</a> +<i>Brother to Harry Martin the great Oliverian.</i> Henry, or Harry, and +George Marten were the two sons of Sir Henry Marten (<i>ob.</i> 1641) +and his first wife, Elizabeth, who died 19 June, 1618. For the elder +brother, Henry Marten, (1602-80), see note Vol. I, p. 457. +<a class = "crossref" href = "#oroonoko_crossref5"> +Cross-reference: Note from Volume I</a></p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm6" id = "oroonoko_comm6" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag6">p. 193</a> +<i>The Deputy Governor.</i> William Byam was ‘Lieutenant General of +Guiana and Governor of Willoughby Land’, 1661-7. Even previously to this +he had gained no little influence and power in these colonies. He headed +the forces that defended Surinam in 1667 against the Dutch Admiral +Crynsens, who, however, proved victorious.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm7" id = "oroonoko_comm7" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag7">p. 198</a> +<i>my new Comedy. The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt</i>, +posthumously produced under the auspices of, and with some alterations +by, Charles Gildon at Drury Lane in 1696. George Marteen, acted by +Powell, is the young and gallant hero of the comedy.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm8" id = "oroonoko_comm8" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag8">p. 200</a> +<i>his Council</i>. In <i>The Widow Ranter</i> Mrs. Behn draws a vivid +picture of these deboshed ruffians.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "oroonoko_comm9" id = "oroonoko_comm9" href = +"#oroonoko_commtag9">p. 207</a> +<i>one Banister</i>. Sergeant Major James Banister being, after Byam’s +departure in 1667, ‘the only remaining eminent person’ became +Lieutenant-Governor. It was he who in 1668 made the final surrender of +the colony. Later, having quarrelled with the Dutch he was imprisoned by +them.</p> + +<p class = "footnote"> +<a class = "tag" name = "note_oroonoko_5" id = "note_oroonoko_5" href = +"#tag_oroonoko_5">5</a> +Nell Gwynne had no part in the play.</p> + +</div> + +<div class = "crossref"> +<h5><a name = "oroonoko_crossref5" id = "oroonoko_crossref5"> +Cross-Reference</a></h5> + +<p><a href = "#oroonoko_comm5">Note to p. 180</a>: +For the elder brother, Henry Marten, (1602-80), see note +Vol. I, p. 457.</p> + +<p>Vol. I, p. 457 note (referring to <i>The Roundheads</i>, v, +<span class = "smallroman">II</span>):</p> + +<p class = "inset"> +p. 414 <i>Peters the first</i>, <i>Martin the Second</i>. Hugh Peters +has been noticed before. Henry Martin was an extreme republican, and at +one time even a Leveller. He was a commissioner of the High Court of +Justice and a regicide. At the Restoration he was imprisoned for life +and died at Chepstow Castle, <ins class = "correction" title = +"date in original">1681</ins>, aged seventy-eight. He was notorious for +profligacy and shamelessness, and kept a very seraglio of +mistresses.</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">209</span> +<a name = "agnes_castro" id = "agnes_castro"> </a> + + +<h3>AGNES DE CASTRO.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">211</span> + +<h4><a name = "agnes_intro" id = "agnes_intro"> +INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">The</span> ‘sweet sentimental tragedy’ of +Agnes de Castro was founded by Mrs. Behn upon a work by Mlle S. B. +de Brillac, <i>Agnès de Castro, nouvelle portugaise</i> (1688), and +various subsequent editions. In the same year (1688) as Mrs. Behn’s +<i>Agnes de Castro; or, The Force of Generous Blood</i> was published +there appeared ‘Two New Novels, i. <i>The Art of Making Love</i>.<a +class = "tag" name = "tag_agnes_1" id = "tag_agnes_1" href = +"#note_agnes_1">1</a> ii. <i>The Fatal Beauty of Agnes de +Castro</i>: Taken out of the History of Portugal. Translated from the +French by P. B. G.<a class = "tag" name = "tag_agnes_2" id = +"tag_agnes_2" href = "#note_agnes_2">2</a> For R. Bentley’ (12mo). +Each has a separate title page. Bellon’s version does not differ +materially from Mrs. Behn, but she far exceeds him in spirit and +niceness of style.</p> + +<p>So much legend has surrounded the romantic history of the beautiful +Ines de Castro that it is impossible fully to elucidate every detail of +her life. Born in the early years of the fourteenth century, she was the +daughter of Pedro Fernandez de Castro, major domo to Alphonso XI of +Castille. She accompanied her relative, Dona Constança Manuel, daughter +to the Duke of Peñafiel, to the court of Alphonso IV of Portugal when +this lady was to wed the Infante Don Pedro. Here Ines excited the +fondest love in Pedro’s heart and the passion was reciprocated. She bore +him several children, and there can be no doubt that Dona Constança was +madly jealous of her husband’s amour with her fair friend. 13 November, +1345, Constança died, and Pedro immediately married his mistress at +Braganza in the presence of the Bishop of Guarda. Their nuptials were +kept secret, and the old King kept pressing his son to take a wife. +Before long his spies found out the reason of the Infante’s constant +refusals; and, beside himself with rage, he watched an opportunity +whilst Pedro, on a great hunting expedition, was absent from Coimbra +where they resided, and had Ines cruelly assassinated 7 January, 1355. +The grief of Pedro was terrible, he plunged the country into civil war, +and it was only by the tenderest solicitations of his mother and the +authority of several holy monks and bishops that he was restrained from +taking a terrible revenge upon his father. Alphonso died, his power +curtailed, his end unhappy, May, 1357.</p> + +<p>A very literature has grown up around the lovely Ines, and many more +than a hundred items of interest could be enumerated. The best authority +is J. de Araujo, whose monumental <i>Bibliographia Inesiana</i> was +published in 1897. Mrs. Behn’s novel was immensely popular and is +included, with some +<span class = "pagenum">212</span> +unnecessary moral observations as preface, in Mrs. Griffith’s <i>A +Collection of Novels</i> (1777), Vol. III, which has a plate +illustrating the tale. It was turned into French by +Marie-Geneviève-Charlotte Tiroux d’ Arconville (1720-1805), wife of a +councillor of the Parliament, an <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged">aimable</ins> blue-stocking who devoted her life +wholly to literature, and translated freely from English. This work is +to be found in <i>Romans (les deux premiers . . . tirés des +Lettres Persanes . . . par M. Littleton et le dernier +. . . d’un Recueil de Romans . . . de Madame Behn) +traduits de l’ Anglois</i>, (Amsterdam, 1761.) It occurs again in +<i>Mélanges de Litterature</i> (12mo, 1775, etc.), Vol. VI.</p> + +<p>A tragedy, <i>Agnes de Castro</i>, written by that philosophical +lady, Catherine Trotter (afterwards Cockburn), at the early age of +sixteen, and produced at the Theatre Royal, 1696, with Powell, +Verbruggen, Mrs. Rogers in the principal parts, is directly founded upon +Mrs. Behn. It is a mediocre play, and the same can even more truly be +said of Mallet’s cold <i>Elvira</i> (1763). This was acted, however, +with fair success thirteen times. Garrick played Don Pedro, his last +original part, and Mrs. Cibber Elvira. Such dull exercises as +C. Symmons, <i>Inez, a tragedy</i> (1796), and <i>Ignez de +Castro</i>, a tragedy in verse, intended for <i>Hoad’s Magazine</i> +call for no comment.</p> + +<p>There is a French play by Lamotte on the subject of Ines de Castro, +which was first produced 6 April, 1723. Voltaire found the first four +acts execrable and laughed consumedly. The fifth was so tender and true +that he melted into tears. In Italian we have, from the pen of +Bertoletti, <i>Inez de Castro</i>, tragedia, Milano, 1826.</p> + +<p>In Spanish and Portuguese there are, of course, innumerable poems, +treaties, tragedies, studies, romances. Lope de Vega wrote <i>Dona Inez +de Castro</i>, and the beautiful episode of Camoens is deservedly +famous. Antonio Ferreira’s splendid tragedy is well known. First +published in <i>Comedias Famosas dos Doctores de Sa de Mirande</i> (4to, +1622), it can also be read in <i>Poemas lusitanos</i> (2 Vols., +8vo, Lisbon, 1771). Domingo dos Reis Quita wrote a drama, <i>Ignez de +Castro</i>, a translation of which, by Benjamin Thompson, was +published in 1800. There is also a play <i>Dona Ignez de Castro</i>, by +Nicolas Luiz, which was Englished by John Adamson, whose version was +printed at Newcastle, 1808.</p> + +<div class = "footnote"> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_agnes_1" id = "note_agnes_1" href = +"#tag_agnes_1">1</a> +Mr. Arundell Esdaile in his <i>Bibliography of Fiction</i> (<i>printed +before 1740</i>) erroneously identifies this amusing little piece with +Mrs. Behn’s <i>The Lover’s Watch</i>. It is, however, quite another +thing, dealing with a pseudo-Turkish language of love.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_agnes_2" id = "note_agnes_2" href = +"#tag_agnes_2">2</a> +i.e., Peter Bellon, Gent. Bellon was an assiduous hackney writer and +translator of the day. He has also left one comedy, <i>The Mock +Duellist; or, The French Valet</i> (4to, 1675).</p> +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">213</span> + +<h4><a name = "agnes_main" id = "agnes_main"> +THE HISTORY OF</a><br> +<i>AGNES de CASTRO</i>.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">Tho’</span> Love, all soft and flattering, +promises nothing but Pleasures; yet its Consequences are often sad and +fatal. It is not enough to be in love, to be happy; since Fortune, who +is capricious, and takes delight to trouble the Repose of the most +elevated and virtuous, has very little respect for passionate and tender +Hearts, when she designs to produce strange Adventures.</p> + +<p>Many Examples of past Ages render this Maxim certain; but the Reign +of <i>Don Alphonso</i> the IVth, King of <i>Portugal</i>, furnishes us +with one, the most extraordinary that History can produce.</p> + +<p>He was the Son of that <i>Don Denis</i>, who was so successful in all +his Undertakings, that it was said of him, that he was capable of +performing whatever he design’d, (and of <i>Isabella</i>, +a Princess of eminent Virtue) who when he came to inherit a +flourishing and tranquil State, endeavour’d to establish Peace and +Plenty in abundance in his Kingdom.</p> + +<p>And to advance this his Design, he agreed on a Marriage between his +Son <i>Don Pedro</i> (then about eight Years of Age) and <i>Bianca</i>, +Daughter of <i>Don Pedro</i>, King of <i>Castile</i>; and whom the young +Prince married when he arriv’d to his sixteenth Year.</p> + +<p><i>Bianca</i> brought nothing to <i>Coimbra</i> but Infirmities and +very few Charms. <i>Don Pedro</i>, who was full of Sweetness and +Generosity, lived nevertheless very well with her; but those Distempers +of the Princess degenerating into the Palsy, she made it her request to +retire, and at her Intercession the Pope broke the Marriage, and the +melancholy +<span class = "pagenum">214</span> +Princess conceal’d her Languishment in a solitary Retreat: And <i>Don +Pedro</i>, for whom they had provided another Match, married +<i>Constantia Manuel</i>, Daughter of <i>Don John Manuel</i>, +a Prince of the Blood of <i>Castile</i>, and famous for the Enmity +he had to his King.</p> + +<p><i>Constantia</i> was promised to the King of <i>Castile</i>; but the +King not keeping his word, they made no Difficulty of bestowing her on a +young Prince, who was one Day to reign over a number of fine Provinces. +He was but five and twenty years of Age, and the Man of all <i>Spain</i> +that had the best Fashion and Grace: and with the most advantageous +Qualities of the Body he possest those of the Soul, and shewed himself +worthy in all things of the Crown that was destin’d for him.</p> + +<p>The Princess <i>Constantia</i> had Beauty, Wit, and Generosity, in as +great a measure as ’twas possible for a Woman to be possest with; her +Merit alone ought to have attach’d <i>Don Pedro</i>, eternally to her; +and certainly he had for her an Esteem, mix’d with so great a Respect, +as might very well pass for Love with those that were not of a nice and +curious Observation: but alas! his real Care was reserved for another +Beauty.</p> + +<p><i>Constantia</i> brought into the World, the first Year after her +Marriage, a Son, who was called <i>Don Louis</i>: but it scarce saw +the Light, and dy’d almost as soon as born. The loss of this little +Prince sensibly touched her, but the Coldness she observ’d in the Prince +her Husband, went yet nearer her Heart; for she had given her self +absolutely up to her Duty, and had made her Tenderness for him her only +Concern: But puissant Glory, which ty’d her so entirely to the Interest +of the Prince of <i>Portugal</i>, open’d her Eyes upon his Actions, +where she observ’d nothing in his Caresses and Civilities that was +natural, or could satisfy her delicate Heart.</p> + +<p>At first she fancy’d her self deceiv’d, but time having confirmed her +in what she fear’d, she sighed in secret; +<span class = "pagenum">215</span> +yet had that Consideration for the Prince, as not to let him see her +Disorder: and which nevertheless she could not conceal from <i>Agnes de +Castro</i>, who lived with her, rather as a Companion, than a Maid of +Honour, and whom her Friendship made her infinitely distinguish from the +rest.</p> + +<p>This Maid, so dear to the Princess, very well merited the Preference +her Mistress gave her; she was beautiful to excess, wise, discreet, +witty, and had more Tenderness for <i>Constantia</i> than she had for +her self, having quitted her Family, which was illustrious, to give her +self wholly to the Service of the Princess, and to follow her into +<i>Portugal</i>. It was into the Bosom of this Maid, that the Princess +unladed her first Moans; and the charming <i>Agnes</i> forgot nothing +that might give ease to her afflicted Heart.</p> + +<p>Nor was <i>Constantia</i> the only Person who complained of <i>Don +Pedro</i>: Before his Divorce from <i>Bianca</i>, he had expressed some +Care and Tenderness for <i>Elvira Gonzales</i>, Sister to Don <i>Alvaro +Gonzales</i>, Favourite to the King of <i>Portugal</i>; and this +Amusement in the young Years of the Prince, had made a deep Impression +on <i>Elvira</i>, who flatter’d her Ambition with the Infirmities of +<i>Bianca</i>. She saw, with a secret Rage, <i>Constantia</i> take her +place, who was possest with such Charms, that quite divested her of all +Hopes.</p> + +<p>Her Jealousy left her not idle, she examined all the Actions of the +Prince, and easily discover’d the little Regard he had for the Princess; +but this brought him not back to her. And it was upon very good grounds +that she suspected him to be in love with some other Person, and +possessed with a new Passion; and which she promised herself, she would +destroy as soon as she could find it out. She had a Spirit altogether +proper for bold and hazardous Enterprizes; and the Credit of her Brother +gave her so much Vanity, as all the Indifference of the Prince was not +capable of humbling.</p> + +<p>The Prince languished, and concealed the Cause with so much Care, +that ’twas impossible for any to find it out. +<span class = "pagenum">216</span> +No publick Pleasures were agreeable to him, and all Conversations were +tedious; and it was Solitude alone that was able to give him any +ease.</p> + +<p>This Change surprized all the World. The King, who loved his Son very +tenderly, earnestly pressed him to know the Reason of his Melancholy; +but the Prince made no answer, but only this, That it was the effect of +his Temper.</p> + +<p>But Time ran on, and the Princess was brought to bed of a second Son, +who liv’d, and was called <i>Fernando</i>. <i>Don Pedro</i> forc’d +himself a little to take part in the publick Joy, so that they believ’d +his Humour was changing; but this Appearance of a Calm endur’d not long, +and he fell back again into his black Melancholy.</p> + +<p>The artful <i>Elvira</i> was incessantly agitated in searching out +the Knowledge of this Secret. Chance wrought for her; and, as she was +walking, full of Indignation and Anger, in the Garden of the Palace of +<i>Coimbra</i>, she found the Prince of <i>Portugal</i> sleeping in an +obscure Grotto.</p> + +<p>Her Fury could not contain it self at the sight of this loved Object, +she roll’d her Eyes upon him, and perceived in spite of Sleep, that some +Tears escaped his Eyes; the Flame which burnt yet in her Heart, soon +grew soft and tender there: But oh! she heard him sigh, and after that +utter these words, <i>Yes, Divine <em>Agnes</em>, I will sooner die than +let you know it: <em>Constantia</em> shall have nothing to reproach me +with.</i> <i>Elvira</i> was enraged at this Discourse, which represented +to her immediately, the same moment, <i>Agnes de Castro</i> with all her +Charms; and not at all doubting, but it was she who possest the Heart of +<i>Don Pedro</i>, she found in her Soul more Hatred for this fair Rival, +than Tenderness for him.</p> + +<p>The Grotto was not a fit Place to make Reflections in, or to form +Designs. Perhaps her first Transports would have made her waken him, if +<ins class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘see’">she</ins> had not +perceived a Paper lying under his Hand, which she softly seiz’d on; and +that she might not be surprized in the reading it, she went out of the +Garden with as much haste as confusion.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">217</span> +<p>When she was retired to her Apartment, she open’d the Paper, +trembling, and found in it these Verses, writ by the Hand of <i>Don +Pedro</i>; and which, in appearance, he had newly then compos’d.</p> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>In vain, Oh! Sacred Honour, you debate</p> +<p class = "indent">The mighty Business in my Heart:</p> +<p>Love! Charming Love! rules all my Fate;</p> +<p class = "indent">Interest and Glory claim no part.</p> +<p>The God, sure of his Victory, triumphs there,</p> +<p>And will have nothing in his Empire share.</p> + +<p class = "stanza"> +In vain, Oh! Sacred Duty, you oppose;</p> +<p class = "indent">In vain, your Nuptial Tye you plead:</p> +<p>Those forc’d Devoirs LOVE overthrows,</p> +<p class = "indent">And breaks the Vows he never made.</p> +<p>Fixing his fatal Arrows every where,</p> +<p>I burn and languish in a soft Despair.</p> + +<p class = "stanza"> +Fair Princess, you to whom my Faith is due;</p> +<p class = "indent">Pardon the Destiny that drags me on:</p> +<p>’Tis not my fault my Heart’s untrue,</p> +<p class = "indent">I am compell’d to be undone.</p> +<p>My Life is yours, I gave it with my Hand,</p> +<p>But my Fidelity I can’t command.</p> +</div> + +<p><i>Elvira</i> did not only know the Writing of <i>Don Pedro</i>, but +she knew also that he could write Verses. And seeing the sad Part which +<i>Constantia</i> had in these which were now fallen into her hands, she +made no scruple of resolving to let the Princess see ’em: but that she +might not be suspected, she took care not to appear in this Business her +self; and since it was not enough for <i>Constantia</i> to know that the +Prince did not love her, but that she must know also that he was a Slave +to <i>Agnes de Castro</i>, <i>Elvira</i> caused these few Verses to be +written in an unknown Hand, under those writ by the Prince.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">218</span> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>Sleep betrayed th’ unhappy Lover,</p> +<p class = "indent">While Tears were streaming from his Eyes;</p> +<p>His heedless Tongue without disguise,</p> +<p class = "indent">The Secret did discover:</p> +<p>The Language of his Heart declare,</p> +<p>That <em>Agnes’</em> Image triumphs there.</p> +</div> + +<p><i>Elvira</i> regarded neither Exactness nor Grace in these Lines: +And if they had but the effect she design’d, she wished no more.</p> + +<p>Her Impatience could not wait till the next day to expose them: she +therefore went immediately to the Lodgings of the Princess, who was then +walking in the Garden of the Palace; and passing without resistance, +even to her Cabinet, she put the Paper into a Book, in which the +Princess used to read, and went out again unseen, and satisfy’d with her +good Fortune.</p> + +<p>As soon as <i>Constantia</i> was return’d, she enter’d into her +Cabinet, and saw the Book open, and the Verses lying in it, which were +to cost her so dear: She soon knew the Hand of the Prince which was so +familiar to her; and besides the Information of what she had always +fear’d, she understood it was <i>Agnes de Castro</i> (whose Friendship +alone was able to comfort her in her Misfortunes) who was the fatal +Cause of it: she read over the Paper an hundred times, desiring to give +her Eyes and Reason the Lye; but finding but too plainly she was not +deceiv’d, she found her Soul possest with more Grief than Anger: when +she consider’d, as much in love as the Prince was, he had kept his +Torment secret. After having made her moan, without condemning him, the +Tenderness she had for him, made her shed a Torrent of Tears, and +inspir’d her with a Resolution of concealing her Resentment.</p> + +<p>She would certainly have done it by a Virtue extraordinary, if the +Prince, who missing his Verses when he waked, and fearing they might +fall into indiscreet Hands, had not +<span class = "pagenum">219</span> +enter’d the Palace, all troubled with his Loss; and hastily going into +<i>Constantia’s</i> Apartment, saw her fair Eyes all wet with Tears, and +at the same instant cast his own on the unhappy Verses that had escaped +from his Soul, and now lay before the Princess.</p> + +<p>He immediately turned pale at this sight, and appear’d so mov’d, that +the generous Princess felt more Pain than he did: ‘Madam, <i>said +he</i>, (infinitely alarm’d) from whom had you that Paper? It cannot +come but from the Hand of some Person, <i>answer’d</i> Constantia, who +is an Enemy both to your Repose and mine. It is the Work, Sir, of your +own Hand; and doubtless the Sentiment of your Heart. But be not +surprized, and do not fear; for if my Tenderness should make it pass for +a Crime in you, the same Tenderness which nothing is able to alter, +shall hinder me from complaining.’</p> + +<p>The Moderation and Calmness of <i>Constantia</i>, served only to +render the Prince more asham’d and confus’d. <i>How generous are you, +Madam</i>, (pursu’d he) <i>and how unfortunate am I!</i> Some Tears +accompany’d his Words, and the Princess, who lov’d him with extreme +Ardour, was so sensibly touch’d, that it was a good while before she +could utter a word. <i>Constantia</i> then broke silence, and shewing +him what <i>Elvira</i> had caus’d to be written: <i>You are betray’d, +Sir</i>, (added she) <i>you have been heard speak, and your Secret is +known.</i> It was at this very moment that all the Forces of the Prince +abandon’d him; and his Condition was really worthy Compassion: He could +not pardon himself the involuntary Crime he had committed, in exposing +of the lovely and the innocent <i>Agnes</i>. And tho’ he was convinced +of the Virtue and Goodness of <i>Constantia</i>, the Apprehensions that +he had, that this modest and prudent Maid might suffer by his Conduct, +carry’d him beyond all Consideration.</p> + +<p>The Princess, who heedfully survey’d him, saw so many Marks of +Despair in his Face and Eyes, that she was afraid of the Consequences; +and holding out her Hand, in a very +<span class = "pagenum">220</span> +obliging manner to him, she said, ‘I promise you, Sir, I will +never more complain of you, and that <i>Agnes</i> shall always be very +dear to me; you shall never hear me make you any Reproaches: And since I +cannot possess your Heart, I will content myself with endeavouring +to render myself worthy of it.’ <i>Don Pedro</i>, more confus’d and +dejected than before he had been, bent one of his Knees at the feet of +<i>Constantia</i>, and with respect kiss’d that fair kind Hand she had +given him, and perhaps forgot <i>Agnes</i> for a moment.</p> + +<p>But Love soon put a stop to all the little Advances of <i>Hymen</i>; +the fatal Star that presided over the Destiny of <i>Don Pedro</i> had +not yet vented its Malignity; and one moment’s sight of <i>Agnes</i> +gave new Force to his Passion.</p> + +<p>The Wishes and Desires of this charming Maid had no part in this +Victory; her Eyes were just, tho’ penetrating, and they searched not in +those of the Prince, what they had a desire to discover to her.</p> + +<p>As she was never far from <i>Constantia</i>, <i>Don Pedro</i> was no +sooner gone out of the Closet, but <i>Agnes</i> enter’d; and finding the +Princess all pale and languishing in her Chair, she doubted not but +there was some sufficient Cause for her Affliction: she put herself in +the same Posture the Prince had been in before, and expressing an +Inquietude, full of Concern; ‘Madam, <i>said she</i>, by all your +Goodness, conceal not from me the Cause of your Trouble. Alas, +<i>Agnes</i>, <i>reply’d the Princess</i>, what would you know? And what +should I tell you? The Prince, the Prince, my dearest Maid, is in love; +the Hand that he gave me, was not a Present of his Heart; and for the +Advantage of this Alliance, I must become the Victim of +it—What! the Prince in Love! (<i>reply’d <em>Agnes</em>, with an +Astonishment mix’d with Indignation</i>) What Beauty can dispute the +Empire over a Heart so much your due? Alas, Madam, all the Respect I owe +him, cannot hinder me from murmuring against him. Accuse him of nothing, +(<i>interrupted <em>Constantia</em></i>) he does what he can; and I am +more oblig’d +<span class = "pagenum">221</span> +to him for desiring to be faithful, than if I possest his real +Tenderness. It is not enough to fight, but to overcome; and the Prince +does more in the Condition wherein he is, than I ought reasonably to +hope for: In fine, he is my Husband, and an agreeable one; to whom +nothing is wanting, but what I cannot inspire; that is, a Passion +which would have made me but too happy. Ah! Madam, (<i>cry’d out +<em>Agnes</em>, transported with her Tenderness for the Princess</i>) he +is a blind and stupid Prince, who knows not the precious Advantages he +possesses. He must surely know something, (<i>reply’d the Princess +modestly.</i>) But, Madam, (<i>reply’d <em>Agnes</em></i>) Is there any +thing, not only in <i>Portugal</i>, but in all <i>Spain</i>, that can +compare with you? And without considering the charming <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘Qualites’">Qualities</ins> of your +Person, can we enough admire those of your Soul? My dear <i>Agnes</i>, +(<i>interrupted <em>Constantia</em>, sighing</i>) she who robs me of my +Husband’s Heart, has but too many Charms to plead his Excuse; since it +is thou, Child, whom Fortune makes use of, to give me the killing Blow. +Yes, <i>Agnes</i>, the Prince loves thee; and the Merit I know thou art +possest of, puts bounds to my Complaints, without suffering me to have +the least Resentment.’</p> + +<p>The delicate <i>Agnes</i> little expected to hear what the Princess +told her: Thunder would have less surpriz’d, and less oppres’d her. She +remain’d a long time without speaking; but at last, fixing her Looks all +frightful on <i>Constantia</i>, ‘What say you, Madam? (<i>cry’d she</i>) +And what Thoughts have you of me? What, that I should betray you? And +coming hither only full of Ardor to be the Repose of your Life, do I +bring a fatal Poison to afflict it? What Detestation must I have for the +Beauty they find in me, without aspiring to make it appear? And how +ought I to curse the unfortunate Day, on which I first saw the +Prince?—But, Madam, it cannot be me whom Heaven has chosen to +torment you, and to destroy all your Tranquillity: No, it cannot be so +much my Enemy, to put me to so great +<span class = "pagenum">222</span> +a Tryal. And if I were that odious Person, there is no Punishment, to +which I would not condemn my self. It is <i>Elvira</i>, Madam, the +Prince loves, and loved before his Marriage with you, and also before +his Divorce from <i>Bianca</i>; and somebody has made an indiscreet +Report to you of this Intrigue of his Youth: But, Madam, what was in the +time of <i>Bianca</i>, is nothing to you. It is certain that <i>Don +Pedro</i> loves you, (<i>answer’d the Princess</i>) and I have Vanity +enough to believe, that, none besides your self could have disputed his +Heart with me: But the Secret is discover’d, and <i>Don Pedro</i> has +not disown’d it. What, (<i>interrupted <em>Agnes</em>, more surpriz’d +than ever</i>) is it then from himself you have learned his Weakness?’ +The Princess then shew’d her the Verses, and there was never any Despair +like to hers.</p> + +<p>While they were both thus sadly employ’d, both sighing, and both +weeping, the impatient <i>Elvira</i>, who was willing to learn the +Effect of her Malice, returned to the Apartment of the Princess, where +she freely enter’d; even to the Cabinet where these unhappy Persons +were: who all afflicted and troubled as they were, blushed at her +approach, whose Company they did not desire: She had the Pleasure to see +<i>Constantia</i> hide from her the Paper which had been the Cause of +all their Trouble, and which the Princess had never seen, but for her +Spite and Revenge; and to observe also in the Eyes of the Princess, and +those of <i>Agnes</i>, an immoderate Grief: She staid in the Cabinet as +long as it was necessary to be assur’d, that she had succeeded in her +Design; but the Princess, who did not desire such a Witness of the +Disorder in which she then was, pray’d to be left alone. <i>Elvira</i> +then went out of the Cabinet, and <i>Agnes de Castro</i> withdrew at the +same time.</p> + +<p>It was in her own Chamber, that <i>Agnes</i> examining more freely +this Adventure, found it as cruel as Death. She loved <i>Constantia</i> +sincerely, and had not till then any thing more than an Esteem, mixt +with Admiration, for the +<span class = "pagenum">223</span> +Prince of <i>Portugal</i>; which indeed, none could refuse to so many +fine Qualities. And looking on her self as the most unfortunate of her +Sex, as being the Cause of all the Sufferings of the Princess, to whom +she was obliged for the greatest Bounties, she spent the whole Night in +Tears and Complaints, sufficient to have reveng’d <i>Constantia</i> for +all the Griefs she made her suffer.</p> + +<p>The Prince, on his side, was in no great Tranquillity; the Generosity +of his Princess increas’d his Remorse, without diminishing his Love: he +fear’d, and with reason, that those who were the occasion of +<i>Constantia’s</i> seeing those Verses, should discover his Passion to +the King, from whom he hoped for no Indulgence: and he would most +willingly have given his Life, to have been free from this +Extremity.</p> + +<p>In the mean time the afflicted Princess languished in a most +deplorable Sadness; she found nothing in those who were the Cause of her +Misfortunes, but things fitter to move her Tenderness than her Anger: It +was in vain that Jealousy strove to combat the Inclination she had to +love her fair Rival; nor was there any occasion of making the Prince +less dear to her: and she felt neither Hatred, nor so much as +Indifference for innocent <i>Agnes</i>.</p> + +<p>While these three disconsolate Persons abandon’d themselves to their +Melancholy, <i>Elvira</i>, not to leave her Vengeance imperfect, study’d +in what manner she might bring it to the height of its Effects. Her +Brother, on whom she depended, shew’d her a great deal of Friendship, +and judging rightly that the Love of <i>Don Pedro</i> to <i>Agnes de +Castro</i> would not be approved by the King, she acquainted <i>Don +Alvaro</i> her Brother with it, who was not ignorant of the Passion the +Prince had once protested to have for his Sister. He found himself very +much interested in this News, from a second Passion he had for +<i>Agnes</i>; which the Business of his Fortune had hitherto hindred him +from discovering: and he expected a great many Favours from +<span class = "pagenum">224</span> +the King, that might render the Effort of his Heart the more +considerable.</p> + +<p>He hid not from his Sister this one thing, which he found difficult +to conceal; so that she was now possest with a double Grief, to find +<i>Agnes</i> Sovereign of all the Hearts to which she had a +pretension.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i> was one of those ambitious Men, that are fierce +without Moderation, and proud without Generosity; of a melancholy, +cloudy Humour, of a cruel Inclination, and to effect his Ends, found +nothing difficult or unlawful. Naturally he lov’d not the Prince, who, +on all accounts, ought to have held the first Rank in the Heart of the +King, which should have set bounds to the Favour of <i>Don Alvaro</i>; +who when he knew the Prince was his Rival, his Jealousy increas’d his +Hate of him: and he conjured <i>Elvira</i> to employ all her Care, to +oppose an Engagement that could not but be destructive to them both; she +promised him, and he not very well satisfy’d, rely’d on her Address.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i>, who had too lively a Representation within +himself, of the Beauties and Grace of the Prince of <i>Portugal</i>, +thought of nothing, but how to combat his Merits, he himself not being +handsome, or well made: His Fashion was as disagreeable as his Humour, +and <i>Don Pedro</i> had all the Advantages that one Man may possibly +have over another. In fine, all that <i>Don Alvaro</i> wanted, adorn’d +the Prince: but as he was the Husband of <i>Constantia</i>, and depended +upon an absolute Father, and that <i>Don Alvaro</i> was free, and Master +of a good Fortune, he thought himself more assur’d of <i>Agnes</i>, and +fixed his Hopes on that Thought.</p> + +<p>He knew very well, that the Passion of <i>Don Pedro</i> could not but +inspire a violent Anger in the Soul of the King. Industrious in doing +ill, his first Business was to carry this unwelcome News to him. After +he had given time to his Grief, and had compos’d himself to his Desire, +he then +<span class = "pagenum">225</span> +besought the King to interest himself in his amorous Affair, and to be +the Protector of his Person.</p> + +<p>Tho’ <i>Don Alvaro</i> had no other Merit to recommend him to the +King, than a continual and blind Obedience to all his Commands; yet he +had favour’d him with several Testimonies of his vast Bounty: and +considering the Height to which the King’s Liberality had rais’d him, +there were few Ladies that would have refused his Alliance. The King +assured him of the Continuation of his Friendship and Favour, and +promised him, if he had any Authority, he would give him the charming +<i>Agnes</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i>, perfectly skilful in managing his Master, answer’d +the King’s last Bounties with a profound Submission. He had yet never +told <i>Agnes</i> what he felt for her; but he thought now he might make +a publick Declaration of it, and sought all means to do it.</p> + +<p>The Gallantry which <i>Coimbra</i> seem’d to have forgotten, began +now to be awakened. The King to please <i>Don Alvaro</i>, under pretence +of diverting <i>Constantia</i>, order’d some publick Sports, and +commanded that every thing should be magnificent.</p> + +<p>Since the Adventure of the Verses, <i>Don Pedro</i> endeavour’d to +lay a constraint on himself, and to appear less troubled; but in his +heart he suffer’d always alike: and it was not but with great uneasiness +he prepar’d himself for the Tournament. And since he could not appear +with the Colours of <i>Agnes</i>, he took those of his Wife, without +Device, or any great Magnificence.</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i> adorn’d himself with the Liveries of <i>Agnes de +Castro</i>; and this fair Maid, who had yet found no Consolation from +what the Princess had told her, had this new cause of being +displeas’d.</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i> appear’d in the List with an admirable Grace; and +<i>Don Alvaro</i>, who looked on this Day as his own, appear’d there all +shining with Gold, mix’d with Stones of Blue, which were the Colours of +<i>Agnes</i>; and +<span class = "pagenum">226</span> +there were embroider’d all over his Equipage, flaming Hearts of Gold on +blue Velvet, and Nets for the Snares of Love, with abundance of double +<i>A’s</i>; his Device was a Love coming out of a Cloud, with these +Verses written underneath:</p> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>Love from a Cloud breaks like the God of Day,</p> +<p>And to the World his Glories does display;</p> +<p>To gaze on charming Eyes, and make ’em know,</p> +<p>What to soft Hearts, and to his Power they owe.</p> +</div> + +<p>The Pride of <i>Don Alvaro</i> was soon humbled at the feet of the +Prince of <i>Portugal</i>, who threw him against the Ground, with twenty +others, and carry’d alone the Glory of the Day. There was in the Evening +a noble Assembly at <i>Constantia’s</i>, where <i>Agnes</i> would not +have been, unless <ins class = "correction" title = +"spelling unchanged">expresly</ins> commanded by the Princess. She appear’d there +all negligent and careless in her Dress, but yet she appear’d all +beautiful and charming. She saw, with disdain, her Name, and her +Colours, worn by <i>Don Alvaro</i>, at a publick Triumph; and if her +Heart was capable of any tender Motions, it was not for such a Man as he +for whom her Delicacy destin’d them: She look’d on him with a Contempt, +which did not hinder him from pressing so near, that there was a +necessity for her to hear what he had to declare to her.</p> + +<p>She treated him not uncivilly, but her Coldness would have rebated +the Courage of any but <i>Alvaro</i>. ‘Madam, said he, (when he could be +heard of none but herself) I have hitherto concealed the Passion +you have inspired me with, fearing it should displease you; but it has +committed a Violence on my Respect; and I could no longer conceal it +from you. I never reflected on your Actions (answer’d <i>Agnes</i> +with all the Indifference of which she was capable) and if you think you +offend me, you are in the wrong to make me perceive it. This Coldness is +but an ill Omen +<span class = "pagenum">227</span> +for me (reply’d <i>Don Alvaro</i>) and if you have not found me out to +be your Lover to-day, I fear you will never approve my Passion<ins +class = "correction" title = "close quote missing">.’ </ins></p> + +<p>‘Oh! what a time have you chosen to make it appear to me? (pursued +<i>Agnes</i>.) Is it so great an Honour for me, that you must take such +care to shew it to the World? And do you think that I am so desirous of +Glory, that I must aspire to it by your Actions? If I must, you have +very ill maintain’d it in the Tournament; and if it be that Vanity that +you depend upon, you will make no great progress on a Soul that is not +fond of Shame. If you were possest of all the Advantages, which the +Prince has this day carried away, you yet ought to consider what you are +going about; and it is not a Maid like me, who is touched with +Enterprizes, without respect or permission.’</p> + +<p>The Favourite of the King was too proud to hear <i>Agnes</i>, without +Indignation: but as he was willing to conceal it, and not offend her, he +made not his Resentment appear; and considering the Observation she made +on the Triumphs of <i>Don Pedro</i>, (which increased his Jealousies) +‘If I have not overcome at the Tournament, reply’d he, I am not the +less in love for being vanquish’d, nor less capable of Success on +occasion.’</p> + +<p>They were interrupted here, but from that day, <i>Don Alvaro</i>, who +had open’d the first Difficulties, kept no more his wonted Distance, but +perpetually persecuted <i>Agnes</i>; yet, tho’ he were protected by the +King, that inspir’d in her never the more Consideration for him. <i>Don +Pedro</i> was always ignorant by what means the Verses he had lost in +the Garden, fell into the hands of <i>Constantia</i>. As the Princess +appeared to him indulgent, he was only concerned for <i>Agnes</i>; and +the love of <i>Don Alvaro</i>, which was then so well known, increas’d +the Pain: and had he been possess’d of the Authority, he would not have +suffer’d her to have been expos’d to the Persecutions of so unworthy a +Rival. He was also afraid of the King’s being advertised +<span class = "pagenum">228</span> +of his Passion, but he thought not at all of <i>Elvira</i>, nor +apprehended any Malice from her Resentment.</p> + +<p>While she burnt with a Desire of destroying <i>Agnes</i>, against +whom she vented all her Venom, she was never weary of making new Reports +to her Brother, assuring him, that tho’ they could not prove that +<i>Agnes</i> made any returns to the Tenderness of the Prince, yet that +was the Cause of <i>Constantia’s</i> Grief: And, that if this Princess +should die of it, <i>Don Pedro</i> might marry <i>Agnes</i>. In fine, +she so incens’d the jealous <i>Don Alvaro’s</i> Jealousy, that he could +not hinder himself from running immediately to the King, with the +discovery of all he knew, and all he guest, and who, he had the pleasure +to find, was infinitely inrag’d at the News. ‘My dear <i>Alvaro</i>, +said the King, you shall instantly marry this dangerous Beauty: And let +Possession assure your Repose and mine. If I have protected you on other +Occasions, judge what a Service of so great an Importance for me, would +make me undertake; and without any reserve, the Forces of this State are +in your power, and almost any thing that I can give shall be assured +you, so you render your self Master of the Destiny of <i>Agnes</i>.’</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i> pleas’d, and vain with his Master’s Bounty, made +use of all the Authority he gave him: He passionately lov’d +<i>Agnes</i>, and would not, on the sudden, make use of Violence; but +resolv’d with himself to employ all possible Means to win her fairly; +yet if that fail’d, to have recourse to force, if she continued always +insensible.</p> + +<p>While <i>Agnes de Castro</i> (importun’d by his Assiduities, +despairing at the Grief of <i>Constantia</i>, and perhaps made tender by +those she had caus’d in the Prince of <i>Portugal</i>) took a Resolution +worthy of her Virtue; yet, amiable as <i>Don Pedro</i> was, she found +nothing in him, but his being Husband to <i>Constantia</i>, that was +dear to her: And, far from encouraging the Power she had got over his +Heart, she thought of nothing but of removing from <i>Coimbra</i>. The +Passion of <i>Don Alvaro</i>, which she had no inclination +<span class = "pagenum">229</span> +to favour, served her as a Pretext; and press’d with the fear of +causing, in the end, a cruel Divorce between the Prince and his +Princess, she went to find <i>Constantia</i>, with a trouble, which all +her Care was not able to hide from her.</p> + +<p>The Princess easily found it out; and their common Misfortunes having +not chang’d their Friendship—‘What ails you, <i>Agnes</i>? (said +the Princess to her, in a soft Tone, and with her ordinary Sweetness) +And what new Misfortune causes that sadness in thy Looks? Madam (reply’d +<i>Agnes</i>, shedding a Rivulet of Tears) the Obligations and Ties I +have to you, put me upon a cruel Tryal; I had bounded the Felicity +of my Life in hope of passing it near your Highness, yet I must carry to +some other part of the World this unlucky Face of mine, which renders me +nothing but ill Offices: And it is to obtain that Liberty, that I am +come to throw my self at your feet; looking upon you as my +Sovereign.’</p> + +<p><i>Constantia</i> was so surpriz’d and touch’d with the Proposition +of <i>Agnes</i>, that she lost her Speech for some moments; Tears, which +were sincere, express’d her first Sentiments: And after having shed +abundance, to give a new mark of her Tenderness to the fair afflicted +<i>Agnes</i>, she with a sad and melancholy Look, fix’d her Eyes upon +her, and holding out her Hand to her, in a most obliging manner, +sighing, cry’d—‘You will then, my dear <i>Agnes</i>, leave me; and +expose me to the Griefs of seeing you no more? Alas, Madam, (interrupted +this lovely Maid) hide from the unhappy <i>Agnes</i> a Bounty which does +but increase her Misfortunes: It is not I, Madam, that would leave you; +it is my Duty, and my Reason that orders my Fate. And those Days which I +shall pass far from you, promise me nothing to oblige me to this Design, +if I did not see my self absolutely forc’d to it. I am not ignorant +of what passes at <i>Coimbra</i>; and I shall be an Accomplice of the +Injustice there committed, if I should stay there any longer.—Ah, +I know your Virtue, (cry’d <i>Constantia</i>) and you may remain +<span class = "pagenum">230</span> +here in all safety, while I am your Protectress; and let what will +happen, I will accuse you of nothing. There’s no answering for +what’s to come, (reply’d <i>Agnes</i>, sadly) and I shall be +sufficiently guilty, if my Presence cause Sentiments, which cannot be +innocent. Besides, Madam, the Importunities of <i>Don Alvaro</i> are +insupportable to me; and tho’ I find nothing but Aversion to him, +since the King protects his Insolence, and he’s in a condition of +undertaking any thing, my Flight is absolutely necessary. But, Madam, +tho’ he has nothing but what seems odious to me; I call Heaven to +witness, that if I could cure the Prince by marrying <i>Don Alvaro</i>, +I would not consider of it a moment; and finding in my Punishment the +Consolation of sacrificing my self to my Princess, I would support +it without murmuring. But if I were the Wife of <i>Don Alvaro</i>, +<i>Don Pedro</i> would always look upon me with the same Eyes: So that I +find nothing more reasonable for me, than to hide my self in some Corner +of the World; where, tho’ I shall most certainly live without +Pleasure, yet I shall preserve the Repose of my dearest Mistress. All +the Reason you find in this Design, (answered the Princess) cannot +oblige me to approve of your Absence: Will it restore me the Heart of +<i>Don Pedro</i>? And will he not fly away with you? His Grief is mine, +and my Life is ty’d to his; do not make him despair then, if you love +me. I know you, I tell you so once more; and let your Power be +ever so great over the Heart of the Prince, I will not suffer you +to abandon us.’</p> + +<p>Tho’ <i>Agnes</i> thought she had perfectly known <i>Constantia</i>, +yet she did not expect to find so intire a Virtue in her, which made her +think her self more happy, and the Prince more criminal. ‘Oh, Wisdom! +Oh, Bounty without Example! (cry’d she) Why is it, that the cruel +Destinies do not give you all you deserve? You are the disposer of my +Actions, (continued she in kissing the Hand of <i>Constantia</i>) I’ll +do nothing but what you’ll have me: But consider, +<span class = "pagenum">231</span> +and weigh well the Reasons that ought to counsel you in the Measures you +oblige me to take.’</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i>, who had not seen the Princess all that day, came in +then, and finding ’em both extremely troubled, with a fierce Impatience, +demanded the Cause: ‘Sir, answered <i>Constantia</i>, <i>Agnes</i> too +wise, and too scrupulous, fears the Effects of her Beauty, and will live +no longer at <i>Coimbra</i>; and it was on this Subject, (which cannot +be agreeable to me) that she ask’d my Advice.’ The Prince grew pale +at this Discourse, and snatching the Words from her Mouth (with more +concern than possest either of them) cry’d with a Voice very feeble, +‘<i>Agnes</i> cannot fail if she follow your Counsel, Madam: and I leave +you full liberty to give it her.’ He then immediately went out, and the +Princess, whose Heart he perfectly possest, not being able to hide her +Displeasure, said, ‘My dear <i>Agnes</i>, if my Satisfaction did not +only depend on your Conversation, I should desire it of you, for +<i>Don Pedro’s</i> sake; it is the only Advantage that his unfortunate +Love can hope: And would not the World have reason to call me barbarous, +if I contribute to deprive him of that? But the sight of me will prove a +Poison to him—(reply’d <i>Agnes</i>) And what should I do, my +Princess, if after the Reserve he has hitherto kept, his Mouth should +add anything to the Torments I have already felt, by speaking to me of +his Flame? You would hear him sure, without causing him to despair, +(reply’d <i>Constantia</i>) and I should put this Obligation to the +account of the rest you have done. Would you then have me expect those +Events which I fear, Madam? (reply’d <i>Agnes</i>) +Well—I will obey, but just Heaven (pursued she) if they prove +fatal, do not punish an innocent Heart for it.’ Thus this <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘Coversation’">Conversation</ins> +ended. <i>Agnes</i> withdrew into her Chamber, but it was not to be more +at ease.</p> + +<p>What <i>Don Pedro</i> had learn’d of the Design of <i>Agnes</i>, +caus’d a cruel Agitation in his Soul; he wished he had never loved her, +and desir’d a thousand times to die: But +<span class = "pagenum">232</span> +it was not for him to make Vows against a thing which Fate had design’d +him; and whatever Resolutions he made, to bear the Absence of +<i>Agnes</i>, his Tenderness had not force enough to consent +to it.</p> + +<p>After having, for a long time, combated with himself, he determined +to do what was impossible for him to let <i>Agnes</i> do. His Courage +reproach’d him with the Idleness, in which he past the most youthful and +vigorous part of his Days: and making it appear to the King, that his +Allies, and even the Prince <i>Don John Emanuel</i>, his Father-in-law, +had concerns in the World which demanded his Presence on the Frontiers, +he easily obtain’d Liberty to make this Journey, to which the Princess +would put no Obstacle.</p> + +<p><i>Agnes</i> saw him part without any Concern, but it was not upon +the account of any Aversion she had to him. <i>Don Alvaro</i> began then +to make his Importunity an open Persecution; he forgot nothing that +might touch the insensible <i>Agnes</i>, and made use, a long time, +only of the Arms of Love: But seeing that this Submission and Respect +was to no purpose, he form’d strange Designs.</p> + +<p>As the King had a deference for all his Counsels, it was not +difficult to inspire him with what he had a mind to: He complain’d of +the ungrateful <i>Agnes</i>, and forgot nothing that might make him +perceive that she was not cruel to him on his account, but from the too +much Sensibility she had for the Prince. The King, who was extreme angry +at this, reiterated all the Promises he had made him.</p> + +<p>The King had not yet spoken to <i>Agnes</i> in favour of <i>Don +Alvaro</i>; and not doubting but his Approbation would surmount all +Obstacles, he took an occasion to entertain her with it: And removing +some distance from those who might hear him, ‘I thought <i>Don +Alvaro</i> had Merit enough (said he to her) to have obtained a little +share in your Esteem; and I could not imagine there would have been any +necessity of my solliciting it for him: I know you are +<span class = "pagenum">233</span> +very charming, but he has nothing that renders him unworthy of you; and +when you shall reflect on the Choice my Friendship has made of him from +among all the great Men of my Court, you will do him at the same time +Justice. His Fortune is none of the meanest, since he has me for his +Protector: He is nobly born, a Man of Honour and Courage: he adores +you, and it seems to me that all these Reasons are sufficient to +vanquish your Pride.’</p> + +<p>The Heart of <i>Agnes</i> was so little disposed to give it self to +<i>Don Alvaro</i>, that all the King of <i>Portugal</i> had said had no +effect on her in his favour. ‘If <i>Don Alvaro</i>, Sir, (answered she) +were without Merit, he possesses Advantages enough in the Bounty your +Majesty is pleased to honour him with, to make him Master of all things, +it is not that I find any Defect in him that I answer not his Desires: +But, Sir, by what obstinate Power would you that I should love, if +Heaven has not given me a Soul that is tender? And why should you +pretend that I should submit to him, when nothing is dearer to me than +my liberty? You are not so free, nor so insensible, as you say, +(answer’d the King, blushing with Anger;) and if your Heart were exempt +from all sorts of Affection, he might expect a more reasonable Return +than what he finds. But imprudent Maid, conducted by an ill Fate, (added +he in fury) what Pretensions have you to <i>Don Pedro</i>? Hitherto I +have hid the Chagrin, which his Weakness, and yours give me; but it was +not the less violent for being hid. And since you oblige me to break +out, I must tell you, that if my Son were not already married to +<i>Constantia</i>, he should never be your Husband; renounce then those +vain Ideas, which will cure him, and justify you.’</p> + +<p>The courageous <i>Agnes</i> was scarce Mistress of the first +Transports, at a Discourse so full of Contempt; but calling her Virtue +to the aid of her Anger, she recover’d herself by the assistance of +Reason: And considering the Outrage she receiv’d, not as coming from a +great King, but a Man +<span class = "pagenum">234</span> +blinded and possest by <i>Don Alvaro</i>, she thought him not worthy of +her Resentment; her fair Eyes animated themselves with so shining a +vivacity, they answer’d for the purity of her Sentiments; and fixing +them steadfastly on the King, ‘If the Prince <i>Don Pedro</i> have +Weaknesses, (reply’d she, with an Air disdainful) he never communicated +’em to me; and I am certain, I never contributed wilfully to ’em: +But to let you see how little I regard your Defiance, and to put my +Glory in safety, I will live far from you, and all that belongs to +you: Yes, Sir, I will quit <i>Coimbra</i> with pleasure; and for +this Man, who is so dear to you, (answer’d she with a noble Pride and +Fierceness, of which the King felt all the force) for this Favourite, so +worthy to possess the most tender Affections of a great Prince, +I assure you, that into whatever part of the World Fortune conducts +me, I will not carry away the least Remembrance of him.’ At these +words she made a profound Reverence, and made such haste from his +Presence, that he could not oppose her going if he would.</p> + +<p>The King was now more strongly convinc’d than ever, that she favour’d +the Passion of <i>Don Pedro</i>, and immediately went to +<i>Constantia</i>, to inspire her with the same Thought; but she was not +capable of receiving such Impressions, and following her own natural +Inclinations, she generously defended the Virtue of his Actions. The +King, angry to see her so well intentioned to her Rival, whom he would +have had her hated, reproached her with the sweetness of her Temper, and +went thence to mix his Anger with <i>Don Alvaro’s</i> Rage, who was +totally confounded when he saw the Negotiation of his Master had taken +no effect. The haughty Maid braves me then, Sir, said he to the King, +and despises the Honour which your Bounty offered her! Why cannot I +resist so fatal a Passion? But I must love her, in spite of my self; and +if this Flame consume me, I can find no way to extinguish it. What +can I further do for you, replied the King? Alas, Sir, answered <i>Don +<span class = "pagenum">235</span> +Alvaro</i>, I must do by force, what I cannot otherwise hope from the +proud and cruel <i>Agnes</i>. Well then, added the King, since it is not +fit for me to authorize publickly a Violence in the midst of my Kingdom, +chuse those of my Subjects whom you think most capable of serving you, +and take away by force the Beauty that charms you; and if she do not +yield to your Love, put that Power you are Master of in execution, to +oblige her to marry you.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i>, ravish’d with this Proposition, which at the same +time flatter’d both his Love and his Anger, cast himself at the Feet of +the King, and renewed his Acknowledgments by fresh Protestations, and +thought of nothing but employing his unjust Authority against +<i>Agnes</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i> had been about three Months absent, when +<i>Alvaro</i> undertook what the King counselled him to; tho’ the +Moderation was known to him, yet he feared his Presence, and would not +attend the return of a Rival, with whom he would avoid all Disputes.</p> + +<p>One Night, when the said <i>Agnes</i>, full of her ordinary +Inquietudes, in vain expected the God of Sleep, she heard a Noise, and +after saw some Men unknown enter her Chamber, whose Measures being well +consulted, they carried her out of the Palace, and putting her in a +close Coach, forced her out of <i>Coimbra</i>, without being hinder’d by +any Obstacle. She knew not of whom to complain, nor whom to suspect: +<i>Don Alvaro</i> seem’d too puissant to seek his Satisfaction this way; +and she accus’d not the Prince of this attempt, of whom she had so +favourable an Opinion: whatever she could think or say, she could not +hinder her ill Fortune: They hurried her on with diligence, and before +it was Day, were a considerable way off from the Town.</p> + +<p>As soon as Day began to break, she surveyed those that encompassed +her, without so much as knowing one of them; and seeing that her Cries +and Prayers were all in vain with these deaf Ravishers, she satisfied +her self with +<span class = "pagenum">236</span> +imploring the Protection of Heaven, and abandon’d herself to its +Conduct.</p> + +<p>While she sat thus overwhelmed with Grief, uncertain of her Destiny, +she saw a Body of Horse advance towards the Troop which conducted her: +the Ravishers did not shun them, thinking it to be <i>Don Alvaro</i>: +but when he approached more near, they found it was the Prince of +<i>Portugal</i> who was at the head of ’em, and who, without foreseeing +the occasion that would offer it self of serving <i>Agnes</i>, was +returning to <i>Coimbra</i> full of her Idea, after having performed +what he ought in this Expedition.</p> + +<p><i>Agnes</i>, who did not expect him, changed now her Opinion, and +thought that it was the Prince that had caused her to be stolen away. +‘Oh, Sir! (said she to him, having still the same Thought) is it you +that have torn me from the Princess? And could so cruel a Blow come from +a Hand that is so dear to her? What will you do with an unfortunate +Creature, who desires nothing but Death? And why will you obscure the +Glory of your Life, by an Artifice unworthy of you?’ This Language +astonish’d the Prince no less than the sight of <i>Agnes</i> had done; +he found by what she had said, that she was taken away by force; and +immediately passing to the height of Rage, he made her understand by one +only Look, that he was not the base Author of her trouble. ‘I tear +you from <i>Constantia</i>, whose only Pleasure you are! replied he: +What Opinion have you of <i>Don Pedro</i>? No, Madam, tho’ you see me +here, I am altogether innocent of the Violence that has been done +you; and there is nothing I will refuse to hinder it.’ He then turned +himself to behold the Ravishers, but his Presence had already scatter’d +’em, he order’d some of his Men to pursue ’em, and to seize some of ’em, +that he might know what Authority it was that set ’em at work.</p> + +<p>During this, <i>Agnes</i> was no less confus’d than before; she +admir’d the Conduct of her Destiny, that brought the +<span class = "pagenum">237</span> +Prince at a time when he was so necessary to her. Her Inclinations to do +him justice, soon repair’d the Offence her Suspicions had caus’d; she +was glad to have escap’d a Misfortune, which appear’d certain to her: +but this was not a sincere Joy, when she consider’d that her Lover was +her Deliverer, and a Lover worthy of all her Acknowledgments, but who +owed his Heart to the most amiable Princess in the World.</p> + +<p>While the Prince’s Men were pursuing the Ravishers of <i>Agnes</i>, +he was left almost alone with her; and tho’ he had always resolv’d to +shun being so, yet his Constancy was not proof against so fair an +Occasion: ‘Madam, said he to her, is it possible that Men born amongst +those that obey us, should be capable of offending you? I never +thought my self destin’d to revenge such an Offence; but since Heaven +has permitted you to receive it, I will either perish or make them +repent it.’ ‘Sir, replied <i>Agnes</i>, more concern’d at this Discourse +than at the Enterprize of <i>Don Alvaro</i>, those who are wanting in +their respect to the Princess and you, are not obliged to have any for +me. I do not in the least doubt that <i>Don Alvaro</i> was the +undertaker of this Enterprize; and I judged what I ought to fear from +him, by what his Importunities have already made me suffer. He is sure +of the King’s Protection, and he will make him an Accomplice in his +Crime: but, Sir, Heaven conducted you hither happily for me, and I am +indebted to you for the liberty I have of serving the Princess yet +longer.’ <ins class = "correction" title = +"open quote missing">‘You</ins> will do for <i>Constantia</i>, replied +the Prince, what ’tis impossible not to do for you; your Goodness +attaches you to her, and my Destiny engages me to you for ever.’</p> + +<p>The modest <i>Agnes</i>, who fear’d this Discourse as much as the +Misfortune she had newly shunned, answer’d nothing but by down-cast +Eyes; and the Prince, who knew the trouble she was in, left her to go to +speak to his Men, who brought back one of those that belong’d to <i>Don +Alvaro</i>, +<span class = "pagenum">238</span> +by whose Confession he found the truth: He pardon’d him, thinking not +fit to punish him, who obey’d a Man whom the Weakness of his Father had +render’d powerful.</p> + +<p>Afterwards they conducted <i>Agnes</i> back to <i>Coimbra</i>, where +her Adventure began to make a great Noise: the Princess was ready to die +with Despair, and at first thought it was only a continuation of the +design this fair Maid had of retiring; but some Women that served her +having told the Princess, that she was carried away by Violence, +<i>Constantia</i> made her Complaint to the King, who regarded her not +at all.</p> + +<p>‘Madam, said he to her, let this fatal Plague remove it self, who +takes from you the Heart of your Husband; and without afflicting your +self for her absence, bless Heaven and me for it.’</p> + +<p>The generous Princess took <i>Agnes’s</i> part with a great deal of +Courage, and was then disputing her defence with the King, when <i>Don +Pedro</i> arrived at <i>Coimbra</i>.</p> + +<p>The first Object that met the Prince’s Eyes was <i>Don Alvaro</i>, +who was passing thro’ one of the Courts of the Palace, amidst a Croud of +Courtiers, whom his Favour with the King drew after him. This sight made +<i>Don Pedro</i> rage; but that of the Princess and <i>Agnes</i> caus’d +in <i>Alvaro</i> another sort of Emotion: He easily divin’d, that it was +<i>Don Pedro</i>, who had taken her from his Men, and, if his Fury had +acted what it would, it might have produc’d very sad effects.</p> + +<p>‘<i>Don Alvaro</i>, said the Prince to him, is it thus you make use +of the Authority which the King my Father hath given you? Have you +receiv’d Employments and Power from him, for no other end but to do +these base Actions, and to commit Rapes on Ladies? Are you ignorant how +the Princess interests her self in all that concerns this Maid? And do +you not know the tender and affectionate Esteem she has for her.’ No, +replied <i>Don Alvaro</i>, (with an Insolence that had like to have put +the Prince past all patience) +<span class = "pagenum">239</span> +‘I am not ignorant of it, nor of the Interest your Heart takes in her.’ +‘Base and treacherous as thou art, replied the Prince, neither the +Favour which thou hast so much abused, nor the Insolence which makes +thee speak this, should hinder me from punishing thee, wert thou worthy +of my Sword; but there are other ways to humble thy Pride, and ’tis not +fit for such an Arm as mine to seek so base an Employment to punish such +a Slave as thou art.’</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i> went away at these Words, and left <i>Alvaro</i> in +a Rage, which is not to be express’d; despairing to see himself defeated +in an Enterprize he thought so sure; and at the Contempt the Prince +shewed him, he promis’d himself to sacrifice all to his Revenge.</p> + +<p>Tho’ the King lov’d his Son, he was so prepossessed against his +Passion, that he could not pardon him what he had done, and condemn’d +him as much for this last act of Justice, in delivering <i>Agnes</i>, as +if it had been the greatest of Crimes.</p> + +<p><i>Elvira</i>, whom the sweetness of Hope flatter’d some moments, saw +the return of <i>Agnes</i> with a sensible Displeasure, which suffer’d +her to think of nothing but irritating her Brother.</p> + +<p>In fine, the Prince saw the King, but instead of being receiv’d by +him with a Joy due to the success of his Journey, he appear’d all sullen +and out of humour. After having paid him his first Respects, and given +him an exact account of what he had done, he spoke to him about the +Violence committed against the Person of <i>Agnes de Castro</i>, and +complain’d to him of it in the Name of the Princess, and of his own: +‘You ought to be silent in this Affair, replied the King; and the Motive +which makes you speak is so shameful for you, that I sigh and blush at +it. What is it to you, if this Maid, whose Presence is troublesome to +me, be removed hence, since ’tis I that desire it?’ ‘But, Sir, +interrupted the Prince, what necessity is there of employing Force, +Artifice, and the Night, +<span class = "pagenum">240</span> +when the least of your Orders had been sufficient? <i>Agnes</i> would +willingly have obey’d you; and if she continue at <i>Coimbra</i>, it is +perhaps against her Will: but be it as it will, Sir, <i>Constantia</i> +is offended, and if were not for fear of displeasing you, (the only +thing that retains me) the Ravisher should not have gone +unpunished.’ ‘How happy are you, replied the King, smiling with disdain, +in making use of the Name of <i>Constantia</i> to uphold the Interest of +your Heart! You think I am ignorant of it, and that this unhappy +Princess looks on the Injury you do her with Indifference. Never speak +to me more of <i>Agnes</i>, (with a Tone very severe.) Content your +self, that I pardon what’s past, and think maturely of the +Considerations I have for <i>Don Alvaro</i>, when you would design any +thing against him.’ ‘Yes, Sir, replied the Prince with fierceness, +I will speak to you no more of <i>Agnes</i>; but <i>Constantia</i> +and I will never suffer, that she should be any more expos’d to the +Insolence of your Favourite.’ The King had like to have broke out into a +Rage at this Discourse: but he had yet a rest of Prudence left that +hinder’d him. ‘Retire (said he to <i>Don Pedro</i>) and go make +Reflections on what my Power can do, and what you owe me.’</p> + +<p>During this Conversation, <i>Agnes</i> was receiving from the +Princess, and from all the Ladies of the Court, great Expressions of Joy +and Friendship: <i>Constantia</i> saw again her Husband, with a great +deal of satisfaction: and far from being sorry at what he had lately +done for <i>Agnes</i>, she privately return’d him thanks for it, and +still was the same towards him, notwith­standing all the Jealousy +which was endeavour’d to be inspir’d in her.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i>, who found in his Sister a Maliciousness worthy of +his trust, did not conceal his Fury from her. After she had made vain +attempts to moderate it, in blotting <i>Agnes</i> out of his Heart, +seeing that his Disease was incurable, she made him understand, that so +long as <i>Constantia</i> should not be jealous, there were no hopes: +<span class = "pagenum">241</span> +That if <i>Agnes</i> should once be suspected by her, she would not fail +of abandoning her, and that then it would be easy to get Satisfaction, +the Prince being now so proud of <i>Constantia’s</i> Indulgency. In +giving this Advice to her Brother, she promis’d to serve him +effectually; and having no need of any body but her self to perform ill +things, she recommended <i>Don Alvaro</i> to manage well the King.</p> + +<p>Four Years were pass’d in that melancholy Station, and the Princess, +besides her first dead Child, and <i>Ferdinando</i>, who was still +living, had brought two Daughters into the World.</p> + +<p>Some days after <i>Don Pedro’s</i> return, <i>Elvira</i>, who was +most dextrous in the Art of well-governing any wicked Design, did gain +one of the Servants who belong’d to <i>Constantia’s</i> Chamber. She +first spoke her fair, then overwhelm’d her with Presents and Gifts; and +finding in her as ill a Disposition as in her self, she readily resolv’d +to employ her.</p> + +<p>After she was sure of her, she compos’d a Letter, which was after +writ over again in an unknown Hand, which she deposited in that Maid’s +Hands, that she might deliver to <i>Constantia</i> with the first +Opportunity, telling her, that <i>Agnes</i> had drop’d it. This was the +Substance of it:</p> + +<p class = "space"> +<i>I Employ not my own Hand to write to you, for Reasons that I shall +acquaint you with. How happy am I to have overcome all your Scruples! +And what Happiness shall I find in the Progress of our Intrigue! The +whole Course of my Life shall continually represent to you the Sincerity +of my Affections; pray think on the secret Conversation that I require +of you: I dare not speak to you in publick, therefore let me +conjure you here, by all that I have suffer’d, to come to-night to the +Place appointed, and speak to me no more of <em>Constantia</em>; for she +must be content with my Esteem, since my Heart can be only +yours.</i></p> + +<p class = "space"> +The unfaithful <i>Portuguese</i> serv’d <i>Elvira</i> exactly to her +Desires; and the very next day seeing <i>Agnes</i> go out from the +<span class = "pagenum">242</span> +Princess, she carry’d <i>Constantia</i> the Letter; which she took, and +found there what she was far from imagining: Tenderness never produc’d +an Effect more full of grief, than what it made her suffer. ‘Alas! they +are both culpable, (said she, sighing) and in spite of the Defence my +Heart would make for ’em, my Reason condemns ’em. Unhappy Princess, the +sad subject of the Capriciousness of Fortune! Why dost not thou die, +since thou hast not a Heart of Honour to revenge it self? O <i>Don +Pedro</i>! why did you give me your Hand, without your Heart? And thou, +fair, and ungrateful! wert thou born to be the Misfortune of my Life, +and perhaps the only cause of my Death?’ After having given some Moments +to the Violence of her Grief, she called the Maid, who brought her the +Letter, commanding her to speak of it to no body, and to suffer no one +to enter into her Chamber.</p> + +<p>She consider’d then of that Prince with more liberty, whose Soul she +was not able to touch with the least Tenderness; and of the cruel Fair +One that had betray’d her: Yet, even while her Soul was upon the Rack, +she was willing to excuse ’em, and ready to do all she could for <i>Don +Pedro</i>; at least, she made a firm Resolution, not to complain of +him.</p> + +<p><i>Elvira</i> was not long without being inform’d of what had pass’d, +nor of the Melancholy of the Princess, from whom she hop’d all she +desir’d.</p> + +<p><i>Agnes</i>, far from foreseeing this Tempest, return’d to +<i>Constantia</i>; and hearing of her Indisposition, pass’d the rest of +the Day at her Chamber-door, that she might from time to time learn news +of her Health: for she was not suffer’d to come in, at which +<i>Agnes</i> was both surpriz’d and troubled. The Prince had the same +Destiny, and was astonish’d at an Order which ought to have excepted +him.</p> + +<p>The next day <i>Constantia</i> appear’d, but so alter’d, that ’twas +not difficult to imagine what she had suffer’d. <i>Agnes</i> was the +most impatient to approach her, and the Princess +<span class = "pagenum">243</span> +could not forbear weeping, They were both silent for some time, and +<i>Constantia</i> attributed this silence of <i>Agnes</i> to some +Remorse which she felt: and this unhappy Maid being able to hold no +longer; ‘Is it possible, Madam, (said she) that two Days should have +taken from me all the Goodness you had for me? What have I done? And for +what do you punish me?’ The Princess regarded her with a languishing +Look, and return’d her no Answer but Sighs. <i>Agnes</i>, offended with +this reserve, went out with very great Dissatisfaction and Anger; which +contributed to her being thought criminal. The Prince came in +immediately after, and found <i>Constantia</i> more disorder’d than +usual, and conjur’d her in a most obliging manner to take care of her +Health: <i>The greatest good for me</i> (said she) <i>is not the +Continuation of my Life; I should have more care of it if I loved +you less: but—</i> She could not proceed; and the Prince, +excessively afflicted at her trouble, sigh’d sadly, without making her +any answer, which redoubled her Grief. Spite then began to mix it self; +and all things persuading the Princess that they made a Sacrifice of +her, she would enter into no Explanation with her Husband, but suffered +him to go away without saying any thing to him.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more capable of troubling our Reason, and consuming our +Health, than secret Notions of Jealousy in Solitude.</p> + +<p><i>Constantia</i>, who us’d to open her Heart freely to <i>Agnes</i>, +now believing she had deceiv’d her, abandon’d her self so absolutely to +Grief, that she was ready to sink under it; she immediately fell sick +with the violence of it, and all the Court was concern’d at this +Misfortune: <i>Don Pedro</i> was truly afflicted at it, but <i>Agnes</i> +more than all the World beside. <i>Constantia’s</i> Coldness towards +her, made her continually sigh; and her Distemper created merely by +fancy, caus’d her to reflect on every thing that offer’d it self to her +Memory: so that at last she began even to fear her self, and to reproach +her self for what the Princess suffer’d.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">244</span> +<p>But the Distemper began to be such, that they fear’d +<i>Constantia’s</i> Death, and she her self began to feel the Approaches +of it. This Thought did not at all disquiet her: she look’d on Death as +the only relief from all her Torments; and regarded the Despair of all +that approach’d her without the least concern.</p> + +<p>The King, who lov’d her tenderly, and who knew her Virtue, was +infinitely mov’d at the Extremity she was in. And <i>Don Alvaro</i>, who +lost not the least Occasion of making him understand that it was +Jealousy which was the cause of <i>Constantia’s</i> Distemper, did but +too much incense him against Criminals, worthy of Compassion. The King +was not of a Temper to conceal his Anger long: ‘You give fine Examples, +(said he to the Prince) and such as will render <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘yonr’">your</ins> Memory illustrious! +The Death of <i>Constantia</i> (of which you are only to be +accus’d) is the unhappy Fruit of your guilty Passion. Fear Heaven after +this: and behold your self as a Monster that does not deserve to see the +Light. If the Interest you have in my Blood did not plead for you, what +ought you not to fear from my just Resentment? But what must not +imprudent <i>Agnes</i>, to whom nothing ties me, expect from my hands? +If <i>Constantia</i> dies, she, who has the Boldness, in my Court, to +cherish a foolish Flame by vain Hopes, and make us lose the most amiable +Princess, whom thou art not worthy to possess, shall feel the Effects of +her Indiscretion.’</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i> knew very well, that <i>Constantia</i> was not +ignorant of his Sentiments for <i>Agnes</i>; but he knew also with what +Moderation she receiv’d it: He was very sensible of the King’s +Reproaches; but as his Fault was not voluntary, and that a commanding +Power, a fatal Star, had forc’d him to love in spite of himself, he +appear’d afflicted and confus’d: ‘You condemn me, Sir, +(answer’d he) without having well examin’d me; and if my Intentions +were known to you; perhaps you would not find me so criminal: +I would take the Princess for my Judge, +<span class = "pagenum">245</span> +whom you say I sacrifice, if she were in a condition to be consulted. If +I am guilty of any Weakness, her Justice never reproach’d me for it; and +my Tongue never inform’d <i>Agnes</i> of it. But suppose I have +committed any Fault, why would you punish an innocent Lady, who perhaps +condemns me for it as much as you? Ah, Villain! (interrupted the King) +she has but too much favour’d you: You would not have lov’d thus long, +had she not made you some Returns. Sir, (reply’d the Prince, pierced +with Grief for the Outrage that was committed against <i>Agnes</i>) you +offend a Virtue, than which nothing can be purer; and those Expressions +which break from your Choler, are not worthy of you. <i>Agnes</i> never +granted me any Favours; I never asked any of her; and I protest to +Heaven, I never thought of any thing contrary to the Duty I owe +<i>Constantia</i>.’</p> + +<p>As they thus argued, one of the Princess’s Women came all in Tears to +acquaint <i>Don Pedro</i>, that the Princess was in the last Extremities +of Life: ‘Go see thy fatal Work, (said the King) and expect from a +too-long patient Father the Usage thou deservest.’</p> + +<p>The Prince ran to <i>Constantia</i>, whom he found dying, and +<i>Agnes</i> in a swoon, in the Arms of some of the Ladies. What caus’d +this double Calamity, was, that <i>Agnes</i>, who could suffer no longer +the Indifferency of the Princess, had conjur’d her to tell her what was +her Crime, and either to take her Life from her, or restore her to her +Friendship.</p> + +<p><i>Constantia</i>, who found she must die, could no longer keep her +secret Affliction from <i>Agnes</i>; and after some Words, which were a +Preparation to the sad Explanation, she shewed her that fatal Billet, +which <i>Elvira</i> had caus’d to be written: ‘Ah, Madam! (cry’d out the +fair <i>Agnes</i>, after having read it) Ah, Madam! how many cruel +Inquietudes had you spared me had you open’d your Heart to me with your +wonted Bounty! ’Tis easy to see that this Letter is counterfeit, and +that I have Enemies without +<span class = "pagenum">246</span> +Compassion. Could you believe the Prince so imprudent, to make use of +any other Hand but his own, on an occasion like this? And do you believe +me so simple to keep about me this Testimony of my Shame, with so little +Precaution? You are neither betray’d by your Husband nor me; +I attest Heaven, and those Efforts I have made to leave +<i>Coimbra</i>. Alas, my dear Princess, how little have you known her, +whom you have so much honoured? Do not believe that when I have +justify’d my self, I will have any more Communication with the +World: No, no; there will be no Retreat far enough from hence for me. +I will take care to hide this unlucky Face, where it shall be sure +to do no more harm.’</p> + +<p>The Princess touched at this Discourse, and the Tears of +<i>Agnes</i>, press’d her hand, which she held in hers; and fixing Looks +upon her capable of moving Pity in the most insensible Souls, ‘If I have +committed any Offence, my dear <i>Agnes</i>, (answer’d she) Death, which +I expect in a moment, shall revenge it. I ought also to protest to +you, That I have not ceas’d loving you, and that I believe every thing +you have said, giving you back my most tender Affections.’</p> + +<p>’Twas at this time that the Grief, which equally oppress’d ’em, put +the Princess into such an Extremity, that they sent for the Prince. He +came, and found himself almost without Life or Motion at this sight. And +what secret Motive soever might call him to the aid of <i>Agnes</i>, +’twas to <i>Constantia</i> he ran. The Princess, who finding her last +Moments drawing on, by a cold Sweat that cover’d her all over; and +finding she had no more business with Life, and causing those Persons +she most suspected to retire, ‘Sir, (said she to <i>Don Pedro</i>) if I +abandon Life without regret, it is not without Trouble that I part with +you. But, Prince, we must vanquish when we come to die; and I will +forget my self wholly, to think of nothing but of you. I have no +Reproaches to make against you, +<span class = "pagenum">247</span> +knowing that ’tis Inclination that disposes Hearts, and not Reason. +<i>Agnes</i> is beautiful enough to inspire the most ardent Passion, and +virtuous enough to deserve the first Fortunes in the World. I ask +her, once more, pardon for the Injustice I have done her, and recommend +her to you, as a Person most dear to me. Promise me, my dear Prince, +before I expire, to give her my Place in your Throne: it cannot be +better fill’d: you cannot chuse a Princess more perfect for your People, +nor a better Mother for our little Children. And you my dear and +faithful <i>Agnes</i> (pursu’d she) listen not to a Virtue too +scrupulous, that may make any opposition to the Prince of +<i>Portugal</i>: Refuse him not a Heart of which he is worthy; and give +him that Friendship which you had for me, with that which is due to his +Merit. Take care of my little <i>Fernando</i>, and the two young +Princesses: let them find me in you, and speak to them sometimes of me. +Adieu, live both of you happy, and receive my last Embraces.’</p> + +<p>The afflicted <i>Agnes</i>, who had recover’d a little her Forces, +lost them again a second time; Her Weakness was follow’d with +Convulsions so vehement, that they were afraid of her Life; but <i>Don +Pedro</i> never removed from <i>Constantia</i>: ‘What, Madam +(said he) you will leave me then; and you think ’tis for my Good. +Alas, <i>Constantia</i>! if my Heart has committed an Outrage against +you, your Virtue has sufficiently revenged you on me in spite of you. +Can you think me so barbarous?’—As he was going on, he saw Death +shut the Eyes of the most generous Princess for ever; and he was within +a very little of following her.</p> + +<p>But what Loads of Grief did this bring upon <i>Agnes</i>, when she +found in that Interval, wherein Life and Death were struggling in her +Soul, that <i>Constantia</i> was newly expir’d! She would then have +taken away her own Life, and have let her Despair fully appear.</p> + +<p>At the noise of the Death of the Princess, the Town and the Palace +were all in Tears. <i>Elvira</i>, who saw then +<span class = "pagenum">248</span> +<i>Don Pedro</i> free to engage himself, repented of having contributed +to the Death of <i>Constantia</i>; and thinking her self the Cause of +it, promis’d in her Griefs never to pardon herself.</p> + +<p>She had need of being guarded several days together; during which +time she fail’d not incessantly to weep. And the Prince gave all those +days to deepest Mourning. But when the first Emotions were past, those +of his Love made him feel that he was still the same.</p> + +<p>He was a long time without seeing <i>Agnes</i>; but this Absence of +his served only to make her appear the more charming when he did see +her.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i>, who was afraid of the Liberty of the Prince, made +new Efforts to move <i>Agnes de Castro</i>, who was now become +insensible to every thing but Grief. <i>Elvira</i>, who was willing to +make the best of the Design she had begun, consulted all her Womens +Arts, and the Delicacy of her Wit, to revive the Flames with which the +Prince once burnt for her: But his Constancy was bounded, and it was +<i>Agnes</i> alone that was to reign over his Heart. She had taken a +firm Resolution, since the Death of <i>Constantia</i>, to pass the rest +of her Days in a solitary Retreat. In spite of the precaution she took +to hide this Design, the Prince was informed of it, and did all he was +able to dispose his Constancy and Fortitude to it. He thought himself +stronger than he really was; but after he had well consulted his Heart, +he found but too well how necessary the Presence of <i>Agnes</i> was to +him. ‘Madam (said he to her one day, with a Heart big, and his Eyes in +Tears) which Action of my Life has made you determine my Death? Tho’ +I never told you how much I loved you, yet I am persuaded you are +not ignorant of it. I was constrained to be silent during some +Years for your sake, for <i>Constantia’s</i>, and my own; but ’tis not +possible for me to put this force upon my Heart for ever: I must +once at least tell you how it languishes. Receive then the Assurances of +a Passion, full of Respect +<span class = "pagenum">249</span> +and Ardour, with an offer of my Fortune, which I wish not better, but +for your advantage.’</p> + +<p><i>Agnes</i> answer’d not immediately to these words, but with +abundance of Tears; which having wiped away, and beholding <i>Don +Pedro</i> with an air which made him easily comprehend she did not agree +with his Desires; ‘If I were capable of the Weakness with which you’d +inspire me, you’d be obliged to punish me for it: What! (said she) +<i>Constantia</i> is scarce bury’d, and you would have me offend her! +No, my Prince (added she with more Softness) no, no, she whom you have +heap’d so many Favours on, will not call down the Anger of Heaven, and +the Contempt of Men upon her, by an Action so perfidious. Be not +obstinate then in a Design in which I will never shew you Favour. You +owe to <i>Constantia</i>, after her Death, a Fidelity that may +justify you: and I, to repair the Ills I have made her suffer ought to +shun all converse with you.’ ‘Go, Madam (reply’d the Prince, growing +pale) go, and expect the News of my Death; in that part of the World, +whither your Cruelty shall lead you, the News shall follow close after; +you shall quickly hear of it: and I will go seek it in those Wars which +reign among my Neighbours.’</p> + +<p>These Words made the fair <i>Agnes de Castro</i> perceive that her +Innocency was not so great as she imagined, and that her Heart +interested it self in the Preservation of <i>Don Pedro</i>: ‘You ought, +Sir, to preserve your Life (reply’d <i>Agnes</i>) for the sake of the +little Prince and Princesses, which <i>Constantia</i> has left you. +Would you abandon their Youth (continued she, with a tender Tone) to the +Cruelty of <i>Don Alvaro</i>? Live! Sir, live! and let the unhappy +<i>Agnes</i> be the only Sacrifice.’ ‘Alas, cruel Maid! (interrupted +<i>Don Pedro</i>) Why do you command me to live, if I cannot live with +you? Is it an effect of your Hatred?’ ‘No, Sir, (reply’d <i>Agnes</i>) I +do not hate you; and I wish to God that I could be able to defend my +self against the Weakness with which I find my self possess’d. Oblige me +to say no +<span class = "pagenum">250</span> +more, Sir: you see my Blushes, interpret them as you please: but +consider yet, that the less Aversion I find I have to you, the more +culpable I am; and that I ought no more to see, or speak to you. In +fine, Sir, if you oppose my Retreat, I declare to you, that <i>Don +Alvaro</i>, as odious as he is to me, shall serve for a Defence against +you; and that I will sooner consent to marry a Man I abhor, than to +favour a Passion that cost <i>Constantia</i> her Life.’ ‘Well then, +<i>Agnes</i> (reply’d the Prince, with Looks all languishing and dying) +follow the Motions which barbarous Virtue inspires you with; take these +Measures you judge necessary against an unfortunate Lover, and enjoy the +Glory of having cruelly refused me.’</p> + +<p>At these Words he went away; and troubled as <i>Agnes</i> was, she +would not stay him: Her Courage combated with her Grief, and she thought +now, more than ever, of departing.</p> + +<p>’Twas difficult for her to go out of <i>Coimbra</i>; and not to defer +what appear’d to her so necessary, she went immediately to the Apartment +of the King, notwith­standing the Interest of <i>Don Alvaro</i>. The +King received her with a Countenance severe, not being able to consent +to what she demanded: <i>You shall not go hence, <em>(said he)</em> +and if you are wise, you shall enjoy here with <em>Don Alvaro</em> both +my Friendship and my Favour. I have taken another Resolution +(<em>answer’d</em> Agnes) and the World has no part in it. You will +accept <em>Don Pedro (reply’d the King)</em> his Fortune is sufficient +to satisfy an ambitious Maid: but you will not succeed +<em>Constantia</em>, who lov’d you so tenderly; and <em>Spain</em> has +Princesses enough to fill up part of the Throne which I shall leave him. +Sir, (<em>reply’d</em> Agnes, <em>piqu’d at this Discourse</em>) if I +had a Disposition to love, and a Design to marry, perhaps the Prince +might be the only Person on whom I would fix it: And you know, if my +Ancestors did not possess Crowns, yet they were worthy to wear ’em. But +let it be how it will, I am resolved to depart, and to remain no +longer a Slave in a Place to which I came free.</i></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">251</span> +<p>This bold Answer, which shew’d the Character of <i>Agnes</i>, anger’d +and astonished the King. <i>You shall go when we think fit +<em>(reply’d he)</em> and without being a Slave at +<em>Coimbra</em>, you shall attend our order.</i></p> + +<p><i>Agnes</i> saw she must stay, and was so griev’d at it, that she +kept her Chamber several days, without daring to inform herself of the +Prince; and this Retirement spared her the Affliction of being visited +by <i>Don Alvaro</i>.</p> + +<p>During this, <i>Don Pedro</i> fell sick, and was in so great danger, +that there was a general apprehension of his Death. <i>Agnes</i> did not +in the least doubt, but it was an effect of his Discontent: she thought +at first she had Strength and Resolution enough to see him die, rather +than to favour him; but had she reflected a little, she had soon been +convinc’d to the contrary. She found not in her Heart that cruel +Constancy she thought there so well established: She felt Pains and +Inquietude, shed Tears, made Wishes; and, in fine, discover’d that she +lov’d.</p> + +<p>’Twas impossible to see the Heir of the Crown, a Prince that deserved +so well, even at the point of Death, without a general Affliction. The +People who loved him, pass’d whole days at the Palace-gate to hear News +of him: The Court was all over-whelm’d with Grief.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i> knew very well how to conceal a malicious Joy, +under an Appearance of Sadness. <i>Elvira</i>, full of Tenderness, and +perhaps of Remorse, suffer’d also on her side. The King, altho’ he +condemned the Love of his Son, yet still had a Tenderness for him, and +could not resolve to lose him. <i>Agnes de Castro</i>, who knew the +Cause of his Distemper, expected the End of it with strange Anxieties: +In fine, after a Month had pass’d away in Fears, they began to have a +little hopes of his Recovery. The Prince and <i>Don Alvaro</i> were the +only Persons that were not glad of it: But <i>Agnes</i> rejoic’d enough +for all the rest.</p> + +<p><i>Don Pedro</i>, seeing that he must live whether he wou’d or no, +thought of nothing but passing his days in melancholy +<span class = "pagenum">252</span> +and discontent: As soon as he was in a condition to walk, he sought out +the most solitary Places, and gain’d so much upon his own Weakness, to +go every where, where <i>Agnes</i> was not; but her Idea followed him +always, and his Memory, faithful to represent her to him with all her +Charms, render’d her always dangerous.</p> + +<p>One day, when they had carry’d him into the Garden, he sought out a +Labyrinth which was at the farthest part of it, to hide his Melancholy, +during some hours; there he found the sad <i>Agnes</i>, whom Grief, +little different from his, had brought thither; the sight of her whom he +expected not, made him tremble: She saw by his pale and meagre Face the +remains of his Distemper; his Eyes full of Languishment troubled her, +and tho’ her Desire was so great to have fled from him, an unknown Power +stopt her, and ’twas impossible for her to go.</p> + +<p>After some Moments of Silence, which many Sighs interrupted, <i>Don +Pedro</i> rais’d himself from the Place where his Weakness had forced +him to sit; he made <i>Agnes</i> see, as he approach’d her, the sad +Marks of his Sufferings: and not content with the Pity he saw in her +Eyes, <i>You have resolved my Death then, cruel <em>Agnes</em>, +<em>(said he)</em> my desire was the same with yours; but Heaven +has thought fit to reserve me for other Misfortunes, and I see you +again, as unhappy, but more in love than ever.</i></p> + +<p>There was no need of these Words to move <i>Agnes</i> to compassion, +the Languishment of the Prince spoke enough; and the Heart of this fair +Maid was but too much disposed to yield it self: She thought then that +<i>Constantia</i> ought to be satisfy’d; Love, which combated for <i>Don +Pedro</i>, triumphed over Friendship, and found that happy Moment, for +which the Prince of <i>Portugal</i>, had so long sighed.</p> + +<p><i>Do not reproach me, for that which has cost me more than you, Sir, +<em>(replied she)</em> and do not accuse a Heart, which is neither +ingrateful nor barbarous: and I must tell you, that I love you. But now +I have made you that Confession, what +<span class = "pagenum">253</span> +is it farther that you require of me?</i> <i>Don Pedro</i>, who expected +not a Change so favourable, felt a double Satisfaction; and falling at +the Feet of <i>Agnes</i>, he express’d more by the Silence his Passion +created, than he could have done by the most eloquent Words.</p> + +<p>After having known all his good Fortune, he then consulted with the +amiable <i>Agnes</i>, what was to be feared from the King; they +concluded that the cruel Billet, which so troubled the last days of +<i>Constantia</i>, could come from none but <i>Elvira</i> and <i>Don +Alvaro</i>. The Prince, who knew that his Father had searched already an +Alliance for him, and was resolv’d on his Favourite’s marrying +<i>Agnes</i>, conjur’d her so tenderly to prevent these Persecutions, by +consenting to a secret Marriage, that, after having a long time +consider’d, she at last consented. <i>I will do what you will have +me</i> (said she) <i>tho’ I presage nothing but fatal Events from +it; all my Blood turns to Ice, when I think of this Marriage, and the +Image of <em>Constantia</em> seems to hinder me from +doing it.</i></p> + +<p>The amorous Prince surmounted all her Scruples, and separated himself +from <i>Agnes</i>, with a Satisfaction which soon redoubled his Forces; +he saw her afterward with the Pleasure of a Mystery: And the Day of +their Union being arrived, <i>Don Gill</i>, Bishop of <i>Guarda</i>, +performed the Ceremony of the Marriage, in the Presence of several +Witnesses, faithful to <i>Don Pedro</i>, who saw him Possessor of all +the Charms of the fair <i>Agnes</i>.</p> + +<p>She lived not the more peaceable for belonging to the Prince of +<i>Portugal</i>; her Enemies, who continually persecuted her, left her +not without Troubles: and the King, whom her Refusal inrag’d, laid his +absolute Commands on her to marry <i>Don Alvaro</i>, with Threats to +force her to it, if she continu’d rebellious.</p> + +<p>The Prince took loudly her part; and this, join’d to the Refusal he +made of marrying the Princess of <i>Arragon</i>, caus’d Suspicions of +the Truth in the King his Father. +<span class = "pagenum">254</span> +He was seconded by those that were too much interested, not to unriddle +this Secret. <i>Don Alvaro</i> and his Sister acted with so much care, +gave so many Gifts, and made so many Promises, that they discover’d the +secret Engagements of <i>Don Pedro</i> and <i>Agnes</i>.</p> + +<p>The King wanted but little of breaking out into all the Rage and Fury +so great a Disappointment could inspire him with, against the Princess. +<i>Don Alvaro</i>, whose Love was changed into the most violent Hatred, +appeased the first Transports of the King, by making him comprehend, +that if they could break the Marriage of ’em, that would not be a +sufficient Revenge; and so poison’d the Soul of the King, to consent to +the Death of <i>Agnes</i>.</p> + +<p>The barbarous <i>Don Alvaro</i> offered his Arm for this terrible +Execution, and his Rage was Security for the Sacrifice.</p> + +<p>The King, who thought the Glory of his Family disgraced by this +Alliance, and his own in particular in the Procedure of his Son, gave +full Power to this Murderer, to make the innocent <i>Agnes</i> a Victim +to his Rage.</p> + +<p>It was not easy to execute this horrid Design: Tho’ the Prince saw +<i>Agnes</i> but in secret, yet all his Cares were still awake for her, +and he was marry’d to her above a Year, before <i>Don Alvaro</i> could +find out an opportunity so long sought for.</p> + +<p>The Prince diverted himself but little, and very rarely went far from +<i>Coimbra</i>; but on a Day, an unfortunate Day, and marked out by +Heaven for an unheard-of and horrid Assassination, he made a Party to +hunt at a fine House, which the King of <i>Portugal</i> had near the +City.</p> + +<p><i>Agnes</i> lov’d every thing that gave the Prince satisfaction; but +a secret Trouble made her apprehend some Misfortune in this unhappy +Journey. <i>Sir</i>, (said she to him, alarm’d, without knowing the +Reason why) <i>I tremble, seeing you today as it were designed the +last of my Life: Preserve your self, my dear Prince; and tho’ the +Exercise you take be not +<span class = "pagenum">255</span> +very dangerous, beware of the least Hazards, and bring me back all that +I trust with you. Don Pedro</i>, who had never found her so handsome and +so charming before, embraced her several times, and went out of the +Palace with his Followers, with a Design not to return till the next +Day.</p> + +<p>He was no sooner gone, but the cruel <i>Don Alvaro</i> prepared +himself for the Execution he had resolv’d on; he thought it of that +importance, that it required more Hands than his own, and so chose for +his Companions <i>Don Lopez Pacheo</i>, and <i>Pedro Cuello</i>, two +Monsters like himself, whose Cruelty he was assur’d of by the Presents +he had made ’em.</p> + +<p>They waited the coming of the Night, and the lovely <i>Agnes</i> was +in her first Sleep, which was the last of her Life, when these Assassins +approach’d her Bed. Nothing made resistance to <i>Don Alvaro</i>, who +could do every thing, and whom the blackest Furies introduced to +<i>Agnes</i>; she waken’d, and opening her Curtains, saw, by the Candle +burning in her Chamber, the Ponyard with which <i>Don Alvaro</i> was +armed; he having his Face not cover’d, she easily knew him, and +forgetting herself, to think of nothing but the Prince: <i>Just +Heaven</i> (said she, lifting up her fine Eyes) <i>if you will revenge +<em>Constantia</em>, satisfy your self with my Blood only, and spare +that of</i> Don Pedro. The barbarous Man that heard her, gave her not +time to say more; and finding he could never (by all he could do by +Love) touch the Heart of the fair <i>Agnes</i>, he pierc’d it with his +Ponyard: his Accomplices gave her several Wounds, tho’ there was no +necessity of so many to put an end to an innocent Life.</p> + +<p>What a sad Spectacle was this for those who approach’d her Bed the +next day! And what dismal News was this to the unfortunate Prince of +<i>Portugal</i>! He returned to <i>Coimbra</i> at the first report of +this Adventure, and saw what had certainly cost him his Life, if Men +could die of Grief. After having a thousand times embraced the bloody +Body of <i>Agnes</i>, and said all that a just Despair could inspire him +with, he ran like a Mad-man into the Palace, demanding +<span class = "pagenum">256</span> +the Murderers of his Wife, of things that could not hear him. In fine, +he saw the King, and without observing any respect, he gave a loose to +his Resentment: after having rail’d a long time, overwhelm’d with Grief, +he fell into a Swoon, which continu’d all that day. They carry’d him +into his Apartment: and the King, believing that his Misfortune would +prove his Cure, repented not of what he had permitted.</p> + +<p><i>Don Alvaro</i>, and the two other Assassins, quitted +<i>Coimbra</i>. This Absence of theirs made ’em appear guilty of the +Crime; for which the afflicted Prince vow’d a speedy Vengeance to the +Ghost of his lovely <i>Agnes</i>, resolving to pursue them to the +uttermost part of the Universe; He got a considerable number of Men +together, sufficient to have made resistance, even to the King of +<i>Portugal</i> himself, if he should yet take the part of the +Murderers: with these he ravaged the whole Country, as far as the +<i>Duero</i> Waters, and carry’d on a War, even till the Death of the +King, continually mixing Tears with Blood, which he gave to the revenge +of his dearest <i>Agnes</i>.</p> + + +<p class = "space"> +Such was the deplorable End of the unfortunate Love of <i>Don Pedro</i> +of <i>Portugal</i>, and of the fair <i>Agnes de Castro</i>, whose +Remembrance he faithfully preserv’d in his Heart, even upon the Throne, +to which he mounted by the Right of his Birth, after the Death of the +King.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">257</span> +<a name = "history_nun" id = "history_nun"> </a> + +<h3>THE HISTORY OF THE NUN;<br> +OR, THE FAIR VOW-BREAKER.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">259</span> +<h4><a name = "history_intro" id = "history_intro"> +INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">In</span> the Epistle Dedicatory to Antony +Hammond, Esq., of Somersham-Place, prefacing that pathetic tragedy, +<i>The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery</i><a class = "tag" +name = "tag_nun_1" id = "tag_nun_1" href = "#note_nun_1">1</a> (4to, +1694), Southerne writes: ‘I took the Hint of the Tragical part of +this Play from a Novel of Mrs. <i>Behn’s</i>, call’d <i>The Fair +Vow-Breaker</i>; you will forgive me for calling it a Hint, when you +find I have little more than borrow’d the Question, how far such a +Distress was to be carry’d, upon the Misfortune of a Woman’s having +innocently two Husbands, at the same time’.</p> + +<p>In the many collected editions of Mrs. Behn’s popular novels and +histories, from the first, published under the auspices of Gildon in +1696, to the ninth (2 vols, 12mo, London, 1751), there appears, +however, no such novel as <i>The Fair Vow-Breaker</i>, but on the other +hand all contain <i>The Nun; or, the Perjur’d Beauty</i>. For over two +hundred years then, critics, theatrical historians, bibliographers alike +have laid down that <i>The Fair Vow-Breaker</i> is merely another title +for <i>The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty</i>, and that it is to this +romance we must look for the source of Southerne’s tragedy. The slight +dissimilarity of name was truly of no great account. On the title-page +of another novel we have <i>The Fair Jilt; or, The History of Prince +Tarquin and Miranda</i>; on the half-title of the same <i>The Fair +Hypocrite; or, The Amours of Prince Tarquin and Miranda</i> (12mo, +1688). And so Thomas Evans in the preface to his edition of Southerne +(3 vols, 1774), writing the dramatist’s life, says: ‘the plot by +the author’s confession is taken from a novel of Mrs. Behn’s called +<i>The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker</i>’. All the modern writers have +duly, but wrongly, accepted this; and Miss Charlotte E. Morgan in her +monograph, <i>The English Novel till 1749</i>, informs us in more than +one place that <i>The Fair Vow-Breaker</i> (12mo, 1689) was the name of +the editio princeps of <i>The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty</i>.</p> + +<p>A crux, however, was soon apparent. Upon investigation it is obvious +that the plot of <i>The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery</i> +has simply nothing in common with <i>The Nun; or, The Perjur’d +Beauty</i>. Mrs. Behn’s Ardelia is a mere coquette who through her +trifling with three different men is responsible for five deaths: her +lovers’, Elvira’s, and her own. Isabella, Southerne’s heroine, on the +other hand, falls a sad victim to the machinations of Carlos, her wicked +brother-in-law. She is virtuous and constant; Ardelia is a jade capable +of heartless treachery. Both novel and play end tragically it is true, +but from entirely different motives and in a dissimilar manner. There is +no likeness between them.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">260</span> +<p>Whence then did Southerne derive his plot, and what exactly did he +mean by the statement that he owed ‘the Hint of the Tragical part’ of +his drama to a novel of Mrs. Behn’s?</p> + +<p>Professor Paul Hamelius of Liège set out to solve the difficulty, and +in a scholarly article (<i>Modern Language Review</i>, July, 1909), he +marshals the facts and seeks a solution. ‘Among her [Mrs. Behn’s] +collected novels’<a class = "tag" name = "tag_nun_2" id = "tag_nun_2" +href = "#note_nun_2">2</a> he writes ‘there is one entitled <i>The Nun; +or, The Perjur’d Beauty</i> and Mr. Gosse has kindly informed me that +the story is identical with <i>The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker</i> +which appears in the editio princeps of 1689 (inaccessible to me).’ +Unfortunately he can find no analogy and is obliged to draw attention to +other sources. He points to <i>The Virgin Captive</i>, the fifth story +in Roger L’Estrange’s <i>The Spanish Decameron</i> (1687). Again: there +is the famous legend of the lovers of Teruel as dramatized in 1638 by +Juan Perez de Montalvan, <i>Los Amantes de Teruel</i>. An earlier +comedia exists on the same subject written by A. Rey de Artieda, +1581, and yet another play by Tirso de Molina, 1635, based on Artieda. +Hamelius was obviously not satisfied with his researches, and with a +half-suggestion that Southerne may have merely intended to pay a +compliment to his ‘literary friend Mrs. Behn,’ his conclusion is that +‘the question is naturally still open whether Southerne was not drawing +from some more immediate source—possibly even from some lost +version of the story by Mrs. Behn herself.’</p> + +<p>In the course of my preparing the present edition of Mrs. Behn’s +complete works, Mr. Gosse, adding yet another to innumerable kindnesses +and encouragements, entrusted me with a little volume<a class = "tag" +name = "tag_nun_3" id = "tag_nun_3" href = "#note_nun_3">3</a> from his +private library: <i>The History of the Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker</i> +(12mo, 1689, Licensed 22 October, 1688), and I soon found this to be the +immediate source of Southerne’s tragedy, a totally different novel +from <i>The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty</i>, and one, moreover, which +has never till now been included in any edition of Mrs. Behn’s works or, +indeed, reprinted in any form. It were superfluous to compare novel and +tragedy detail by detail. Many striking, many minor points are the same +in each. In several instances the nomenclature has been preserved. The +chief divergence is, of course, the main catastrophe. Mrs. Behn’s +execution could ill have been represented on the boards, and Southerne’s +heroine, the victim of villainies and intrigue, is, it must be +confessed, an infinitely more pathetic figure than guilty Isabella in +the romance.</p> + +<p>The story of a man returning after long absence and finding his +spouse (or betrothed) wedded to another, familiarized to the +generality of modern readers by Tennyson’s <i>Enoch Arden</i>, occurs in +every shape and tongue. No. 69 of <i>Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles</i> is +<i>L’Honneste femme à Deux Maris</i>.<a class = "tag" name = "tag_nun_4" +id = "tag_nun_4" href = "#note_nun_4">4</a> A more famous exemplar +we have in the <i>Decameron</i>, Day IV, Novella 8, whose rubric runs: +‘Girolamo ama la Salvestra: va, costretto da’ prieghi +<span class = "pagenum">261</span> +della madre, a Parigi: torna, e truovala maritata: entrale di +nascoso in casa, e muorle allato; e portato in una chiesa, +muore la Salvestra allata a lui.’</p> + +<p>Scenes of the amusing underplot of <i>The Fatal Marriage</i> which +contain some excellent comedy, Southerne took directly from <i>The Night +Walker; or, The Little Thief</i> (printed as Fletcher’s in 1640 and +‘corrected by Shirley’ in 1633 according to Herbert’s license). The +purgatorial farce may be traced to the <i>Decameron</i>, Day III, 8. +‘Ferondo, mangiata certa polvere, è sotterrato per morto: +e dall’ abate, chi la moglie di lui si gode, tratto dalla +sepoltura, è messo in prigione e fattogli credere, che egli è in +purgatoro; e poi risuscitato . . .’ It is the <i>Feronde; +ou, le Purgatoire</i> of La Fontaine.</p> + +<p><i>The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery</i> long kept the +stage.<a class = "tag" name = "tag_nun_5" id = "tag_nun_5" href = +"#note_nun_5">5</a> On 2 December, 1757, Garrick’s version, which +omitting the comic relief weakens and considerably shortens the play, +was produced at Drury Lane with himself as Biron and Mrs. Cibber as +Isabella. The actual name of the tragedy, however, was not changed to +<i>Isabella</i> till some years after. Mrs. Barry, the original +Isabella, was acknowledged supreme in this tragedy, and our greatest +actresses, Mrs. Porter, Mrs. Crawford, Miss Young, Mrs. Siddons, Miss +O’Neill, have all triumphed in the rôle.</p> + +<div class = "footnote"> +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_nun_1" id = "note_nun_1" href = +"#tag_nun_1">1</a> +This has nothing to do with Scarron’s novel, <i>L’ Innocent Adultère</i> +which translated was so popular in the 17th and 18th centuries. Bellmour +carried it in his pocket when he went a-courting Laetitia, to the horror +of old Fondlewife who discovered the tome, (<i>The Old Batchelor</i>, +1693), and Lydia Languish was partial to its perusal in 1775.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_nun_2" id = "note_nun_2" href = +"#tag_nun_2">2</a> +Hamelius used the collected edition of 1705.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_nun_3" id = "note_nun_3" href = +"#tag_nun_3">3</a> +It is interesting to note that the book originally belonged to Scott’s +friend and critic, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_nun_4" id = "note_nun_4" href = +"#tag_nun_4">4</a> +Reproduced by Celio Malespini <i>Ducento Novelle</i>, No. +9 (Venice, 4to, 1609, but probably written about thirty years +before).</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_nun_5" id = "note_nun_5" href = +"#tag_nun_5">5</a> +A French prose translation of Southerne is to be found in Vol. VIII of +<i>Le Theâtre Anglois</i>, Londres, 1746. It is entitled <i>L’Adultère +Innocent</i>; but the comic underplot is very sketchily analyzed, scene +by scene, and the whole is very mediocre withal.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<span class = "pagenum">262</span> + + +<h5><a name = "history_dedic" id = "history_dedic"> +To the Most Illustrious Princess,</a><br> +<a class = "comm" name = "nun_commtag1" id = "nun_commtag1" href = +"#nun_comm1">The Dutchess of Mazarine</a>.</h5> + +<p>Madam,</p> + +<p>There are none of an Illustrious Quality, who have not been made, by +some Poet or other, the Patronesses of his Distress’d Hero, or +Unfortunate Damsel; and such Addresses are Tributes, due only to the +most Elevated, where they have always been very well receiv’d, since +they are the greatest Testimonies we can give, of our Esteem and +Veneration.</p> + +<p>Madam, when I survey’d the whole Toor of Ladies at Court, which was +adorn’d by you, who appear’d there with a Grace and Majesty, peculiar to +Your Great Self only, mix’d with an irresistible Air of Sweetness, +Generosity, and Wit, I was impatient for an Opportunity, to tell +Your Grace, how infinitely one of Your own Sex ador’d You, and that, +among all the numerous Conquest, Your Grace has made over the Hearts of +Men, Your Grace had not subdu’d a more entire Slave; I assure you, +Madam, there is neither Compliment nor Poetry, in this humble +Declaration, but a Truth, which has cost me a great deal of Inquietude, +for that Fortune has not set me in such a Station, as might justifie my +Pretence to the honour and satisfaction of being ever near Your Grace, +to view eternally that lovely Person, and hear that surprizing Wit; what +can be more grateful to a Heart, than so great, and so agreeable, an +Entertainment? And how few Objects are there, that can render it so +entire a Pleasure, as at once to hear you speak, and to look upon your +Beauty? A Beauty that is heighten’d, if possible, with an air of +Negligence, in Dress, wholly Charming, as if your Beauty disdain’d those +little Arts of your Sex, whose Nicety alone is their greatest Charm, +while yours, Madam, even without the Assistance of your exalted Birth, +begets an Awe and Reverence in all that do approach you, and every one +is proud, and pleas’d, in paying you Homage their several ways, +according to their Capacities and Talents; mine, Madam, can only be +exprest by my Pen, which would be infinitely honour’d, in being +permitted to celebrate your great Name for ever, and perpetually to +serve, where it has so great an inclination.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Madam, I presume to lay this little Trifle at your +Feet; the Story is true, as it is on the Records of the Town, where it +was transacted; and if my fair unfortunate VOW-BREAKER do not deserve +the honour of your Graces Protection, at least, she will be found worthy +of your Pity; which will be a sufficient Glory, both for her, and,</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +<span class = "gap"> </span>Madam,<br> +Your Graces most humble,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>and most obedient Servant,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>A. BEHN.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">263</span> + +<h4><a name = "history_main" id = "history_main"> +THE HISTORY OF THE NUN;</a><br> +or, The Fair Vow-Breaker.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">Of</span> all the sins, incident to Human +Nature, there is none, of which Heaven has took so particular, visible, +and frequent Notice, and Revenge, as on that of <i>Violated Vows</i>, +which never go unpunished; and the <i>Cupids</i> may boast what they +will, for the encouragement of their Trade of Love, that Heaven never +takes cognisance of Lovers broken Vows and Oaths, and that ’tis the only +Perjury that escapes the Anger of the <i>Gods</i>; But I verily believe, +if it were search’d into, we should find these frequent Perjuries, that +pass in the World for so many Gallantries only, to be the occasion of so +many unhappy Marriages, and the cause of all those Misfortunes, which +are so frequent to the Nuptiall’d Pair. For not one of a Thousand, but, +either on his side, or on hers, has been perjur’d, and broke Vows made +to some fond believing Wretch, whom they have abandon’d and undone. What +Man that does not boast of the Numbers he has thus ruin’d, and, who does +not glory in the shameful Triumph? Nay, what Woman, almost, has not a +pleasure in Deceiving, taught, perhaps, at first, by some dear false +one, who had fatally instructed her Youth in an Art she ever after +practis’d, in Revenge on all those she could be too hard for, and +conquer at their own Weapons? For, without all dispute, Women are by +Nature more Constant and Just, than Men, and did not their first Lovers +teach them the trick of Change, they would be <i>Doves</i>, that would +never quit their Mate, and, like <i>Indian</i> Wives, would leap alive +into the Graves of their deceased Lovers, and be buried quick +<span class = "pagenum">264</span> +with ’em. But Customs of Countries change even Nature her self, and long +Habit takes her place: The Women are taught, by the Lives of the Men, to +live up to all their Vices, and are become almost as inconstant; and +’tis but Modesty that makes the difference, and, hardly, inclination; so +deprav’d the nicest Appetites grow in time, by bad Examples.</p> + +<p>But, as there are degrees of Vows, so there are degrees of +Punishments for Vows, there are solemn Matrimonial Vows, such as +contract and are the most effectual Marriage, and have the most reason +to be so; there are a thousand Vows and Friendships, that pass between +Man and Man, on a thousand Occasions; but there is another Vow, call’d a +<i>Sacred Vow</i>, made to God only; and, by which, we oblige our selves +eternally to serve him with all Chastity and Devotion: This Vow is only +taken, and made, by those that enter into Holy Orders, and, of all +broken Vows, these are those, that receive the most severe and notorious +Revenges of God; and I am almost certain, there is not one Example to be +produc’d in the World, where Perjuries of this nature have past +unpunish’d, nay, that have not been persu’d with the greatest and most +rigorous of Punishments. I could my self, of my own knowledge, give +an hundred Examples of the fatal Consequences of the Violation of Sacred +Vows; and who ever make it their business, and are curious in the search +of such Misfortunes, shall find, as I say, that they never go +unregarded.</p> + +<p>The young Beauty therefore, who dedicates her self to Heaven, and +weds her self for ever to the service of God, ought, first, very well to +consider the Self-denial she is going to put upon her youth, her fickle +faithless deceiving Youth, of one Opinion to day, and of another to +morrow; like Flowers, which never remain in one state or fashion, but +bud to day, and blow by insensible degrees, and decay as imperceptibly. +The Resolution, we promise, and believe +<span class = "pagenum">265</span> +we shall maintain, is not in our power, and nothing is so deceitful as +human Hearts.</p> + +<p>I once was design’d an humble Votary in the House of Devotion, but +fancying my self not endu’d with an obstinacy of Mind, great enough to +secure me from the Efforts and Vanities of the World, I rather +chose to deny my self that Content I could not certainly promise my +self, than to languish (as I have seen some do) in a certain +Affliction; tho’ possibly, since, I have sufficiently bewailed that +mistaken and inconsiderate Approbation and Preference of the false +ungrateful World, (full of nothing but Nonsense, Noise, false Notions, +and Contradiction) before the Innocence and Quiet of a Cloyster; +nevertheless, I could wish, for the prevention of abundance of +Mischiefs and Miseries, that Nunneries and Marriages were not to be +enter’d into, ’till the Maid, so destin’d, were of a mature Age to make +her own Choice; and that Parents would not make use of their justly +assum’d Authority to compel their Children, neither to the one or the +other; but since I cannot alter Custom, nor shall ever be allow’d to +make new Laws, or rectify the old ones, I must leave the Young Nuns +inclos’d to their best Endeavours, of making a Virtue of Necessity; and +the young Wives, to make the best of a bad Market.</p> + +<p>In <i>Iper</i>, a Town, not long since, in the Dominions of the King +of <i>Spain</i>, and now in possession of the King of <i>France</i>, +there liv’d a Man of Quality, of a considerable Fortune, call’d, Count +<i>Henrick de Vallary</i>, who had a very beautiful Lady, by whom, he +had one Daughter, call’d <i>Isabella</i>, whose Mother dying when she +was about two years old to the unspeakable Grief of the Count, her +Husband, he resolv’d never to partake of any Pleasure more, that this +transitory World could court him with, but determin’d, with himself, to +dedicate his Youth, and future Days, to Heaven, and to take upon him +Holy Orders; and, without considering, that, possibly, the young +<span class = "pagenum">266</span> +<i>Isabella</i>, when she grew to Woman, might have Sentiments contrary +to those that now possest him, he design’d she should also become a Nun; +However, he was not so positive in that Resolution, as to put the matter +wholly out of her Choice, but divided his Estate; one half he carried +with him to the Monastery of <i>Jesuits</i>, of which number, he became +one; and the other half, he gave with <i>Isabella</i>, to the Monastery, +of which, his only Sister was Lady <i>Abbess</i>, of the Order of St. +<i>Augustine</i>; but so he ordered the matter, that if, at the Age of +Thirteen, <i>Isabella</i> had not a mind to take Orders, or that the +Lady <i>Abbess</i> found her Inclination averse to a Monastick Life, she +should have such a proportion of the Revenue, as should be fit to marry +her to a Noble Man, and left it to the discretion of the Lady +<i>Abbess</i>, who was a Lady of known Piety, and admirable strictness +of Life, and so nearly related to <i>Isabella</i>, that there was no +doubt made of her Integrity and Justice.</p> + +<p>The little <i>Isabella</i> was carried immediately (in her Mourning +for her dead Mother) into the Nunnery, and was receiv’d as a very +diverting Companion by all the young Ladies, and, above all, by her +Reverend Aunt, for she was come just to the Age of delighting her +Parents; she was the prettiest forward Pratler in the World, and had a +thousand little Charms to please, besides the young Beauties that were +just budding in her little Angel Face: So that she soon became the dear +lov’d Favourite of the whole House; and as she was an Entertainment to +them all, so they made it their study to find all the Diversions they +could for the pretty <i>Isabella</i>; and as she grew in Wit and Beauty +every day, so they fail’d not to cultivate her Mind; and delicate +Apprehension, in all that was advantageous to her Sex, and whatever +Excellency any one abounded in, she was sure to communicate it to the +young <i>Isabella</i>, if one could Dance, another Sing, another play on +this Instrument, and another on that; if this spoke one +<span class = "pagenum">267</span> +Language, and that another; if she had Wit, and she Discretion, and a +third, the finest Fashion and Manners; all joyn’d to compleat the Mind +and Body of this beautiful young Girl; Who, being undiverted with the +less noble, and less solid, Vanities of the World, took to these +Virtues, and excell’d in all; and her Youth and Wit being apt for all +Impressions, she soon became a greater Mistress of their Arts, than +those who taught her; so that at the Age of eight or nine Years, she was +thought fit to receive and entertain all the great Men and Ladies, and +the Strangers of any Nation, at the <i>Grate</i>; and that with so +admirable a Grace, so quick and piercing a Wit, and so delightful and +sweet a Conversation, that she became the whole Discourse of the Town, +and Strangers spread her Fame, as prodigious, throughout the Christian +World; for Strangers came daily to hear her talk, and sing, and play, +and to admire her Beauty; and Ladies brought their Children, to shame +’em into good Fashion and Manners, with looking on the lovely young +<i>Isabella</i>.</p> + +<p>The Lady <i>Abbess</i>, her Aunt, you may believe, was not a little +proud of the Excellencies and Virtues of her fair <i>Niece</i>, and +omitted nothing that might adorn her Mind; because, not only of the +vastness of her Parts and Fame, and the Credit she would do her House, +by residing there for ever; but also, being very loth to part with her +considerable Fortune, which she must resign, if she returned into the +World, she us’d all her Arts and Stratagems to make her become a +<i>Nun</i>, to which all the fair Sisterhood contributed their Cunning, +but it was altogether needless; her Inclination, the strictness of her +Devotion, her early Prayers, and those continual, and innate +Stedfastness, and Calm, she was Mistress of; her Ignorance of the +World’s Vanities, and those that uninclos’d young Ladies count Pleasures +and Diversions, being all unknown to her, she thought there was no Joy +out of a <i>Nunnery</i>, and no Satisfactions on the other side of a +<i>Grate</i>.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">268</span> +<p>The Lady <i>Abbess</i>, seeing, that of her self she yielded faster +than she could expect; to discharge her Conscience to her Brother, who +came frequently to visit his Darling <i>Isabella</i>, would very often +discourse to her of the Pleasures of the World, telling her, how much +happier she would think her self, to be the Wife of some gallant young +Cavalier, and to have Coaches and Equipages; to see the World, to behold +a thousand Rarities she had never seen, to live in Splendor, to eat +high, and wear magnificent Clothes, to be bow’d to as she pass’d, and +have a thousand Adorers, to see in time a pretty Offspring, the products +of Love, that should talk, and look, and delight, as she did, the Heart +of their Parents; but to all, her Father and the Lady <i>Abbess</i> +could say of the World, and its Pleasures, <i>Isabella</i> brought a +thousand Reasons and Arguments, so Pious, so Devout, that the +<i>Abbess</i> was very well pleased, to find her (purposely weak) +Propositions so well overthrown; and gives an account of her daily +Discourses to her Brother, which were no less pleasing to him; and tho’ +<i>Isabella</i> went already dress’d as richly as her Quality deserv’d, +yet her Father, to try the utmost that the World’s Vanity could do, upon +her young Heart, orders the most Glorious Clothes should be bought her, +and that the Lady <i>Abbess</i> should suffer her to go abroad with +those Ladies of Quality, that were her Relations, and her Mother’s +Acquaintance; that she should visit and go on the Toore, (that is, the +Hide Park there) that she should see all that was diverting, to try, +whether it were not for want of Temptation to Vanity, that made her +leave the World, and love an inclos’d Life.</p> + +<p>As the Count had commanded, all things were performed; and +<i>Isabella</i> arriving at her Thirteenth Year of Age, and being pretty +tall of Stature, with the finest Shape that Fancy can create, with all +the Adornment of a perfect brown-hair’d Beauty, Eyes black and lovely, +Complexion fair; to a Miracle, all her Features of the rarest +proportion, the Mouth red, the Teeth white, and a thousand Graces +<span class = "pagenum">269</span> +in her Meen and Air; she came no sooner abroad, but she had a thousand +Persons fighting for love of her; the Reputation her Wit had acquir’d, +got her Adorers without seeing her, but when they saw her, they found +themselves conquer’d and undone; all were glad she was come into the +World, of whom they had heard so much, and all the Youth of the Town +dress’d only for <i>Isabella de Valerie</i>, <ins class = "correction" +title = "text reads ‘the’">that</ins> rose like a new Star that Eclips’d +all the rest, and which set the World a-gazing. Some hop’d, and some +despair’d, but all lov’d, while <i>Isabella</i> regarded not their Eyes, +their distant darling Looks of Love, and their signs of Adoration; she +was civil and affable to all, but so reserv’d, that none durst tell her +his Passion, or name that strange and abhorr’d thing, <i>Love</i>, to +her; the Relations with whom she went abroad every day, were fein to +force her out, and when she went, ’twas the motive of Civility, and not +Satisfaction, that made her go; whatever she saw, she beheld with no +admiration, and nothing created wonder in her, tho’ never so strange and +Novel. She survey’d all things with an indifference, that tho’ it was +not sullen, was far from Transport, so that her evenness of Mind was +infinitely admir’d and prais’d. And now it was, that, young as she was, +her Conduct and Discretion appear’d equal to her Wit and Beauty, and she +encreas’d daily in Reputation, insomuch, that the Parents of abundance +of young Noble Men, made it their business to endeavour to marry their +Sons to so admirable and noble a Maid, and one, whose Virtues were the +Discourse of all the World; the <i>Father</i>, the Lady <i>Abbess</i>, +and those who had her abroad, were solicited to make an Alliance; for +the Father, he would give no answer, but left it to the discretion of +<i>Isabella</i>, who could not be persuaded to hear any thing of that +nature; so that for a long time she refus’d her company to all those, +who propos’d any thing of Marriage to her; she said, she had seen +nothing in the World that was worth her Care, or the venturing the +losing of +<span class = "pagenum">270</span> +Heaven for, and therefore was resolv’d to dedicate her self to that; +that the more she saw of the World, the worse she lik’d it, and pity’d +the Wretches that were condemn’d to it; that she had consider’d it, and +found no one Inclination that forbad her immediate Entrance into a +Religious Life; to which, her Father, after using all the Arguments he +could, to make her take good heed of what she went about, to consider it +well; and had urg’d all the Inconveniencies of Severe Life, Watchings, +Midnight Risings in all Weathers and Seasons to Prayers, hard Lodging, +course Diet, and homely Habit, with a thousand other things of Labour +and Work us’d among the <i>Nuns</i>; and finding her still resolv’d and +inflexible to all contrary persuasions, he consented, kiss’d her, and +told her, She had argu’d according to the wish of his Soul, and that he +never believ’d himself truly happy, till this moment that he was +assur’d, she would become a Religious.</p> + +<p>This News, to the Heart-breaking of a thousand Lovers, was spread all +over the Town, and there was nothing but Songs of Complaint, and of her +retiring, after she had shewn her self to the World, and vanquish’d so +many Hearts; all Wits were at work on this Cruel Subject, and one begat +another, as is usual in such Affairs. Amongst the number of these +Lovers, there was a young Gentleman, Nobly born, his name was +<i>Villenoys</i>, who was admirably made, and very handsom, had +travell’d and accomplish’d himself, as much as was possible for one so +young to do; he was about Eighteen, and was going to the Siege of +<i>Candia</i>, in a very good Equipage, but, overtaken by his Fate, +surpris’d in his way to Glory, he stopt at <i>Ipers</i>, so fell most +passionately in love with this Maid of Immortal Fame; but being defeated +in his hopes by this News, was the Man that made the softest Complaints +to this fair Beauty, and whose violence of Passion oppress’d him to that +degree, that he was the only Lover, who durst himself tell her, he was +in love with her; he writ Billets so soft +<span class = "pagenum">271</span> +and tender, that she had, of all her Lovers, most compassion for +<i>Villenoys</i>, and dain’d several times, in pity of him, to send him +answers to his Letters, but they were such, as absolutely forbad him to +love her; such as incited him to follow Glory, the Mistress that could +noblest reward him; and that, for her part, her Prayers should always +be, that he might be victorious, and the Darling of that Fortune he was +going to court; and that she, for her part, had fix’d her Mind on +Heaven, and no Earthly Thought should bring it down; but she should ever +retain for him all Sisterly Respect, and begg’d, in her Solitudes, to +hear, whether her Prayers had prov’d effectual or not, and if Fortune +were so kind to him, as she should perpetually wish.</p> + +<p>When <i>Villenoys</i> found she was resolv’d, he design’d to persue +his Journy, but could not leave the Town, till he had seen the fatal +Ceremony of <i>Isabella’s</i> being made a <i>Nun</i>, which was every +day expected; and while he stay’d, he could not forbear writing daily to +her, but receiv’d no more Answers from her, she already accusing her +self of having done too much, for a Maid in her Circumstances; but she +confess’d, of all she had seen, she lik’d <i>Villenoys</i> the best; and +if she ever could have lov’d, she believ’d it would have been +<i>Villenoys</i>, for he had all the good Qualities, and grace, that +could render him agreeable to the Fair; besides, that he was only Son to +a very rich and noble Parent, and one that might very well presume to +lay claim to a Maid of <i>Isabella’s</i> Beauty and Fortune.</p> + +<p>As the time approach’d, when he must eternally lose all hope, by +<i>Isabella’s</i> taking Orders, he found himself less able to bear the +Efforts of that Despair it possess’d him with, he languished with the +thought, so that it was visible to all his Friends, the decays it +wrought on his Beauty and Gaiety: So that he fell at last into a Feaver; +and ’twas the whole Discourse of the Town, That <i>Villenoys</i> was +dying for the Fair <i>Isabella</i>; his Relations, being all of Quality, +were extreamly afflicted at his Misfortune, and joyn’d their +<span class = "pagenum">272</span> +Interests yet, to dissuade this fair young Victoress from an act so +cruel, as to inclose herself in a <i>Nunnery</i>, while the finest of +all the youths of Quality was dying for her, and ask’d her, If it would +not be more acceptable to Heaven to save a Life, and perhaps a Soul, +than to go and expose her own to a thousand Tortures? They assur’d her, +<i>Villenoys</i> was dying, and dying Adoring her; that nothing could +save his Life, but her kind Eyes turn’d upon the fainting Lover; +a Lover, that could breath nothing, but her Name in Sighs; and find +satisfaction in nothing, but weeping and crying out, ‘I dye for +Isabella!’ This Discourse fetch’d abundance of Tears from the fair Eyes +of this tender Maid; but, at the same time, she besought them to +believe, these Tears ought not to give them hope, she should ever yield +to save his Life, by quitting her Resolution, of becoming a <i>Nun</i>; +but, on the contrary, they were Tears, that only bewail’d her own +Misfortune, in having been the occasion of the death of any Man, +especially, a Man, who had so many Excellencies, as might have +render’d him entirely Happy and Glorious for a long race of Years, had +it not been his ill fortune to have seen her unlucky Face. She believ’d, +it was for her Sins of Curiosity, and going beyond the Walls of the +Monastery, to wander after the Vanities of the foolish World, that had +occasion’d this Misfortune to the young Count of <i>Villenoys</i>, and +she would put a severe Penance on her Body, for the Mischiefs her Eyes +had done him; she fears she might, by something in her looks, have +intic’d his Heart, for she own’d she saw him, with wonder at his Beauty, +and much more she admir’d him, when she found the Beauties of his Mind; +she confess’d, she had given him hope, by answering his Letters; and +that when she found her Heart grow a little more than usually tender, +when she thought on him, she believ’d it a Crime, that ought to be +check’d by a Virtue, such as she pretended to profess, and hop’d she +should ever carry to her Grave; and she desired his Relations to implore +<span class = "pagenum">273</span> +him, in her Name, to rest contented, in knowing he was the first, and +should be the last, that should ever make an impression on her Heart; +that what she had conceiv’d there, for him, should remain with her to +her dying day, and that she besought him to live, that she might see, he +both deserv’d this Esteem she had for him, and to repay it her, +otherwise he would dye in her debt, and make her Life ever after +reposeless.</p> + +<p>This being all they could get from her, they return’d with Looks that +told their Message; however, they render’d those soft things +<i>Isabella</i> had said, in so moving a manner, as fail’d not to +please, and while he remain’d in this condition, the Ceremonies were +compleated, of making <i>Isabella</i> a <i>Nun</i>; which was a Secret +to none but <i>Villenoys</i>, and from him it was carefully conceal’d, +so that in a little time he recover’d his lost health, at least, so +well, as to support the fatal News, and upon the first hearing it, he +made ready his Equipage, and departed immediately for <i>Candia</i>; +where he behav’d himself very gallantly, under the Command of the Duke +De <i>Beaufort</i>, and, with him, return’d to <i>France</i>, after the +loss of that noble City to the <i>Turks</i>.</p> + +<p>In all the time of his absence, that he might the sooner establish +his Repose, he forbore sending to the fair Cruel <i>Nun</i>, and she +heard no more of <i>Villenoys</i> in above two years; so that giving her +self wholly up to Devotion, there was never seen any one, who led so +Austere and Pious a Life, as this young <i>Votress</i>; she was a Saint +in the Chapel, and an Angel at the <i>Grate</i>: She there laid by all +her severe Looks, and mortify’d Discourse, and being at perfect peace +and tranquility within, she was outwardly all gay, sprightly, and +entertaining, being satisfy’d, no Sights, no Freedoms, could give any +temptations to worldly desires; she gave a loose to all that was modest, +and that Virtue and Honour would permit, and was the most charming +Conversation that ever was admir’d; and the whole World +<span class = "pagenum">274</span> +that pass’d through <i>Iper</i>; of Strangers, came directed and +recommended to the lovely <i>Isabella</i>; I mean, those of Quality: But +however Diverting she was at the <i>Grate</i>, she was most exemplary +Devout in the Cloister, doing more Penance, and imposing a more rigid +Severity and Task on her self, than was requir’d, giving such rare +Examples to all the <i>Nuns</i> that were less Devout, that her Life was +a Proverb, and a President, and when they would express a very Holy +Woman indeed, they would say, ‘She was a very <i>ISABELLA</i>.’</p> + +<p>There was in this <i>Nunnery</i>, a young <i>Nun</i>, call’d, Sister +<i>Katteriena</i>, Daughter to the Grave <i>Vanhenault</i>, that is to +say, an Earl, who liv’d about six Miles from the Town, in a noble +<i>Villa</i>; this Sister <i>Katteriena</i> was not only a very +beautiful Maid, but very witty, and had all the good qualities to make +her be belov’d, and had most wonderfully gain’d upon the Heart of the +fair <i>Isabella</i>, she was her Chamber-Fellow and Companion in all +her Devotions and Diversions, so that where one was, there was the +other, and they never went but together to the <i>Grate</i>, to the +Garden, or to any place, whither their <i>Affairs</i> call’d either. +This young <i>Katteriena</i> had a Brother, who lov’d her intirely, and +came every day to see her, he was about twenty Years of Age, rather tall +than middle Statur’d, his Hair and Eyes brown, but his Face exceeding +beautiful, adorn’d with a thousand Graces, and the most nobly and +exactly made, that ’twas possible for Nature to form; to the Fineness +and Charms of his Person, he had an Air in his Meen and Dressing, so +very agreeable, besides rich, that ’twas impossible to look on him, +without wishing him happy, because he did so absolutely merit being so. +His Wit and his Manner was so perfectly Obliging, a Goodness and +Generosity so Sincere and Gallant, that it would even have aton’d for +Ugliness. As he was eldest Son to so great a Father, he was kept at +home, while the rest of his Brothers were employ’d in Wars abroad; this +made +<span class = "pagenum">275</span> +him of a melancholy Temper, and fit for soft Impressions; he was very +Bookish, and had the best Tutors that could be got, for Learning and +Languages, and all that could compleat a Man; but was unus’d to Action, +and of a temper Lazy, and given to Repose, so that his Father could +hardly ever get him to use any Exercise, or so much as ride abroad, +which he would call, Losing Time from his Studies: He car’d not for the +Conversation of Men, because he lov’d not Debauch, as they usually did; +so that for Exercise, more than any Design, he came on Horseback every +day to <i>Iper</i> to the <i>Monastery</i>, and would sit at the +<i>Grate</i>, entertaining his Sister the most part of the Afternoon, +and, in the Evening, retire; he had often seen and convers’d with the +lovely <i>Isabella</i>, and found from the first sight of her, he had +more Esteem for her, than any other of her Sex: But as Love very rarely +takes Birth without Hope; so he never believ’d that the Pleasure he took +in beholding her, and in discoursing with her, was Love, because he +regarded her, as a Thing consecrate to Heaven, and never so much as +thought to wish, she were a Mortal fit for his Addresses; yet he found +himself more and more fill’d with Reflections on her which was not usual +with him; he found she grew upon his Memory, and oftner came there, than +he us’d to do, that he lov’d his Studies less, and going to <i>Iper</i> +more; and, that every time he went, he found a new Joy at his Heart that +pleas’d him; he found, he could not get himself from the <i>Grate</i>, +without Pain; nor part from the sight of that all-charming Object, +without Sighs; and if, while he was there, any persons came to visit +her, whose Quality she could not refuse the honour of her sight to, he +would blush, and pant with uneasiness, especially, if they were handsom, +and fit to make Impressions: And he would check this Uneasiness in +himself, and ask his Heart, what it meant, by rising and beating in +those Moments, and strive to assume an Indifferency in vain, and depart +dissatisfy’d, and out of humour.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">276</span> +<p>On the other side, <i>Isabella</i> was not so Gay as she us’d to be, +but, on the sudden, retir’d her self more from the <i>Grate</i> than she +us’d to do, refus’d to receive Visits every day, and her Complexion grew +a little pale and languid; she was observ’d not to sleep, or eat, as she +us’d to do, nor exercise in those little Plays they made, and diverted +themselves with, now and then; she was heard to sigh often, and it +became the Discourse of the whole House, that she was much alter’d: The +Lady <i>Abbess</i>, who lov’d her with a most tender Passion, was +infinitely concern’d at this Change, and endeavour’d to find out the +Cause, and ’twas generally believ’d, she was too Devout, for now she +redoubled her Austerity; and in cold Winter Nights, of Frost and Snow, +would be up at all Hours, and lying upon the cold Stones, before the +Altar, prostrate at Prayers: So that she receiv’d Orders from the Lady +<i>Abbess</i>, not to harass her self so very much, but to have a care +of her Health, as well as her Soul; but she regarded not these +Admonitions, tho’ even persuaded daily by her <i>Katteriena</i>, whom +she lov’d every day more and more.</p> + +<p>But, one Night, when they were retir’d to their Chamber, amongst a +thousand things that they spoke of, to pass away a tedious Evening, they +talk’d of Pictures and Likenesses, and <i>Katteriena</i> told +<i>Isabella</i>, that before she was a <i>Nun</i>, in her more happy +days, she was so like her Brother <i>Bernardo Henault</i>, (who was the +same that visited them every day) that she would, in Men’s Clothes, +undertake, she should not have known one from t’other, and fetching out +his <i>Picture</i>, she had in a Dressing-Box, she threw it to +<i>Isabella</i>, who, at the first sight of it, turns as pale as Ashes, +and, being ready to swound, she bid her take it away, and could not, for +her Soul, hide the sudden surprise the <i>Picture</i> brought: +<i>Katteriena</i> had too much Wit, not to make a just Interpretation of +this Change, and (as a Woman) was naturally curious to pry farther, +<span class = "pagenum">277</span> +tho’ Discretion should have made her been silent, for Talking, in such +cases, does but make the Wound rage the more; ‘Why, my dear Sister, +(said <i>Katteriena</i>) is the likeness of my Brother so offensive to +you?’ <i>Isabella</i> found by this, she had discover’d too much, and +that Thought put her by all power of excusing it; she was confounded +with Shame, and the more she strove to hide it, the more it disorder’d +her; so that she (blushing extremely) hung down her Head, sigh’d, and +confess’d all by her Looks. At last, after a considering Pause, she +cry’d, ‘My dearest Sister, I do confess, I was surpriz’d at +the sight of Monsieur <i>Henault</i>, and much more than ever you have +observ’d me to be at the sight of his Person, because there is scarce a +day wherein I do not see that, and know beforehand I shall see him; +I am prepar’d for the Encounter, and have lessen’d my Concern, or +rather Confusion, by that time I come to the <i>Grate</i>, so much +Mistress I am of my Passions, when they give me warning of their +approach, and sure I can withstand the greatest assaults of Fate, if I +can but foresee it; but if it surprize me, I find I am as feeble a +Woman, as the most unresolv’d; you did not tell me, you had this +Picture, nor say, you would shew me such a Picture; but when I least +expect to see that Face, you shew it me, even in my Chamber.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah, my dear Sister! (reply’d <i>Katteriena</i>) I believe, that +Paleness, and those Blushes, proceed from some other cause, than the +Nicety of seeing the Picture of a Man in your Chamber’:</p> + +<p>‘You have too much Wit, (reply’d <i>Isabella</i>) to be impos’d on by +such an Excuse, if I were so silly to make it; but oh! my dear Sister! +it was in my Thoughts to deceive you; could I have concealed my Pain and +Sufferings, you should never have known them; but since I find it +impossible, and that I am too sincere to make use of Fraud in any thing, +’tis fit I tell you, from +<span class = "pagenum">278</span> +what cause my change of Colour proceeds, and to own to you, I fear, +’tis Love, if ever therefore, oh gentle pitying Maid! thou wert a Lover? +If ever thy tender Heart were touch’d with that Passion? Inform me, oh! +inform me, of the nature of that cruel Disease, and how thou found’st a +Cure?’</p> + +<p>While she was speaking these words, she threw her Arms about the Neck +of the fair <i>Katteriena</i>, and bath’d her Bosom (where she hid her +Face) with a shower of Tears; <i>Katteriena</i>, embracing her with all +the fondness of a dear Lover, told her, with a Sigh, that she could deny +her nothing, and therefore confess’d to her, she had been a Lover, and +that was the occasion of her being made a <i>Nun</i>, her Father finding +out the Intrigue, which fatally happened to be with his own Page, +a Youth of extraordinary Beauty. ‘I was but Young, (said she) +about Thirteen, and knew not what to call the new-known Pleasure that I +felt; when e’re I look’d upon the young <i>Arnaldo</i>, my Heart would +heave, when e’re he came in view, and my disorder’d Breath came doubly +from my Bosom; a Shivering seiz’d me, and my Face grew wan; my +Thought was at a stand, and Sense it self, for that short moment, lost +its Faculties; But when he touch’d me, oh! no hunted Deer, tir’d with +his flight, and just secur’d in Shades, pants with a nimbler motion than +my Heart; at first, I thought the Youth had had some Magick Art, to +make one faint and tremble at his touches; but he himself, when I +accus’d his Cruelty, told me, he had no Art, but awful Passion, and +vow’d that when I touch’d him, he was so; so trembling, so surprized, so +charm’d, so pleas’d. When he was present, nothing could displease me, +but when he parted from me; then ’twas rather a soft silent Grief, that +eas’d itself by sighing, and by hoping, that some kind moment would +restore my joy. When he was absent, nothing could divert me, howe’re I +strove, howe’re I toyl’d for Mirth; no Smile, no Joy, dwelt in my Heart +<span class = "pagenum">279</span> +or Eyes; I could not feign, so very well I lov’d, impatient in his +absence, I would count the tedious parting Hours, and pass them off +like useless Visitants, whom we wish were gon; these are the Hours, +where Life no business has, at least, a Lover’s Life. But, oh! what +Minutes seem’d the happy Hours, when on his Eyes I gaz’d, and he on +mine, and half our Conversation lost in Sighs, Sighs, the soft moving +Language of a Lover!’</p> + +<p>‘No more, no more, (reply’d <i>Isabella</i>, throwing her Arms again +about the Neck of the transported <i>Katteriena</i>) thou blow’st my +Flame by thy soft Words, and mak’st me know my Weakness, and my Shame: +I love! I love! and feel those differing Passions!’—Then +pausing a moment, she proceeded,—‘Yet so didst thou, but hast +surmounted it. Now thou hast found the Nature of my Pain, oh! tell me +thy saving Remedy?’ ‘Alas! (reply’d <i>Katteriena</i>) tho’ there’s but +one Disease, there’s many Remedies: They say, possession’s one, but that +to me seems a Riddle; Absence, they say, another, and that was mine; for +<i>Arnaldo</i> having by chance lost one of my Billets, discover’d the +Amour, and was sent to travel, and my self forc’d into this Monastery, +where at last, Time convinc’d me, I had lov’d below my Quality, and +that sham’d me into Holy Orders.’ ‘And is it a Disease, (reply’d +<i>Isabella</i>) that People often recover?’ ‘Most frequently, (said +<i>Katteriena</i>) and yet some dye of the Disease, but very rarely.’ +‘Nay then, (said <i>Isabella</i>) I fear, you will find me one of these +Martyrs; for I have already oppos’d it with the most severe Devotion in +the World: But all my Prayers are vain, your lovely Brother persues me +into the greatest Solitude; he meets me at my very Midnight Devotions, +and interrupts my Prayers; he gives me a thousand Thoughts, that ought +not to enter into a Soul dedicated to Heaven; he ruins all the Glory I +have achiev’d, even above my Sex, for Piety of Life, and the Observation +of all Virtues. +<span class = "pagenum">280</span> +Oh <i>Katteriena</i>! he has a Power in his Eyes, that transcends all +the World besides: And, to shew the weakness of Human Nature, and how +vain all our Boastings are, he has done that in one fatal Hour, that the +persuasions of all my Relations and Friends, Glory, Honour, Pleasure, +and all that can tempt, could not perform in Years; I resisted all +but <i>Henault’s</i> Eyes, and they were Ordain’d to make me truly +wretched; But yet with thy Assistance, and a Resolution to see him no +more, and my perpetual Trust in Heaven, I may, perhaps, overcome +this Tyrant of my Soul, who, I thought, had never enter’d into holy +Houses, or mix’d his Devotions and Worship with the true Religion; but, +oh! no Cells, no Cloysters, no Hermitages, are secur’d from his +Efforts.’</p> + +<p>This Discourse she ended with abundance of Tears, and it was +resolv’d, since she was devoted for ever to a Holy Life, That it was +best for her to make it as easy to her as was possible; in order to it, +and the banishing this fond and useless Passion from her Heart, it was +very necessary, she should see <i>Henault</i> no more: At first, +<i>Isabella</i> was afraid, that, in refusing to see him, he might +mistrust her Passion; but <i>Katteriena</i> who was both Pious and +Discreet, and endeavour’d truly to cure her of so violent a Disease, +which must, she knew, either end in her death or destruction, told her, +She would take care of that matter, that it should not blemish her +Honour; and so leaving her a while, after they had resolved on this, she +left her in a thousand Confusions, she was now another Woman than what +she had hitherto been; she was quite alter’d in every Sentiment, thought +and Notion; she now repented, she had promis’d not to see +<i>Henault</i>; she trembled and even fainted, for fear she should see +him no more; she was not able to bear that thought, it made her rage +within, like one possest, and all her Virtue could not calm her; yet +since her word was past, and, as she was, she could not, without great +Scandal, break it in that point, she +<span class = "pagenum">281</span> +resolv’d to dye a thousand Deaths, rather than not perform her Promise +made to <i>Katteriena</i>; but ’tis not to be express’d what she +endur’d; what Fits, Pains, and Convulsions, she sustain’d; and how much +ado she had to dissemble to Dame <i>Katteriena</i>, who soon return’d to +the afflicted Maid; the next day, about the time that <i>Henault</i> was +to come, as he usually did, about two or three a Clock after Noon, ’tis +impossible to express the uneasiness of <i>Isabella</i>; she ask’d, +a thousand times, ‘What, is not your Brother come?’ When Dame +<i>Katteriena</i> would reply, ‘Why do you ask?’ She would say, ‘Because +I would be sure not to see him’: ‘You need not fear, Madam, (reply’d +<i>Katteriena</i>) for you shall keep your Chamber.’ She need not have +urg’d that, for <i>Isabella</i> was very ill without knowing it, and in +a Feaver.</p> + +<p>At last, one of the <i>Nuns</i> came up, and told Dame +<i>Katteriena</i>, that her Brother was at the <i>Grate</i>, and she +desired, he should be bid come about to the Private <i>Grate</i> above +stairs, which he did, and she went to him, leaving <i>Isabella</i> even +dead on the Bed, at the very name of <i>Henault</i>: But the more she +conceal’d her Flame, the more violently it rag’d, which she strove in +vain by Prayers, and those Recourses of Solitude to lessen; all this did +but augment the Pain, and was Oyl to the Fire, so that she now could +hope, that nothing but Death would put an end to her Griefs, and her +Infamy. She was eternally thinking on him, how handsome his Face, how +delicate every Feature, how charming his Air, how graceful his Meen, how +soft and good his Disposition, and how witty and entertaining his +Conversation. She now fancy’d, she was at the <i>Grate</i>, talking to +him as she us’d to be, and blest those happy Hours she past then, and +bewail’d her Misfortune, that she is no more destin’d to be so Happy, +then gives a loose to Grief; Griefs, at which, no Mortals, but +Despairing Lovers, can guess, or how tormenting they are; where the most +easie Moments are, those, wherein one resolves +<span class = "pagenum">282</span> +to kill ones self, and the happiest Thought is Damnation; but from these +Imaginations, she endeavours to fly, all frighted with horror; but, +alas! whither would she fly, but to a Life more full of horror? She +considers well, she cannot bear Despairing Love, and finds it impossible +to cure her Despair; she cannot fly from the Thoughts of the Charming +<i>Henault</i>, and ’tis impossible to quit ’em; and, at this rate, she +found, Life could not long support it self, but would either reduce her +to Madness, and so render her an hated Object of Scorn to the Censuring +World, or force her Hand to commit a Murder upon her self. This she had +found, this she had well consider’d, nor could her fervent and continual +Prayers, her nightly Watchings, her Mortifications on the cold Marble in +long Winter Season, and all her Acts of Devotion abate one spark of this +shameful Feaver of Love, that was destroying her within. When she had +rag’d and struggled with this unruly Passion, ’till she was quite tir’d +and breathless, finding all her force in vain, she fill’d her fancy with +a thousand charming <i>Ideas</i> of the lovely <i>Henault</i>, and, in +that soft fit, had a mind to satisfy her panting Heart, and give it one +Joy more, by beholding the Lord of its Desires, and the Author of its +Pains: Pleas’d, yet trembling, at this Resolve, she rose from the Bed +where she was laid, and softly advanc’d to the Stair-Case, from whence +there open’d that Room where Dame <i>Katteriena</i> was, and where there +was a private <i>Grate</i>, at which, she was entertaining her +<i>Brother</i>; they were earnest in Discourse, and so loud, that +<i>Isabella</i> could easily hear all they said, and the first words +were from <i>Katteriena</i>, who, in a sort of Anger, cry’d, ‘Urge me no +more! My Virtue is too nice, to become an Advocate for a Passion, that +can tend to nothing but your Ruin; for, suppose I should tell the fair +<i>Isabella</i>, you dye for her, what can it avail you? What hope can +any Man have, to move the Heart of a Virgin, so averse to Love? +A Virgin, whose Modesty and Virtue is so +<span class = "pagenum">283</span> +very curious, it would fly the very word, Love, as some monstrous +Witchcraft, or the foulest of Sins, who would loath me for bringing so +lewd a Message, and banish you her Sight, as the Object of her Hate and +Scorn; is it unknown to you, how many of the noblest Youths of +<i>Flanders</i> have address’d themselves to her in vain, when yet she +was in the World? Have you been ignorant, how the young Count de +<i>Villenoys</i> languished, in vain, almost to Death for her? And, that +no Persuasions, no Attractions in him, no wordly Advantages, or all his +Pleadings, who had a Wit and Spirit capable of prevailing on any Heart, +less severe and harsh, than hers? Do you not know, that all was lost on +this insensible fair one, even when she was a proper Object for the +Adoration of the Young and Amorous? And can you hope, now she has so +entirely wedded her future days to Devotion, and given all to Heaven; +nay, lives a Life here more like a Saint, than a Woman; rather an Angel, +than a mortal Creature? Do you imagin, with any Rhetorick you can +deliver, now to turn the Heart, and whole Nature, of this Divine Maid, +to consider your Earthly Passion? No, ’tis fondness, and an injury to +her Virtue, to harbour such a Thought; quit it, quit it, my dear +Brother! before it ruin your Repose.’ ‘Ah, Sister! (replied the dejected +<i>Henault</i>) your Counsel comes too late, and your Reasons are of too +feeble force, to rebate those Arrows, the Charming <i>Isabella’s</i> +Eyes have fix’d in my Heart and Soul; and I am undone, unless she know +my Pain, which I shall dye, before I shall ever dare mention to her; but +you, young Maids, have a thousand Familiarities together, can jest, and +play, and say a thousand things between Railery and Earnest, that may +first hint what you would deliver, and insinuate into each others Hearts +a kind of Curiosity to know more; for naturally, (my dear Sister) +Maids, are curious and vain; and however Divine the Mind of the fair +<i>Isabella</i> may be, it bears the Tincture still of Mortal +Woman.’</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">284</span> +<p>‘Suppose this true, how could this Mortal part about her Advantage +you, (said <i>Katteriena</i>) all that you can expect from this +Discovery, (if she should be content to hear it, and to return you +pity) would be, to make her wretched, like your self? What farther can +you hope?’ ‘Oh! talk not, (replied <i>Henault</i>) of so much Happiness! +I do not expect to be so blest, that she should pity me, or love to +a degree of Inquietude; ’tis sufficient, for the ease of my Heart, that +she know its Pains, and what it suffers for her; that she would give my +Eyes leave to gaze upon her, and my Heart to vent a Sigh now and then; +and, when I dare, to give me leave to speak, and tell her of my Passion; +This, this, is all, my Sister.’ And, at that word, the Tears glided down +his Cheeks, and he declin’d his Eyes, and set a Look so charming, and so +sad, that <i>Isabella</i>, whose Eyes were fix’d upon him, was a +thousand times ready to throw her self into the Room, and to have made a +Confession, how sensible she was of all she had heard and seen: But, +with much ado, she contain’d and satisfy’d her self, with knowing, that +she was ador’d by him whom she ador’d, and, with Prudence that is +natural to her, she withdrew, and waited with patience the event of +their Discourse. She impatiently long’d to know, how <i>Katteriena</i> +would manage this Secret her Brother had given her, and was pleas’d, +that the Friendship and Prudence of that Maid had conceal’d her Passion +from her Brother; and now contented and joyful beyond imagination, to +find her self belov’d, she knew she could dissemble her own Passion and +make him the first Aggressor; the first that lov’d, or at least, that +should seem to do so. This Thought restores her so great a part of her +Peace of Mind, that she resolv’d to see him, and to dissemble with +<i>Katteriena</i> so far, as to make her believe, she had subdu’d that +Passion, she was really asham’d to own; she now, with her Woman’s Skill, +begins to practise an Art she never before understood, and has recourse +to +<span class = "pagenum">285</span> +Cunning, and resolves to seem to reassume her former Repose: But hearing +<i>Katteriena</i> approach, she laid her self again on her Bed, where +she had left her, but compos’d her Face to more chearfulness, and put on +a Resolution that indeed deceiv’d the Sister, who was extreamly pleased, +she said, to see her look so well: When <i>Isabella</i> reply’d, ‘Yes, +I am another Woman now; I hope Heaven has heard, and granted, +my long and humble Supplications, and driven from my Heart this +tormenting God, that has so long disturb’d my purer Thoughts.’ ‘And are +you sure, (said Dame <i>Katteriena</i>) that this wanton Deity is +repell’d by the noble force of your Resolutions? Is he never to return?’ +‘No, (replied <i>Isabella</i>) never to my Heart.’ ‘Yes, (said +<i>Katteriena</i>) if you should see the lovely Murderer of your Repose, +your Wound would bleed anew.’ At this, <i>Isabella</i> smiling with a +little Disdain, reply’d, ‘Because you once to love, and <i>Henault’s</i> +Charms defenceless found me, ah! do you think I have no Fortitude? But +so in Fondness lost, remiss in Virtue, that when I have resolv’d, (and +see it necessary for my after-Quiet) to want the power of keeping that +Resolution? No, scorn me, and despise me then, as lost to all the +Glories of my Sex, and all that Nicety I’ve hitherto preserv’d.’ There +needed no more from a Maid of <i>Isabella’s</i> Integrity and +Reputation, to convince any one of the Sincerity of what she said, +since, in the whole course of her Life, she never could be charg’d with +an Untruth, or an Equivocation; and <i>Katteriena</i> assur’d her, she +believ’d her, and was infinitely glad she had vanquish’d a Passion, that +would have prov’d destructive to her Repose: <i>Isabella</i> reply’d, +She had not altogether vanquish’d her Passion, she did not boast of so +absolute a power over her soft Nature, but had resolv’d things great, +and Time would work the Cure; that she hop’d, <i>Katteriena</i> would +make such Excuses to her Brother, for her not appearing at the +<i>Grate</i> so gay and entertaining as she us’d, and, by a little +absence, she should retrieve the Liberty +<span class = "pagenum">286</span> +she had lost: But she desir’d, such Excuses might be made for her, that +young <i>Henault</i> might not perceive the Reason. At the naming him, +she had much ado not to shew some Concern extraordinary, and +<i>Katteriena</i> assur’d her, She had now a very good Excuse to keep +from the <i>Grate</i>, when he was at it; ‘For, (said she) now you have +resolv’d, I may tell you, he is dying for you, raving in Love, and +has this day made me promise to him, to give you some account of his +Passion, and to make you sensible of his Languishment: I had not +told you this, (reply’d <i>Katteriena</i>) but that I believe you +fortify’d with brave Resolution and Virtue, and that this knowledge will +rather put you more upon your Guard, than you were before.’ While she +spoke, she fixed her Eyes on <i>Isabella</i>, to see what alteration it +would make in her Heart and Looks; but the Master-piece of this young +Maid’s Art was shewn in this minute, for she commanded her self so well, +that her very Looks dissembled and shew’d no concern at a Relation, that +made her Soul dance with Joy; but it was, what she was prepar’d for, or +else I question her Fortitude. But, with a Calmness, which absolutely +subdu’d <i>Katteriena</i>, she reply’d, ‘I am almost glad he has +confess’d a Passion for me, and you shall confess to him, you told me of +it, and that I absent my self from the <i>Grate</i>, on purpose to avoid +the sight of a Man, who durst love me, and confess it; and I assure you, +my dear Sister! (continued she, dissembling) You could not have advanc’d +my Cure by a more effectual way, than telling me of his Presumption.’ At +that word, <i>Katteriena</i> joyfully related to her all that had pass’d +between young <i>Henault</i> and her self, and how he implor’d her Aid +in this Amour; at the end of which Relation, <i>Isabella</i> smil’d, and +carelesly reply’d, ‘I pity him’: And so going to their Devotion, +they had no more Discourse of the Lover.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, young <i>Henault</i> was a little satisfy’d, to +know, his Sister would discover his Passion to the lovely +<span class = "pagenum">287</span> +<i>Isabella</i>; and though he dreaded the return, he was pleas’d that +she should know, she had a Lover that ador’d her, though even without +hope; for though the thought of possessing <i>Isabella</i>, was the most +ravishing that could be; yet he had a dread upon him, when he thought of +it, for he could not hope to accomplish that, without Sacrilege; and he +was a young Man, very Devout, and even bigotted in Religion; and would +often question and debate within himself, that, if it were possible, he +should come to be belov’d by this Fair Creature, and that it were +possible for her, to grant all that Youth in Love could require, whether +he should receive the Blessing offer’d? And though he ador’d the Maid, +whether he should not abhor the <i>Nun</i> in his Embraces? ’Twas an +undetermin’d Thought, that chill’d his Fire as often as it approach’d; +but he had too many that rekindled it again with the greater Flame and +Ardor.</p> + +<p>His impatience to know, what Success <i>Katteriena</i> had, with the +Relation she was to make to <i>Isabella</i> in his behalf, brought him +early to <i>Iper</i> the next day. He came again to the private +<i>Grate</i>, where his Sister receiving him, and finding him, with a +sad and dejected Look, expect what she had to say; she told him, That +Look well became the News she had for him, it being such, as ought to +make him, both Griev’d, and Penitent; for, to obey him, she had so +absolutely displeas’d <i>Isabella</i>, that she was resolv’d never to +believe her her Friend more, ‘Or to see you, (said she) therefore, as +you have made me commit a Crime against my Conscience, against my Order, +against my Friendship, and against my Honour, you ought to do some brave +thing; take some noble Resolution, worthy of your Courage, to redeem +all; for your Repose, I promis’d, I would let Isabella know +you lov’d, and, for the mitigation of my Crime, you ought to let me tell +her, you have surmounted your Passion, as the last Remedy of Life and +Fame.’</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">288</span> +<p>At these her last words, the Tears gush’d from his Eyes, and he was +able only, a good while, to sigh; at last, cry’d, ‘What! see her no +more! see the Charming <i>Isabella</i> no more!’ And then vented the +Grief of his Soul in so passionate a manner, as his Sister had all the +Compassion imaginable for him, but thought it great Sin and Indiscretion +to cherish his Flame: So that, after a while, having heard her Counsel, +he reply’d, ‘And is this all, my Sister, you will do to save a Brother?’ +‘All! (reply’d she) I would not be the occasion of making a +<i>NUN</i> violate her Vow, to save a Brother’s Life, no, nor my own; +assure your self of this, and take it as my last Resolution: Therefore, +if you will be content with the Friendship of this young Lady, and so +behave your self, that we may find no longer the Lover in the Friend, we +shall reassume our former Conversation, and live with you, as we ought; +otherwise, your Presence will continually banish her from the +<i>Grate</i>, and, in time, make both her you love, and your self, +a Town Discourse.’</p> + +<p>Much more to this purpose she said, to dissuade him, and bid him +retire, and keep himself from thence, till he could resolve to visit +them without a Crime; and she protested, if he did not do this, and +master his foolish Passion, she would let her Father understand his +Conduct, who was a Man of temper so very precise, that should he +believe, his Son should have a thought of Love to a Virgin vow’d to +Heaven, he would abandon him to Shame, and eternal Poverty, by +disinheriting him of all he could: Therefore, she said, he ought to lay +all this to his Heart, and weigh it with his unheedy Passion. While the +Sister talk’d thus wisely, <i>Henault</i> was not without his Thoughts, +but consider’d as she spoke, but did not consider in the right place; he +was not considering, how to please a Father, and save an Estate, but how +to manage the matter so, to establish himself, as he was before with +<i>Isabella</i>; for he imagin’d, since already she knew his Passion, +and +<span class = "pagenum">289</span> +that if after that she would be prevail’d with to see him, he might, +some lucky Minute or other, have the pleasure of speaking for himself, +at least, he should again see and talk to her, which was a joyful +Thought in the midst of so many dreadful ones: And, as if he had known +what pass’d in <i>Isabella’s</i> Heart, he, by a strange sympathy, took +the same measures to deceive <i>Katteriena</i>, a well-meaning +young Lady, and easily impos’d on from her own Innocence, he resolv’d to +dissemble Patience, since he must have that Virtue, and own’d, his +Sister’s Reasons were just, and ought to be persu’d; that she had argu’d +him into half his Peace, and that he would endeavour to recover the +rest; that Youth ought to be pardon’d a thousand Failings, and Years +would reduce him to a condition of laughing at his Follies of Youth, but +that grave Direction was not yet arriv’d: And so desiring, she would +pray for his Conversion, and that she would recommend him to the +Devotions of the Fair <i>Isabella</i>, he took his leave, and came no +more to the <i>Nunnery</i> in ten Days; in all which time, none but +Impatient Lovers can guess, what Pain and Languishments <i>Isabella</i> +suffer’d, not knowing the Cause of his Absence, nor daring to enquire; +but she bore it out so admirably, that Dame <i>Katteriena</i> never so +much as suspected she had any Thoughts of that nature that perplex’d +her, and now believ’d indeed she had conquer’d all her Uneasiness: And +one day, when <i>Isabella</i> and she were alone together, she ask’d +that fair Dissembler, if she did not admire at the Conduct and +Resolution of her Brother? ‘Why!’ (reply’d <i>Isabella</i> +unconcernedly, while her Heart was fainting within, for fear of ill +News:) With that, <i>Katteriena</i> told her the last Discourse she had +with her Brother, and how at last she had persuaded him (for her sake) +to quit his Passion; and that he had promis’d, he would endeavour to +surmount it; and that, that was the reason he was absent now, and they +were to see him no more, till he had made a Conquest over himself. You +may assure your +<span class = "pagenum">290</span> +self, this News was not so welcom to <i>Isabella</i>, as +<i>Katteriena</i> imagin’d; yet still she dissembled, with a force, +beyond what the most cunning Practitioner could have shewn, and carry’d +her self before People, as if no Pressures had lain upon her Heart; but +when alone retir’d, in order to her Devotion, she would vent her Griefs +in the most deplorable manner, that a distress’d distracted Maid could +do, and which, in spite of all her severe Penances, she found no +abatement of.</p> + +<p>At last <i>Henault</i> came again to the <i>Monastery</i>, and, with +a Look as gay as he could possibly assume, he saw his Sister, and told +her, He had gain’d an absolute Victory over his Heart; and desir’d, he +might see <i>Isabella</i>, only to convince, both her, and +<i>Katteriena</i>, that he was no longer a Lover of that fair Creature, +that had so lately charm’d him; that he had set Five thousand Pounds a +Year, against a fruitless Passion, and found the solid Gold much the +heavier in the Scale: And he smil’d, and talk’d the whole Day of +indifferent things, with his Sister, and ask’d no more for +<i>Isabella</i>; nor did <i>Isabella</i> look, or ask, after him, but in +her Heart. Two Months pass’d in this Indifference, till it was taken +notice of, that Sister <i>Isabella</i> came not to the <i>Grate</i>, +when <i>Henault</i> was there, as she us’d to do; this being spoken to +Dame <i>Katteriena</i>, she told it to <i>Isabella</i>, and said, ‘The +<i>NUNS</i> would believe, there was some Cause for her Absence, if she +did not appear again’: That if she could trust her Heart, she was sure +she could trust her Brother, for he thought no more of her, she was +confident; this, in lieu of pleasing, was a Dagger to the Heart of +<i>Isabella</i>, who thought it time to retrieve the flying Lover, and +therefore told <i>Katteriena</i>, She would the next Day entertain at +the Low <i>Grate</i>, as she was wont to do, and accordingly, as soon as +any People of Quality came, she appear’d there, where she had not been +two Minutes, but she saw the lovely <i>Henault</i>, and it was well for +both, that People were in the Room, they had else both sufficiently +discover’d their +<span class = "pagenum">291</span> +Inclinations, or rather their not to be conceal’d Passions; after the +General Conversation was over, by the going away of the Gentlemen that +were at the <i>Grate</i>, <i>Katteriena</i> being employ’d elsewhere, +<i>Isabella</i> was at last left alone with <i>Henault</i>; but who can +guess the Confusion of these two Lovers, who wish’d, yet fear’d, to know +each others Thoughts? She trembling with a dismal Apprehension, that he +lov’d no more; and he almost dying with fear, she should Reproach or +Upbraid him with his Presumption; so that both being possess’d with +equal Sentiments of Love, Fear, and Shame, they both stood fix’d with +dejected Looks and Hearts, that heav’d with stifled Sighs. At last, +<i>Isabella</i>, the softer and tender-hearted of the two, tho’ not the +most a Lover perhaps, not being able to contain her Love any longer +within the bounds of Dissimulation or Discretion, being by Nature +innocent, burst out into Tears, and all fainting with pressing Thoughts +within, she fell languishly into a Chair that stood there, while the +distracted <i>Henault</i>, who could not come to her Assistance, and +finding Marks of Love, rather than Anger or Disdain, in that Confusion +of <i>Isabella’s</i>, throwing himself on his Knees at the <i>Grate</i>, +implor’d her to behold him, to hear him, and to pardon him, who dy’d +every moment for her, and who ador’d her with a violent Ardor; but yet, +with such an one, as should (tho’ he perish’d with it) be +conformable to her Commands; and as he spoke, the Tears stream’d down +his dying Eyes, that beheld her with all the tender Regard that ever +Lover was capable of; she recover’d a little, and turn’d her too +beautiful Face to him, and pierc’d him with a Look, that darted a +thousand Joys and Flames into his Heart, with Eyes, that told him her +Heart was burning and dying for him; for which Assurances, he made Ten +thousand Asseverations of his never-dying Passion, and expressing as +many Raptures and Excesses of Joy, to find her Eyes and Looks confess, +he was not odious to her, and that the knowledge he was her Lover, did +not make her hate him: +<span class = "pagenum">292</span> +In fine, he spoke so many things all soft and moving, and so well +convinc’d her of his Passion, that she at last was compell’d by a mighty +force, absolutely irresistible, to speak.</p> + +<p>‘Sir, (said she) perhaps you will wonder, where I, a Maid, brought up +in the simplicity of Virtue, should learn the Confidence, not only to +hear of Love from you, but to confess I am sensible of the most violent +of its Pain my self; and I wonder, and am amazed at my own Daring, that +I should have the Courage, rather to speak, than dye, and bury it in +silence; but such is my Fate. Hurried by an unknown Force, which I have +endeavoured always, in vain, to resist, I am compell’d to tell you, +I love you, and have done so from the first moment I saw you; and +you are the only Man born to give me Life or Death, to make me Happy or +Blest; perhaps, had I not been confin’d, and, as it were, utterly forbid +by my Vow, as well as my Modesty, to tell you this, I should not +have been so miserable to have fallen thus low, as to have confess’d my +Shame; but our Opportunities of Speaking are so few, and Letters so +impossible to be sent without discovery, that perhaps this is the only +time I shall ever have to speak with you alone.’ And, at that word the +Tears flow’d abundantly from her Eyes, and gave <i>Henault</i> leave to +speak. ‘Ah Madam! (said he) do not, as soon as you have rais’d me +to the greatest Happiness in the World, throw me with one word beneath +your Scorn, much easier ’tis to dye, and know I am lov’d, than never, +never, hope to hear that blessed sound again from that beautiful Mouth: +Ah, Madam! rather let me make use of this one opportunity our happy Luck +has given us, and contrive how we may for ever see, and speak, to each +other; let us assure one another, there are a thousand ways to escape a +place so rigid, as denies us that Happiness; and denies the fairest Maid +in the World, the privilege of her Creation, and the end to which she +was form’d so Angelical.’ And seeing <i>Isabella</i> was going to speak, +lest she should say something, that might +<span class = "pagenum">293</span> +dissuade from an Attempt so dangerous and wicked, he persu’d to tell +her, it might be indeed the last moment Heaven would give ’em, and +besought her to answer him what he implor’d, whether she would fly with +him from the <i>Monastery</i>? At this Word, she grew pale, and started, +as at some dreadful Sound, and cry’d, ‘Hah! what is’t you say? Is it +possible, you should propose a thing so wicked? And can it enter into +your Imagination, because I have so far forget my Virtue, and my Vow, to +become a Lover, I should therefore fall to so wretched a degree of +Infamy and Reprobation? No, name it to me no more, if you would see me; +and if it be as you say, a Pleasure to be belov’d by me; for I will +sooner dye, than yield to what . . . Alas! I but too well +approve!’ These last words, she spoke with a fainting Tone, and the +Tears fell anew from her fair soft Eyes. ‘If it be so,’ said he, (with a +Voice so languishing, it could scarce be heard) ‘If it be so, and that +you are resolv’d to try, if my Love be eternal without Hope, without +expectation of any other Joy, than seeing and adoring you through the +<i>Grate</i>; I am, and must, and will be contented, and you shall see, +I can prefer the Sighing to these cold Irons, that separate us, +before all the Possessions of the rest of the World; that I chuse rather +to lead my Life here, at this cruel Distance from you, for ever, than +before the Embrace of all the Fair; and you shall see, how pleas’d I +will be, to languish here; but as you see me decay, (for surely so I +shall) do not triumph o’re my languid Looks, and laugh at my Pale and +meager Face; but, Pitying, say, How easily I might have preserv’d that +Face, those Eyes, and all that Youth and Vigour, now no more, from this +total Ruine I now behold it in, and love your Slave that dyes, and will +be daily and visibly dying, as long as my Eyes can gaze on that fair +Object, and my Soul be fed and kept alive with her Charming Wit and +Conversation; if Love can live on such Airy Food, (tho’ rich in it self, +yet unfit, alone, to sustain Life) it shall +<span class = "pagenum">294</span> +be for ever dedicated to the lovely <i>ISABELLA</i>: But, oh! that time +cannot be long! Fate will not lend her Slave many days, who loves too +violently, to be satisfy’d to enjoy the fair Object of his Desires, no +otherwise than at a <i>Grate</i>.’</p> + +<p>He ceas’d speaking, for Sighs and Tears stopt his Voice, and he +begg’d the liberty to sit down; and his Looks being quite alter’d, +<i>ISABELLA</i> found her self touch’d to the very Soul, with a concern +the most tender, that ever yielding Maid was oppress’d with: She had no +power to suffer him to Languish, while she by one soft word could +restore him, and being about to say a thousand things that would have +been agreeable to him, she saw herself approach’d by some of the +<i>Nuns</i>, and only had time to say, ‘If you love me, live and hope.’ +The rest of the <i>Nuns</i> began to ask <i>Henault</i> of News, for he +always brought them all that was Novel in the Town, and they were glad +still of his Visits, above all other, for they heard, how all Amours and +Intrigues pass’d in the World, by this young Cavalier. These last words +of <i>Isabella’s</i> were a Cordial to his Soul, and he, from that, and +to conceal the present Affair, endeavour’d to assume all the Gaity he +could, and told ’em all he could either remember, or invent, to please +’em, tho’ he wish’d them a great way off at that time.</p> + +<p>Thus they pass’d the day, till it was a decent hour for him to quit +the <i>Grate</i>, and for them to draw the Curtain; all that Night did +<i>Isabella</i> dedicate to Love, she went to Bed, with a Resolution, to +think over all she had to do, and to consider, how she should manage +this great Affair of her Life: I have already said, she had try’d +all that was possible in Human Strength to perform, in the design of +quitting a Passion so injurious to her Honour and Virtue, and found no +means possible to accomplish it: She had try’d Fasting long, Praying +fervently, rigid Penances and Pains, severe Disciplines, all the +Mortification, almost to the destruction of Life it self, to conquer the +unruly Flame; but still it burnt and rag’d but the more; so, at +<span class = "pagenum">295</span> +last, she was forc’d to permit that to conquer her, she could not +conquer, and submitted to her Fate, as a thing destin’d her by Heaven it +self; and after all this opposition, she fancy’d it was resisting even +Divine Providence, to struggle any longer with her Heart; and this being +her real Belief, she the more patiently gave way to all the Thoughts +that pleas’d her.</p> + +<p>As soon as she was laid, without discoursing (as she us’d to do) to +<i>Katteriena</i>, after they were in Bed, she pretended to be sleepy, +and turning from her, setled her self to profound Thinking, and was +resolv’d to conclude the Matter, between her Heart, and her Vow of +Devotion, that Night, and she, having no more to determine, might end +the Affair accordingly, the first opportunity she should have to speak +to <i>Henault</i>, which was, to fly, and marry him; or, to remain for +ever fix’d to her Vow of Chastity. This was the Debate; she brings +Reason on both sides: Against the first, she sets the Shame of a +Violated Vow, and considers, where she shall shew her Face after such an +Action; to the Vow, she argues, that she was born in Sin, and could not +live without it; that she was Human, and no Angel, and that, possibly, +that Sin might be as soon forgiven, as another; that since all her +devout Endeavours could not defend her from the Cause, Heaven ought to +execute the Effect; that as to shewing her Face, so she saw that of +<i>Henault</i> always turned (Charming as it was) towards her with love; +what had she to do with the World, or car’d to behold any other?</p> + +<p>Some times, she thought, it would be more Brave and Pious to dye, +than to break her Vow; but she soon answer’d that, as false Arguing, for +Self-Murder was the worst of Sins, and in the Deadly Number. She could, +after such an Action, live to repent, and, of two Evils, she ought to +chuse the least; she dreads to think, since she had so great a +Reputation for Virtue and Piety, both in the <i>Monastery</i>, and in +the World, what they both would +<span class = "pagenum">296</span> +say, when she should commit an Action so contrary to both these, she +posest; but, after a whole Night’s Debate, Love was strongest, and +gain’d the Victory. She never went about to think, how she should +escape, because she knew it would be easy, the keeping of the Key of the +<i>Monastery</i>, [was] often intrusted in her keeping, and was, by +turns, in the hands of many more, whose Virtue and Discretion was +Infallible, and out of Doubt; besides, her Aunt being the Lady +<i>Abbess</i>, she had greater privilege than the rest; so that she had +no more to do, she thought, than to acquaint <i>Henault</i> with her +Design, as soon as she should get an opportunity. Which was not quickly; +but, in the mean time, <i>Isabella’s</i> Father dy’d, which put some +little stop to our Lover’s Happiness, and gave her a short time of +Grief; but Love, who, while he is new and young, can do us Miracles, +soon wip’d her Eyes, and chas’d away all Sorrows from her Heart, and +grew every day more and more impatient, to put her new Design in +Execution, being every day more resolv’d. Her Father’s Death had remov’d +one Obstacle, and secur’d her from his Reproaches; and now she only +wants Opportunity, first, to acquaint <i>Henault</i>, and then to +fly.</p> + +<p>She waited not long, all things concurring to her desire; for +<i>Katteriena</i> falling sick, she had the good luck, as she call’d it +then, to entertain <i>Henault</i> at the <i>Grate</i> oftentimes alone; +the first moment she did so, she entertain’d him with the good News, and +told him, She had at last vanquish’d her Heart in favour of him, and +loving him above all things, Honour, her Vow or Reputation, had resolv’d +to abandon her self wholly to him, to give her self up to love and serve +him, and that she had no other Consideration in the World; but +<i>Henault</i>, instead of returning her an Answer, all Joy and +Satisfaction, held down his Eyes, and Sighing, with a dejected Look, he +cry’d, ‘Ah, Madam! Pity a Man so wretched and undone, as not to be +sensible of this Blessing as I ought.’ She grew pale at this Reply, +<span class = "pagenum">297</span> +and trembling, expected he would proceed: ‘’Tis not (continued he) +that I want Love, tenderest Passion, and all the desire Youth and Love +can inspire; But, Oh, Madam! when I consider, (for raving mad in Love as +I am for your sake, I do consider) that if I should take you from +this Repose, Nobly Born and Educated, as you are; and, for that Act, +should find a rigid Father deprive me of all that ought to support you, +and afford your Birth, Beauty, and Merits, their due, what would you +say? How would you Reproach me?’ He sighing, expected her Answer, when +Blushes overspreading her Face, she reply’d, in a Tone all haughty and +angry, ‘Ah, <i>Henault</i>! Am I then refus’d, after having abandon’d +all things for you? Is it thus, you reward my Sacrific’d Honour, Vows, +and Virtue? Cannot you hazard the loss of Fortune to possess +<i>Isabella</i>, who loses all for you!’ Then bursting into Tears, at +her misfortune of Loving, she suffer’d him to say, ‘Oh, Charming fair +one! how industrious is your Cruelty, to find out new Torments for an +Heart, already press’d down with the Severities of Love? Is it possible, +you can make so unhappy a Construction of the tenderest part of my +Passion? And can you imagin it want of Love in me, to consider, how I +shall preserve and merit the vast Blessing Heaven has given me? Is my +Care a Crime? And would not the most deserving Beauty of the World hate +me, if I should, to preserve my Life, and satisfy the Passion of my fond +Heart, reduce her to the Extremities of Want and Misery? And is there +any thing, in what I have said, but what you ought to take for the +greatest Respect and tenderness!’ ‘Alas! (reply’d <i>Isabella</i> +sighing) young as I am, all unskilful in Love I find, but what I feel, +that Discretion is no part of it; and Consideration, inconsistent with +the Nobler Passion, who will subsist of its own Nature, and Love unmixed +with any other Sentiment? And ’tis not pure, if it be otherwise: +I know, had I mix’d Discretion with mine, my Love must have been +less, +<span class = "pagenum">298</span> +I never thought of living, but my Love; and, if I consider’d at all, it +was, that Grandure and Magnificence were useless Trifles to Lovers, +wholly needless and troublesom. I thought of living in some loanly +Cottage, far from the noise of crowded busie Cities, to walk with thee +in Groves, and silent Shades, where I might hear no Voice but thine; and +when we had been tir’d, to sit us done by some cool murmuring Rivulet, +and be to each a World, my Monarch thou, and I thy Sovereign Queen, +while Wreaths of Flowers shall crown our happy Heads, some fragrant Bank +our Throne, and Heaven our Canopy: Thus we might laugh at Fortune, and +the Proud, despise the duller World, who place their Joys in mighty Shew +and Equipage. Alas! my Nature could not bear it, I am unus’d to +Wordly Vanities, and would boast of nothing but my <i>Henault</i>; no +Riches, but his Love; no Grandure, but his Presence.’ She ended +speaking, with Tears, and he reply’d, ‘Now, now, I find, my +<i>Isabella</i> loves indeed, when she’s content to abandon the World +for my sake; Oh! thou hast named the only happy Life that suits my quiet +Nature, to be retir’d, has always been my Joy! But to be so with thee! +Oh! thou hast charm’d me with a Thought so dear, as has for ever +banish’d all my Care, but how to receive thy Goodness! Please think no +more what my angry Parent may do, when he shall hear, how I have +dispos’d of my self against his Will and Pleasure, but trust to Love and +Providence; no more! be gone all Thoughts, but those of +<i>Isabella</i>!’</p> + +<p>As soon as he had made an end of expressing his Joy, he fell to +consulting how, and when, she should escape; and since it was uncertain, +when she should be offer’d the Key, for she would not ask for it, she +resolv’d to give him notice, either by word of Mouth, or a bit of Paper +she would write in, and give him through the <i>Grate</i> the first +opportunity; and, parting for that time, they both resolv’d to get up +what was possible for their Support, till Time should reconcile Affairs +and Friends, and to wait the happy hour.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">299</span> +<p><i>Isabella’s</i> dead Mother had left Jewels, of the value of +2000<i>l.</i> to her Daughter, at her Decease, which Jewels were in the +possession, now, of the Lady <i>Abbess</i>, and were upon Sale, to be +added to the Revenue of the <i>Monastery</i>; and as <i>Isabella</i> was +the most Prudent of her Sex, at least, had hitherto been so esteem’d, +she was intrusted with all that was in possession of the Lady +<i>Abbess</i>, and ’twas not difficult to make her self Mistress of all +her own Jewels; as also, some 3 or 400<i>l.</i> in Gold, that was +hoarded up in her Ladyship’s Cabinet, against any Accidents that might +arrive to the <i>Monastery</i>; these <i>Isabella</i> also made her own, +and put up with the Jewels; and having acquainted <i>Henault</i>, with +the Day and Hour of her Escape, he got together what he could, and +waiting for her, with his Coach, one Night, when no body was awake but +her self, when rising softly, as she us’d to do, in the Night, to her +Devotion, she stole so dexterously out of the <i>Monastery</i>, as no +body knew any thing of it; she carry’d away the Keys with her, after +having lock’d all the Doors, for she was intrusted often with all. She +found <i>Henault</i> waiting in his Coach, and trusted none but an +honest Coachman that lov’d him; he receiv’d her with all the Transports +of a truly ravish’d Lover, and she was infinitely charm’d with the new +Pleasure of his Embraces and Kisses.</p> + +<p>They drove out of Town immediately, and because she durst not be seen +in that Habit, (for it had been immediate Death for both) they drove +into a Thicket some three Miles from the Town, where <i>Henault</i> +having brought her some of his younger Sister’s Clothes, he made her put +off her Habit, and put on those; and, rending the other, they hid them +in a Sand-pit, covered over with Broom, and went that Night forty Miles +from <i>Iper</i>, to a little Town upon the River <i>Rhine</i>, where, +changing their Names, they were forthwith married, and took a House in a +Country Village, a Farm, where they resolv’d to live retir’d, by +the name of <i>Beroone</i>, and drove a Farming Trade; +<span class = "pagenum">300</span> +however, not forgetting to set Friends and Engines at work, to get their +Pardon, as Criminals, first, that had trangress’d the Law; and, next, as +disobedient Persons, who had done contrary to the Will and Desire of +their Parents: <i>Isabella</i> writ to her Aunt the most moving Letters +in the World, so did <i>Henault</i> to his Father; but she was a long +time, before she could gain so much as an answer from her Aunt, and +<i>Henault</i> was so unhappy, as never to gain one from his Father; who +no sooner heard the News that was spread over all the Town and Country, +that young <i>Henault</i> was fled with the so fam’d <i>Isabella</i>, +a <i>Nun</i>, and singular for Devotion and Piety of Life, but he +immediately setled his Estate on his younger Son, cutting <i>Henault</i> +off with all his Birthright, which was 5000<i>l.</i> a Year. This News, +you may believe, was not very pleasing to the young Man, who tho’ in +possession of the loveliest Virgin, and now Wife, that ever Man was +bless’d with; yet when he reflected, he should have children by her, and +these and she should come to want, (he having been magnificently +Educated, and impatient of scanty Fortune) he laid it to Heart, and it +gave him a thousand Uneasinesses in the midst of unspeakable Joys; and +the more be strove to hide his Sentiments from <i>Isabella</i>, the more +tormenting it was within; he durst not name it to her, so insuperable a +Grief it would cause in her, to hear him complain; and tho’ she could +live hardly, as being bred to a devout and severe Life, he could not, +but must let the Man of Quality shew it self; even in the disguise of an +humbler Farmer: Besides all this, <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘hs’">he</ins> found nothing of his Industry thrive, his +Cattel still dy’d in the midst of those that were in full Vigour and +Health of other Peoples; his Crops of Wheat and Barly, and other Grain, +tho’ manag’d by able and knowing Husbandmen, were all, either Mildew’d, +or Blasted, or some Misfortune still arriv’d to him; his Coach-Horses +would fight and kill one another, his Barns sometimes be fir’d; so that +it became a Proverb all over the +<span class = "pagenum">301</span> +Country, if any ill Luck had arriv’d to any body, they would say, ‘They +had Monsieur <i>BEROONE’S</i> Luck.’ All these Reflections did but add +to his Melancholy, and he grew at last to be in some want, insomuch, +that <i>Isabella</i>, who had by her frequent Letters, and submissive +Supplications, to her Aunt, (who lov’d her tenderly) obtain’d her +Pardon, and her Blessing; she now press’d her for some Money, and +besought her to consider, how great a Fortune she had brought to the +<i>Monastery</i>, and implor’d, she would allow her some Sallary out of +it, for she had been marry’d two Years, and most of what she had was +exhausted. The Aunt, who found, that what was done, could not be undone, +did, from time to time, supply her so, as one might have liv’d very +decently on that very Revenue; but that would not satisfy the great +Heart of <i>Henault</i>. He was now about three and twenty Years old, +and <i>Isabella</i> about eighteen, too young, and too lovely a Pair, to +begin their Misfortunes so soon; they were both the most Just and Pious +in the World; they were Examples of Goodness, and Eminent for Holy +Living, and for perfect Loving, and yet nothing thriv’d they undertook; +they had no Children, and all their Joy was in each other; at last, one +good Fortune arriv’d to them, by the Solicitations of the Lady +<i>Abbess</i>, and the <i>Bishop</i>, who was her near Kinsman, they got +a Pardon for <i>Isabella’s</i> quitting the <i>Monastery</i>, and +marrying, so that she might now return to her own Country again. +<i>Henault</i> having also his Pardon, they immediately quit the place, +where they had remain’d for two Years, and came again into +<i>Flanders</i>, hoping, the change of place might afford ’em better +Luck.</p> + +<p><i>Henault</i> then began again to solicit his Cruel Father, but +nothing would do, he refus’d to see him, or to receive any Letters from +him; but, at last, he prevail’d so far with him, as that he sent a +Kinsman to him, to assure him, if he would leave his Wife, and go into +the <i>French</i> Campagn, he would Equip him as well as his Quality +requir’d, and +<span class = "pagenum">302</span> +that, according as he behav’d himself, he should gain his Favour; but if +he liv’d Idly at home, giving up his Youth and Glory to lazy Love, he +would have no more to say to him, but race him out of his Heart, and out +of his Memory.</p> + +<p>He had setled himself in a very pretty House, furnished with what was +fitting for the Reception of any Body of Quality that would live a +private Life, and they found all the Respect that their Merits deserv’d +from all the World, every body entirely loving and endeavouring to serve +them; and <i>Isabella</i> so perfectly had the Ascendent over her Aunt’s +Heart, that she procur’d from her all that she could desire, and much +more than she could expect. She was perpetually progging and saving all +that she could, to enrich and advance her, and, at last, pardoning and +forgiving <i>Henault</i>, lov’d him as her own Child; so that all things +look’d with a better Face than before, and never was so dear and fond a +Couple seen, as <i>Henault</i> and <i>Isabella</i>; but, at last, she +prov’d with Child, and the Aunt, who might reasonably believe, so young +a Couple would have a great many Children, and foreseeing there was <ins +class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘a / no’ at line break">no</ins> +Provision likely to be made them, unless he pleas’d his +Father, for if the Aunt should chance to dye, all their Hope was gone; +she therefore daily solicited him to obey his Father, and go to the +Camp; and that having atchiev’d Fame and Renown, he would return a +Favourite to his Father, and Comfort to his Wife: After she had +solicited in vain, for he was not able to endure the thought of leaving +<i>Isabella</i>, melancholy as he was with his ill Fortune; the +<i>Bishop</i>, kinsman to <i>Isabella</i>, took him to task, and urg’d +his Youth and Birth, and that he ought not to wast both without Action, +when all the World was employ’d; and, that since his Father had so great +a desire he should go into a Campagn, either to serve the +<i>Venetian</i> against the <i>Turks</i>, or into the <i>French</i> +Service, which he lik’d best; he besought him to think of it; and since +he had +<span class = "pagenum">303</span> +satisfy’d his Love, he should and ought to satisfy his Duty, it being +absolutely necessary for the wiping off the Stain of his Sacrilege, and +to gain him the favour of Heaven, which, he found, had hitherto been +averse to all he had undertaken: In fine, all his Friends, and all who +lov’d him, joyn’d in this Design, and all thought it convenient, nor was +he insensible of the Advantage it might bring him; but Love, which every +day grew fonder and fonder in his Heart, oppos’d all their Reasonings, +tho’ he saw all the Brave Youth of the Age preparing to go, either to +one Army, or the other.</p> + +<p>At last, he lets <i>Isabella</i> know, what Propositions he had made +him, both by his Father, and his Relations; at the very first Motion, +she almost fainted in his Arms, while he was speaking, and it possess’d +her with so intire a Grief, that she miscarry’d, to the insupportable +Torment of her tender Husband and Lover, so that, to re-establish her +Repose, he was forc’d to promise not to go; however, she consider’d all +their Circumstances, and weigh’d the Advantages that might redound both +to his Honour and Fortune, by it; and, in a matter of a Month’s time, +with the Persuasions and Reasons of her Friends, she suffer’d him to +resolve upon going, her self determining to retire to the +<i>Monastery</i>, till the time of his Return; but when she nam’d the +<i>Monastery</i>, he grew pale and disorder’d, and obliged her to +promise him, not to enter into it any more, for fear they should never +suffer her to come forth again; so that he resolv’d not to depart, till +she had made a Vow to him, never to go again within the Walls of a +Religious House, which had already been so fatal to them. She promis’d, +and he believ’d.</p> + +<p><i>Henault</i>, at last, overcame his Heart, which pleaded so for his +Stay, and sent his Father word, he was ready to obey him, and to carry +the first Efforts of his Arms against the common Foes of Christendom, +the <i>Turks</i>; his Father was very well pleas’d at this, and sent him +Two thousand +<span class = "pagenum">304</span> +Crowns, his Horses and Furniture sutable to his Quality, and a Man to +wait on him; so that it was not long e’re he got himself in order to be +gone, after a dismal parting.</p> + +<p>He made what hast he could to the <i>French</i> Army, then under the +Command of the Monsignior, the Duke of <i>Beaufort</i>, then at +<i>Candia</i>, and put himself a Voluntier under his Conduct; in which +Station was <i>Villenoys</i>, who, you have already heard, was so +passionate a Lover of <i>Isabella</i>, who no sooner heard of +<i>Henault’s</i> being arriv’d, and that he was Husband to +<i>Isabella</i>, but he was impatient to learn, by what strange +Adventure he came to gain her, even from her Vow’d Retreat, when he, +with all his Courtship, could not be so happy, tho’ she was then free in +the World, and Unvow’d to Heaven.</p> + +<p>As soon as he sent his Name to <i>Henault</i>, he was sent for up, +for <i>Henault</i> had heard of <i>Villenoys</i>, and that he had been a +Lover of <i>Isabella</i>; they receiv’d one another with all the +endearing Civility imaginable for the aforesaid Reason, and for that he +was his Country-man, tho’ unknown to him, <i>Villenoys</i> being gone to +the Army, just as <i>Henault</i> came from the <i>Jesuits</i> College. +A great deal of Endearment pass’d between them, and they became, +from that moment, like two sworn Brothers, and he receiv’d the whole +Relation from <i>Henault</i>, of his Amour.</p> + +<p>It was not long before the Siege began anew, for he arriv’d at the +beginning of the Spring, and, as soon as he came, almost, they fell to +Action; and it happen’d upon a day, that a Party of some Four hundred +Men resolv’d to sally out upon the Enemy, as, when ever they could, they +did; but as it is not my business to relate the History of the War, +being wholly unacquainted with the Terms of Battels, I shall only +say, That these Men were led by <i>Villenoys</i>, and that +<i>Henault</i> would accompany him in this Sally, and that they acted +very Noble, and great Things, worthy of a Memory in the History of that +Siege; but this day, particularly, they had an occasion to shew their +<span class = "pagenum">305</span> +Valour, which they did very much to their Glory; but, venturing too far, +they were ambush’d, in the persuit of the Party of the Enemies, and +being surrounded, <i>Villenoys</i> had the unhappiness to see his +gallant Friend fall, fighting and dealing of Wounds around him, even as +he descended to the Earth, for he fell from his Horse at the same moment +that he kill’d a <i>Turk</i>; and <i>Villenoys</i> could neither assist +him, nor had he the satisfaction to be able to rescue his dead Body from +under the Horses, but, with much ado, escaping with his own Life, got +away, in spite of all that follow’d him, and recover’d the Town, before +they could overtake him: He passionately bewail’d the Loss of this brave +young Man, and offer’d any Recompence to those, that would have ventur’d +to have search’d for his dead Body among the Slain; but it was not fit +to hazard the Living, for unnecessary Services to the Dead; and tho’ he +had a great mind to have Interr’d him, he rested content with what he +wish’d to pay his Friends Memory, tho’ he could not: So that all the +Service now he could do him, was, to write to <i>Isabella</i>, to whom +he had not writ, tho’ commanded by her so to do, in three Years before, +which was never since she took Orders. He gave her an Account of the +Death of her Husband, and how Gloriously he fell fighting for the Holy +Cross, and how much Honour he had won, if it had been his Fate to have +outliv’d that great, but unfortunate, Day, where, with 400 Men, they had +kill’d 1500 of the Enemy. The General <i>Beaufort</i> himself had so +great a Respect and Esteem for this young Man, and knowing him to be of +Quality, that he did him the honour to bemoan him, and to send a +Condoling Letter to <i>Isabella</i>, how much worth her Esteem he dy’d, +and that he had Eterniz’d his Memory with the last Gasp of his Life.</p> + +<p>When this News arriv’d, it may be easily imagin’d, what Impressions, +or rather Ruins, it made in the Heart of this fair Mourner; the Letters +came by his Man, who saw him fall in Battel, and came off with those few +that +<span class = "pagenum">306</span> +escap’d with <i>Villenoys</i>; he brought back what Money he had, +a few Jewels, with <i>Isabella’s</i> Picture that he carry’d with +him and had left in his Chamber in the Fort at <i>Candia</i>, for fear +of breaking it in Action. And now <i>Isabella’s</i> Sorrow grew to the +Extremity, she thought, she could not suffer more than she did by his +Absence, but she now found a Grief more killing; she hung her Chamber +with Black, and liv’d without the Light of Day: Only Wax Lights, that +let her behold the Picture of this Charming Man, before which she +sacrific’d Floods of Tears. He had now been absent about ten Months, and +she had learnt just to live without him, but Hope preserv’d her then; +but now she had nothing, for which to wish to live. She, for about two +Months after the News arriv’d, liv’d without seeing any Creature but a +young Maid, that was her Woman; but extream Importunity oblig’d her to +give way to the Visits of her Friends, who endeavour’d to restore her +Melancholy Soul to its wonted Easiness; for, however it was oppress’d +within, by <i>Henault’s</i> Absence, she bore it off with a modest +Chearfulness; but now she found, that Fortitude and Virtue fail’d her, +when she was assur’d, he was no more: She continu’d thus Mourning, and +thus inclos’d, the space of a whole Year, never suffering the Visit of +any Man, but of a near Relation; so that she acquir’d a Reputation, such +as never any young Beauty had, for she was now but Nineteen, and her +Face and Shape more excellent than ever; she daily increas’d in Beauty, +which, joyn’d to her Exemplary Piety, Charity, and all other excellent +Qualities, gain’d her a wonderous Fame, and begat an Awe and Reverence +in all that heard of her, and there was no Man of any Quality, that did +not Adore her. After her Year was up, she went to the Churches, but +would never be seen any where else abroad, but that was enough to +procure her a thousand Lovers; and some, who had the boldness to send +her Letters, which, if she receiv’d, she gave no Answer to, and many +<span class = "pagenum">307</span> +she sent back unread and unseal’d: So that she would encourage none, +tho’ their Quality was far beyond what she could hope; but she was +resolv’d to marry no more, however her Fortune might +require it.</p> + +<p>It happen’d, that, about this time, <i>Candia</i> being unfortunately +taken by the <i>Turks</i>, all the brave Men that escap’d the Sword, +return’d, among them, <i>Villenoys</i>, who no sooner arriv’d, but he +sent to let <i>Isabella</i> know of it, and to beg the Honour of waiting +on her; desirous to learn what Fate befel her dear Lord, she suffer’d +him to visit her, where he found her, in her Mourning, a thousand +times more Fair, (at least, he fancy’d so) than ever she +appear’d to be; so that if he lov’d her before, he now ador’d her; if he +burnt then, he rages now; but the awful Sadness, and soft Languishment +of her Eyes, hinder’d him from the presumption of speaking of his +Passion to her, tho’ it would have been no new thing; and his first +Visit was spent in the Relation of every Circumstance of +<i>Henault’s</i> Death; and, at his going away, he begg’d leave to visit +her sometimes, and she gave him permission: He lost no time, but made +use of the Liberty she had given him; and when his Sister, who was a +great Companion of <i>Isabella’s</i>, went to see her, he would still +wait on her; so that, either with his own Visits, and those of his +Sister’s, he saw <i>Isabella</i> every day, and had the good luck to +see, he diverted her, by giving her Relations of Transactions of the +Siege, and the Customs and Manners of the <i>Turks</i>: All he said, was +with so good a Grace, that he render’d every thing agreeable; he was, +besides, very Beautiful, well made, of Quality and Fortune, and fit to +inspire Love.</p> + +<p>He made his Visits so often, and so long, that, at last, he took the +Courage to speak of his Passion, which, at first, <i>Isabella</i> would +by no means hear of, but, by degrees, she yielded more and more to +listen to his tender Discourse; and he liv’d thus with her two Years, +before he could +<span class = "pagenum">308</span> +gain any more upon her Heart, than to suffer him to speak of Love to +her; but that, which subdu’d her quite was, That her Aunt, the Lady +<i>Abbess</i>, dy’d, and with her, all the Hopes and Fortune of +<i>Isabella</i>, so that she was left with only a Charming Face and +Meen, a Virtue, and a Discretion above her Sex, to make her Fortune +within the World; into a Religious House, she was resolv’d not to go, +because her Heart deceiv’d her once, and she durst not trust it again, +whatever it promis’d.</p> + +<p>The death of this Lady made her look more favourably on +<i>Villenoys</i>; but yet, she was resolv’d to try his Love to the +utmost, and keep him off, as long as ’twas possible she could subsist, +and ’twas for Interest she married again, tho’ she lik’d the Person very +well; and since she was forc’d to submit her self to be a second time a +Wife, she thought, she could live better with <i>Villenoys</i>, than any +other, since for him she ever had a great Esteem; and fancy’d the Hand +of Heaven had pointed out her Destiny, which she could not avoid, +without a Crime.</p> + +<p>So that when she was again importun’d by her impatient Lover, she +told him, She had made a Vow to remain three Years, at least, before she +would marry again, after the Death of the best of Men and Husbands, and +him who had the Fruits of her early Heart; and, notwith­standing all +the Solicitations of <i>Villenoys</i>, she would not consent to marry +him, till her Vow of Widowhood was expir’d.</p> + +<p>He took her promise, which he urg’d her to give him, and to shew the +height of his Passion in his obedience; he condescends to stay her +appointed time, tho’ he saw her every day, and all his Friends and +Relations made her Visits upon this new account, and there was nothing +talk’d on, but this design’d Wedding, which, when the time was expir’d, +was perform’d accordingly with great Pomp and Magnificence, for +<i>Villenoys</i> had no Parents to hinder his Design; or if he had, the +Reputation and Virtue of this Lady would have subdu’d them.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">309</span> +<p>The Marriage was celebrated in this House, where she liv’d ever since +her Return from <i>Germany</i>, from the time she got her Pardon; and +when <i>Villenoys</i> was preparing all things in a more magnificent +Order at his Villa, some ten Miles from the City, she was very +melancholy, and would often say, She had been us’d to such profound +Retreat, and to live without the fatigue of Noise and Equipage, that, +she fear’d, she should never endure that Grandeur, which was proper for +his Quality; and tho’ the House, in the Country, was the most +beautifully Situated in all <i>Flanders</i>, she was afraid of a +numerous Train, and kept him, for the most part, in this pretty City +Mansion, which he Adorn’d and Enlarg’d, as much as she would give him +leave; so that there wanted nothing, to make this House fit to receive +the People of the greatest Quality, little as it was: But all the +Servants and Footmen, all but one <i>Valet</i>, and the Maid, were +lodg’d abroad, for <i>Isabella</i>, not much us’d to the sight of Men +about her, suffer’d them as seldom as possible, to come in her Presence, +so that she liv’d more like a <i>Nun</i> still, than a Lady of the +World; and very rarely any Maids came about her, but <i>Maria</i>, who +had always permission to come, when ever she pleas’d, unless +forbidden.</p> + +<p>As <i>Villenoys</i> had the most tender and violent Passion for his +Wife, in the World, he suffer’d her to be pleas’d at any rate, and to +live in what Method she best lik’d, and was infinitely satisfy’d with +the Austerity and manner of her Conduct, since in his Arms, and alone, +with him, she wanted nothing that could Charm; so that she was esteemed +the fairest and best of Wives, and he the most happy of all Mankind. +When she would go abroad, she had her Coaches Rich and Gay, and her +Livery ready to attend her in all the Splendour imaginable; and he was +always buying one rich Jewel, or Necklace, or some great Rarity or +other, that might please her; so that there was nothing her Soul could +desire, which it had not, except +<span class = "pagenum">310</span> +the Assurance of Eternal Happiness, which she labour’d incessantly to +gain. She had no Discontent, but because she was not bless’d with a +Child; but she submits to the pleasure of Heaven, and endeavour’d, by +her good Works, and her Charity, to make the Poor her Children, and was +ever doing Acts of Virtue, to make the Proverb good, <i>That more are +the Children of the Barren, than the Fruitful Woman</i>. She liv’d in +this Tranquility, belov’d by all, for the space of five Years, and Time +(and perpetual Obligations from <i>Villenoys</i>, who was the most +indulgent and indearing Man in the World) had almost worn out of her +Heart the Thought of <i>Henault</i>, or if she remember’d him, it was in +her Prayers, or sometimes with a short sigh, and no more, tho’ it was a +great while, before she could subdue her Heart to that Calmness; but she +was prudent, and wisely bent all her Endeavours to please, oblige, and +caress, the deserving Living, and to strive all she could, to forget the +unhappy Dead, since it could not but redound to the disturbance of her +Repose, to think of him; so that she had now transferr’d all that +Tenderness she had for him, to <i>Villenoys</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Villenoys</i>, of all Diversions, lov’d Hunting, and kept, at his +Country House, a very famous Pack of Dogs, which he us’d to lend, +sometimes, to a young Lord, who was his dear Friend, and his Neighbour +in the Country, who would often take them, and be out two or three days +together, where he heard of Game, and oftentimes <i>Villenoys</i> and he +would be a whole Week at a time exercising in this Sport, for there was +no Game near at hand. This young Lord had sent him a Letter, to invite +him fifteen Miles farther than his own <i>Villa</i>, to hunt, and +appointed to meet him at his Country House, in order to go in search of +this promis’d Game; So that <i>Villenoys</i> got about a Week’s +Provision, of what Necessaries he thought he should want in that time; +and taking only his <i>Valet</i>, who lov’d the Sport, he left +<i>Isabella</i> for a Week to her Devotion, and +<span class = "pagenum">311</span> +her other innocent Diversions of fine Work, at which she was Excellent, +and left the Town to go meet this young Challenger.</p> + +<p>When <i>Villenoys</i> was at any time out, it was the custom of +<i>Isabella</i> to retire to her Chamber, and to receive no Visits, not +even the Ladies, so absolutely she devoted her self to her Husband: All +the first day she pass’d over in this manner, and Evening being come, +she order’d her Supper to be brought to her Chamber, and, because it was +Washing-day the next day, she order’d all her Maids to go very early to +Bed, that they might be up betimes, and to leave only <i>Maria</i> to +attend her; which was accordingly done. This <i>Maria</i> was a young +Maid, that was very discreet, and, of all things in the World, lov’d her +Lady, whom she had liv’d with, ever since she came from the +<i>Monastery</i>.</p> + +<p>When all were in Bed, and the little light Supper just carry’d up to +the Lady, and only, as I said, <i>Maria</i> attending, some body knock’d +at the Gate, it being about Nine of the Clock at Night; so <i>Maria</i> +snatching up a Candle, went to the Gate, to see who it might be; when +she open’d the Door, she found a Man in a very odd Habit, and a worse +Countenance, and asking, Who he would speak with? He told her, Her Lady: +My Lady (reply’d <i>Maria</i>) does not use to receive Visits at this +hour; Pray, what is your Business? He reply’d, That which I will deliver +only to your Lady, and that she may give me Admittance, pray, deliver +her this Ring: And pulling off a small Ring, with <i>Isabella’s</i> Name +and Hair in it, he gave it <i>Maria</i>, who, shutting the Gate upon +him, went in with the Ring; as soon as <i>Isabella</i> saw it, she was +ready to swound on the Chair where she sate, and cry’d, Where had you +this? <i>Maria</i> reply’d, An old rusty Fellow at the Gate gave it me, +and desired, it might be his Pasport to you; I ask’d his Name, but +he said, You knew him not, but he had great News to tell you. +<i>Isabella</i> reply’d, +<span class = "pagenum">312</span> +(almost swounding again) Oh, <i>Maria!</i> I am ruin’d. The Maid, all +this while, knew not what she meant, nor, that that was a Ring given to +<i>Henault</i> by her Mistress, but endeavouring to recover her, only +ask’d her, What she should say to the old Messenger? <i>Isabella</i> bid +her bring him up to her, (she had scarce Life to utter these last words) +and before she was well recover’d, <i>Maria</i> enter’d with the Man; +and <i>Isabella</i> making a Sign to her, to depart the Room, she was +left alone with him.</p> + +<p><i>Henault</i> (for it was he) stood trembling and speechless before +her, giving her leisure to take a strict Survey of him; at first finding +no Feature nor Part of <i>Henault</i> about him, her Fears began to +lessen, and she hop’d, it was not he, as her first Apprehensions had +suggested; when he (with the Tears of Joy standing in his Eyes, and not +daring suddenly to approach her, for fear of encreasing that Disorder he +saw in her pale Face) began to speak to her, and cry’d, Fair Creature! +is there no Remains of your <i>Henault</i> left in this Face of mine, +all o’regrown with Hair? Nothing in these Eyes, sunk with eight Years +Absence from you, and Sorrows? Nothing in this Shape, bow’d with Labour +and Griefs, that can inform you? I was once that happy Man you +lov’d! At these words, Tears stop’d his Speech, and <i>Isabella</i> kept +them Company, for yet she wanted Words. Shame and Confusion fill’d her +Soul, and she was not able to lift her Eyes up, to consider the Face of +him, whose Voice she knew so perfectly well. In one moment, she run over +a thousand Thoughts. She finds, by his Return, she is not only expos’d +to all the Shame imaginable; to all the Upbraiding, on his part, when he +shall know she is marry’d to another; but all the Fury and Rage of +<i>Villenoys</i>, and the Scorn of the Town, who will look on her as an +Adulteress: She sees <i>Henault</i> poor, and knew, she must fall from +all the Glory and Tranquility she had for five happy Years triumph’d in; +in which time, she had known no Sorrow, +<span class = "pagenum">313</span> +or Care, tho’ she had endur’d a thousand with <i>Henault</i>. She dyes, +to think, however, that he should know, she had been so lightly in Love +with him, to marry again; and she dyes, to think, that <i>Villenoys</i> +must see her again in the Arms of <i>Henault</i>; besides, she could not +recal her Love, for Love, like Reputation, once fled, never returns +more. ’Tis impossible to love, and cease to love, (and love another) and +yet return again to the first Passion, tho’ the Person have all the +Charms, or a thousand times more than it had, when it first conquer’d. +This Mistery in Love, it may be, is not generally known, but nothing is +more certain. One may a while suffer the Flame to languish, but there +may be a reviving Spark in the Ashes, rak’d up, that may burn anew; but +when ’tis quite extinguish’d, it never returns or rekindles.</p> + +<p>’Twas so with the Heart of <i>Isabella</i>; had she believ’d, +<i>Henault</i> had been living, she had lov’d to the last moment of +their Lives; but, alas! the Dead are soon forgotten, and she now lov’d +only <i>Villenoys</i>.</p> + +<p>After they had both thus silently wept, with very different +sentiments, she thought ’twas time to speak; and dissembling as well as +she could, she caress’d him in her Arms, and told him, She could not +express her Surprize and Joy for his Arrival. If she did not Embrace him +heartily, or speak so Passionately as she us’d to do, he fancy’d it her +Confusion, and his being in a condition not so fit to receive Embraces +from her; and evaded them as much as ’twas possible for him to do, in +respect to her, till he had dress’d his Face, and put himself in order; +but the Supper being just brought up, when he knock’d, she order’d him +to sit down and Eat, and he desir’d her not to let <i>Maria</i> know who +he was, to see how long it would be, before she knew him or would call +him to mind. But <i>Isabella</i> commanded <i>Maria</i>, to make up a +Bed in such a Chamber, without disturbing her Fellows, and dismiss’d her +from waiting at Table. The Maid admir’d, what +<span class = "pagenum">314</span> +strange, good, and joyful News, this Man had brought her Mistress, that +he was so Treated, and alone with her, which never any Man had yet been; +but she never imagin’d the Truth, and knew her Lady’s Prudence too well, +to question her Conduct. While they were at Supper, <i>Isabella</i> +oblig’d him to tell her, How he came to be reported Dead; of which, she +receiv’d Letters, both from Monsieur <i>Villenoys</i>, and the Duke of +<i>Beaufort</i>, and by his Man the News, who saw him Dead? He told her, +That, after the Fight, of which, first, he gave her an account, he being +left among the Dead, when the Enemy came to Plunder and strip ’em, they +found, he had Life in him, and appearing as an Eminent Person, they +thought it better Booty to save me, (continu’d he) and get my +Ransom, than to strip me, and bury me among the Dead; so they bore me +off to a Tent, and recover’d me to Life; and, after that, I was +recover’d of my Wounds, and sold, by the Soldier that had taken me, to a +Spahee, who kept me a Slave, setting a great Ransom on me, such as I was +not able to pay. I writ several times, to give you, and my Father, +an account of my Misery, but receiv’d no Answer, and endur’d seven Years +of Dreadful Slavery: When I found, at last, an opportunity to make my +Escape, and from that time, resolv’d, never to cut the Hair of this +Beard, till I should either see my dearest <i>Isabella</i> again, or +hear some News of her. All that I fear’d, was, That she was Dead; and, +at that word, he fetch’d a deep Sigh; and viewing all things so +infinitely more Magnificent than he had left ’em, or, believ’d, she +could afford; and, that she was far more Beautiful in Person, and Rich +in Dress, than when he left her: He had a thousand Torments of Jealousie +that seiz’d him, of which, he durst not make any mention, but rather +chose to wait a little, and see, whether she had lost her Virtue: He +desir’d, he might send for a Barber, to put his Face in some handsomer +Order, and more fit for the Happiness ’twas that Night +<span class = "pagenum">315</span> +to receive; but she told him, No Dress, no Disguise, could render him +more Dear and Acceptable to her, and that to morrow was time enough, and +that his Travels had render’d him more fit for Repose, than Dressing. So +that after a little while, they had talk’d over all they had a mind to +say, all that was very indearing on his side, and as much Concern as she +could force, on hers; she conducted him to his Chamber, which was very +rich, and which gave him a very great addition of Jealousie: However, he +suffer’d her to help him to Bed, which she seem’d to do, with all the +tenderness in the World; and when she had seen him laid, she said, She +would go to her Prayers, and come to him as soon as she had done, which +being before her usual Custom, it was not a wonder to him she stay’d +long, and he, being extreamly tir’d with his Journy, fell asleep. ’Tis +true, <i>Isabella</i> essay’d to Pray, but alas! it was in vain, she was +distracted with a thousand Thoughts what to do, which the more she +thought, the more it distracted her; she was a thousand times about to +end her Life, and, at one stroke, rid her self of the Infamy, that, she +saw, must inevitably fall upon her; but Nature was frail, and the +Tempter strong: And after a thousand Convulsions, even worse than Death +it self, she resolv’d upon the Murder of <i>Henault</i>, as the only +means of removing all the obstacles to her future Happiness; she +resolv’d on this, but after she had done so, she was seiz’d with so +great Horror, that she imagin’d, if she perform’d it, she should run +Mad; and yet, if she did not, she should be also Frantick, with the +Shames and Miseries that would befal her; and believing the Murder the +least Evil, since she could never live with him, she fix’d her Heart on +that; and causing her self to be put immediately to Bed, in her own Bed, +she made <i>Maria</i> go to hers, and when all was still, she softly +rose, and taking a Candle with her, only in her Night-Gown and Slippers, +she goes to the Bed of the Unfortunate <i>Henault</i>, with a Penknife +<span class = "pagenum">316</span> +in her hand; but considering, she knew not how to conceal the Blood, +should she cut his Throat, she resolves to Strangle him, or Smother him +with a Pillow; that last thought was no sooner borne, but put in +Execution; and, as he soundly slept, she smother’d him without any +Noise, or so much as his Strugling: But when she had done this dreadful +Deed, and saw the dead Corps of her once-lov’d Lord, lye Smiling +(as it were) upon her, she fell into a Swound with the Horror of +the Deed, and it had been well for her she had there dy’d; but she +reviv’d again, and awaken’d to more and new Horrors, she flyes all +frighted from the Chamber, and fancies, the Phantom of her dead Lord +persues her; she runs from Room to Room, and starts and stares, as if +she saw him continually before her. Now all that was ever Soft and Dear +to her, with him, comes into her Heart, and, she finds, he conquers +anew, being Dead, who could not gain her Pity, while Living.</p> + +<p>While she was thus flying from her Guilt, in vain, she hears one +knock with Authority at the Door: She is now more affrighted, if +possible, and knows not whither to fly for Refuge; she fancies, they are +already the Officers of Justice, and that Ten thousand Tortures and +Wrecks are fastening on her, to make her confess the horrid Murder; the +knocking increases, and so loud, that the Laundry Maids believing it to +be the Woman that us’d to call them up, and help them to Wash, rose, +and, opening the Door, let in <i>Villenoys</i>; who having been at his +Country <i>Villa</i>, and finding there a Footman, instead of his +Friend, who waited to tell him, His Master was fallen sick of the Small +Pox, and could not wait on him, he took Horse, and came back to his +lovely <i>Isabella</i>; but running up, as he us’d to do, to her +Chamber, he found her not, and seeing a Light in another Room, he went +in, but found <i>Isabella</i> flying from him, out at another Door, with +all the speed she could, he admires at this Action, and the more, +<span class = "pagenum">317</span> +because his Maid told him Her Lady had been a Bed a good while; he grows +a little Jealous, and persues her, but still she flies; at last he +caught her in his Arms, where she fell into a swound, but quickly +recovering, he set her down in a Chair, and, kneeling before her, +implor’d to know what she ayl’d, and why she fled from him, who ador’d +her? She only fix’d a ghastly Look upon him, and said, She was not well: +‘Oh! (said he) put not me off with such poor Excuses, +<i>Isabella</i> never fled from me, when Ill, but came to my Arms, and +to my Bosom, to find a Cure; therefore, tell me, what’s the matter?’ At +that, she fell a weeping in a most violent manner, and cry’d, She was +for ever undone: He, being mov’d with Love and Compassion, conjur’d her +to tell what she ayl’d: ‘Ah! (said she) thou and I, and all of us, are +undone!’ At this, he lost all Patience and rav’d, and cry’d, Tell me, +and tell me immediately, what’s the matter? When she saw his Face pale, +and his Eyes fierce, she fell on her knees, and cry’d, ‘Oh! you can +never Pardon me, if I should tell you, and yet, alas! I am innocent +of Ill, by all that’s good, I am.’ But her Conscience accusing her +at that word, she was silent. If thou art Innocent, said +<i>Villenoys</i>, taking her up in his Arms, and kissing her wet Face, +‘By all that’s Good, I Pardon thee, what ever thou hast done.’ +‘Alas! (said she) Oh! but I dare not name it, ’till you swear.’ ‘By all +that’s Sacred, (reply’d he) and by whatever Oath you can oblige me +to; by my inviolable Love to thee, and by thy own dear Self, +I swear, whate’re it be, I do forgive thee; I know, thou +art too good to commit a Sin I may not with Honour, pardon.’</p> + +<p>With this, and hearten’d by his Caresses, she told him, That +<i>Henault</i> was return’d; and repeating to him his Escape, she said, +She had put him to Bed, and when he expected her to come, she fell on +her Knees at the Bedside, and confess’d, She was married to +<i>Villenoys</i>; at that word (said she) he fetch’d a deep Sigh or two, +and presently +<span class = "pagenum">318</span> +after, with a very little struggling, dy’d; and, yonder, he lyes still +in the Bed. After this, she wept so abundantly, that all +<i>Villenoys</i> could do, could hardly calm her Spirits; but after, +consulting what they should do in this Affair, <i>Villenoys</i> ask’d +her, Who of the House saw him? She said, Only <i>Maria</i>, who knew not +who he was; so that, resolving to save <i>Isabella’s</i> Honour, which +was the only Misfortune to come, <i>Villenoys</i> himself propos’d the +carrying him out to the Bridge, and throwing him into the River, where +the Stream would carry him down to the Sea, and lose him; or, if he were +found, none could know him. So <i>Villenoys</i> took a Candle, and went +and look’d on him, and found him altogether chang’d, that no Body would +know who he was; he therefore put on his Clothes, which was not hard for +him to do, for he was scarce yet cold, and comforting again +<i>Isabella</i>, as well as he could, he went himself into the Stable, +and fetched a Sack, such as they us’d for Oats, a new Sack, whereon +stuck a great Needle, with a Pack-thread in it; this Sack he brings into +the House, and shews to <i>Isabella</i>, telling her, He would put the +Body in there, for the better convenience of carrying it on his Back. +<i>Isabella</i> all this while said but little, but, fill’d with +Thoughts all Black and Hellish, she ponder’d within, while the Fond and +Passionate <i>Villenoys</i> was endeavouring to hide her Shame, and to +make this an absolute Secret: She imagin’d, that could she live after a +Deed so black, <i>Villenoys</i> would be eternal reproaching her, if not +with his Tongue, at least with his Heart, and embolden’d by one +Wickedness, she was the readier for another, and another of such a +Nature, as has, in my Opinion, far less Excuse, than the first; but when +Fate begins to afflict, she goes through stitch with her Black Work.</p> + +<p>When <i>Villenoys</i>, who would, for the Safety of <i>Isabella’s</i> +Honour, be the sole Actor in the disposing of this Body; and since he +was Young, Vigorous, and Strong, and able +<span class = "pagenum">319</span> +to bear it, would trust no one with the Secret, he having put up the +Body, and ty’d it fast, set it on a Chair, turning his Back towards it, +with the more conveniency to take it upon his Back, bidding +<i>Isabella</i> give him the two Corners of the Sack in his Hands; +telling her, They must do this last office for the Dead, more, in order +to the securing their Honour and Tranquility hereafter, than for any +other Reason, and bid her be of good Courage, till he came back, for it +was not far to the Bridge, and it being the dead of the Night, he should +pass well enough. When he had the Sack on his Back, and ready to go with +it, she cry’d, Stay, my Dear, some of his Clothes hang out, which I will +put in; and with that, taking the Pack-needle with the Thread, sew’d the +Sack, with several strong Stitches, to the Collar of <i>Villenoy’s</i> +Coat, without his perceiving it, and bid him go now; and when you come +to the Bridge, (said she) and that you are throwing him over the Rail, +(which is not above Breast high) be sure you give him a good swing, +least the Sack should hang on any thing at the side of the Bridge, and +not fall into the Stream; I’le warrant you, (said <i>Villenoys</i>) I +know how to secure his falling. And going his way with it, Love lent him +Strength, and he soon arriv’d at the Bridge; where, turning his Back to +the Rail, and heaving the Body over, he threw himself with all his force +backward, the better to swing the Body into the River, whose weight +(it being made fast to his Collar) pull’d <i>Villenoys</i> after +it, and both the live and the dead Man falling into the River, which, +being rapid at the Bridge, soon drown’d him, especially when so great a +weight hung to his Neck; so that he dy’d, without considering what was +the occasion of his Fate.</p> + +<p><i>Isabella</i> remain’d the most part of the Night sitting in her +Chamber, without going to Bed, to see what would become of her Damnable +Design; but when it was towards Morning, and she heard no News, she put +herself into +<span class = "pagenum">320</span> +Bed, but not to find Repose or Rest there, for that she thought +impossible, after so great a Barbarity as she had committed; No, (said +she) it is but just I should for ever wake, who have, in one fatal +Night, destroy’d two such Innocents. Oh! what Fate, what Destiny, is +mine? Under what cursed Planet was I born, that Heaven it self could not +divert my Ruine? It was not many Hours since I thought my self the most +happy and blest of Women, and now am fallen to the Misery of one of the +worst Fiends of Hell.</p> + +<p>Such were her Thoughts, and such her Cryes, till the Light brought on +new Matter for Grief; for, about Ten of the Clock, News was brought, +that Two Men were found dead in the River, and that they were carry’d to +the Town-Hall, to lye there, till they were own’d: Within an hour after, +News was brought in, that one of these Unhappy Men was <i>Villenoys</i>; +his <i>Valet</i>, who, all this while, imagin’d him in Bed with his +Lady, ran to the Hall, to undeceive the People, for he knew, if his Lord +were gone out, he should have been call’d to Dress him; but finding it, +as ’twas reported, he fell a weeping, and wringing his Hands, in a most +miserable manner, he ran home with the News; where, knocking at his +Lady’s Chamber Door, and finding it fast lock’d, he almost hop’d again, +he was deceiv’d; but <i>Isabella</i> rising, and opening the Door, +<i>Maria</i> first enter’d weeping, with the News, and then brought the +<i>Valet</i>, to testify the fatal Truth of it. <i>Isabella</i>, tho’ it +were nothing but what she expected to hear, almost swounded in her +Chair; nor did she feign it, but felt really all the Pangs of Killing +Grief; and was so alter’d with her Night’s Watching and Grieving, that +this new Sorrow look’d very Natural in her. When she was recover’d, she +asked a thousand Questions about him, and question’d the Possibility of +it; for (said she) he went out this Morning early from me, and had no +signs, in his Face, of any Grief or Discontent. Alas! (said the +<i>Valet</i>) +<span class = "pagenum">321</span> +Madam, he is not his own Murderer, some one has done it in Revenge; and +then told her, how he was found fasten’d to a Sack, with a dead strange +Man ty’d up within it; and every body concludes, that they were both +first murder’d, and then drawn to the River, and thrown both in. At the +Relation of this Strange Man, she seem’d more amaz’d than before, and +commanding the <i>Valet</i> to go to the Hall, and to take Order about +the Coroner’s sitting on the Body of <i>Villenoys</i>, and then to have +it brought home: She called <i>Maria</i> to her, and, after bidding her +shut the Door, she cry’d, Ah, <i>Maria</i>! I will tell thee what my +Heart imagins; but first, (said she) run to the Chamber of the Stranger, +and see, if he be still in Bed, which I fear he is not; she did so, and +brought word, he was gone; then (said she) my Forebodings are true. When +I was in Bed last night, with <i>Villenoys</i> (and at that word, she +sigh’d as if her Heart-Strings had broken) I told him, I had +lodg’d a Stranger in my House, who was by, when my first Lord and +Husband fell in Battel; and that, after the Fight, finding him yet +alive, he spoke to him, and gave him that Ring you brought me last +Night; and conjur’d him, if ever his Fortune should bring him to +<i>Flanders</i>, to see me, and give me that Ring, and tell +me—(with that, she wept, and could scarce speak) a thousand +tender and endearing things, and then dy’d in his Arms. For my dear +<i>Henault’s</i> sake (said she) I us’d him nobly, and dismiss’d +you that Night, because I was asham’d to have any Witness of the Griefs +I paid his Memory: All this I told to <i>Villenoys</i> whom I found +disorder’d; and, after a sleepless Night, I fancy he got up, and +took this poor Man, and has occasion’d his Death: At that, she wept +anew, and <i>Maria</i>, to whom, all that her Mistress said, was Gospel, +verily believ’d it so, without examining Reason; and <i>Isabella</i> +conjuring her, since none of the House knew of the old Man’s being +there, (for Old he appear’d to be) that she would let it for ever +be a Secret, +<span class = "pagenum">322</span> +and, to this she bound her by an Oath; so that none knowing +<i>Henault</i>, altho’ his Body was expos’d there for three Days to +Publick View: When the Coroner had Set on the Bodies, he found, they had +been first Murder’d some way or other, and then afterwards tack’d +together, and thrown into the River, they brought the Body of +<i>Villenoys</i> home to his House, where, it being laid on a Table, all +the House infinitely bewail’d it; and <i>Isabella</i> did nothing but +swound away, almost as fast as she recover’d Life; however, she would, +to compleat her Misery, be led to see this dreadful Victim of her +Cruelty, and, coming near the Table, the Body, whose Eyes were before +close shut, now open’d themselves wide, and fix’d them upon +<i>Isabella</i>, who, giving a great Schreek, fell down in a swound, and +the Eyes clos’d again; they had much ado to bring her to Life, but, at +last, they did so, and led her back to her Bed, where she remain’d a +good while. Different Opinions and Discourses were made, concerning the +opening of the Eyes of the Dead Man, and viewing <i>Isabella</i>; but +she was a Woman of so admirable a Life and Conversation, of so undoubted +a Piety and Sanctity of Living, that not the least Conjecture could be +made, of her having a hand in it, besides the improbability of it; yet +the whole thing was a Mystery, which, they thought, they ought to look +into: But a few Days after, the Body of <i>Villenoys</i> being interr’d +in a most magnificent manner, and, by Will all he had, was long since +setled on <i>Isabella</i>, the World, instead of Suspecting her, Ador’d +her the more, and every Body of Quality was already hoping to be next, +tho’ the fair Mourner still kept her Bed, and Languish’d daily.</p> + +<p>It happen’d, not long after this, there came to the Town a +<i>French</i> Gentleman, who was taken at the Siege of <i>Candia</i>, +and was Fellow-Slave with <i>Henault</i>, for seven Years, in +<i>Turky</i>, and who had escap’d with <i>Henault</i>, and came as far +as <i>Liege</i> with him, where, having some +<span class = "pagenum">323</span> +Business and Acquaintance with a Merchant, he stay’d some time; but when +he parted with <i>Henault</i>, he ask’d him, Where he should find him in +<i>Flanders</i>? <i>Henault</i> gave him a Note, with his Name, and +Place of Abode, if his Wife were alive; if not, to enquire at his +Sister’s, or his Father’s. This <i>French</i> Man came at last, to the +very House of <i>Isabella</i>, enquiring for this Man, and receiv’d a +strange Answer, and was laugh’d at; He found, that was the House, and +that the Lady; and enquiring about the Town, and speaking of +<i>Henault’s</i> Return, describing the Man, it was quickly discover’d, +to be the same that was in the Sack: He had his Friend taken up (for he +was buried) and found him the same, and, causing a <i>Barber</i> to Trim +him, when his bushy Beard was off, a great many People remember’d +him; and the <i>French</i> Man affirming, he went to his own Home, all +<i>Isabella’s</i> Family, and her self, were cited before the Magistrate +of Justice, where, as soon as she was accus’d, she confess’d the whole +Matter of Fact, and, without any Disorder, deliver’d her self in the +Hands of Justice, as the Murderess of two Husbands (both belov’d) in one +Night: The whole World stood amaz’d at this; who knew her Life a Holy +and Charitable Life, and how dearly and well she had liv’d with her +Husbands, and every one bewail’d her Misfortune, and she alone was the +only Person, that was not afflicted for her self; she was Try’d, and +Condemn’d to lose her Head; which Sentence, she joyfully receiv’d, and +said, Heaven, and her Judges, were too Merciful to her, and that her +Sins had deserv’d much more.</p> + +<p>While she was in Prison, she was always at Prayers, and very Chearful +and Easie, distributing all she had amongst, and for the Use of, the +Poor of the Town, especially to the Poor Widows; exhorting daily, the +Young, and the Fair, that came perpetually to visit her, never to break +a Vow: for that was first the Ruine of her, and she never since +prosper’d, do whatever other good Deeds she could. +<span class = "pagenum">324</span> +When the day of Execution came, she appear’d on the Scaffold all in +Mourning, but with a Meen so very Majestick and Charming, and a Face so +surprizing Fair, where no Languishment or Fear appear’d, but all +Chearful as a Bride, that she set all Hearts a flaming, even in that +mortifying Minute of Preparation for Death: She made a Speech of half an +Hour long, so Eloquent, so admirable a warning to the +<i>Vow-Breakers</i>, that it was as amazing to hear her, as it was to +behold her.</p> + +<p>After she had done with the help of <i>Maria</i>, she put off her +Mourning Vail, and, without any thing over her Face, she kneel’d down, +and the Executioner, at one Blow, sever’d her Beautiful Head from her +Delicate Body, being then in her Seven and Twentieth Year. She was +generally Lamented, and Honourably Bury’d.</p> + +<h4 class = "final">FINIS.</h4> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "history_notes" id = "history_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The History of the Nun.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "nun_comm1" id = "nun_comm1" href = "#nun_commtag1">p. 262</a> +<i>The Dutchess of Mazarine.</i> Hortense Mancini, niece of the great +Cardinal, was born at Rome in 1646. Her beauty and wit were such that +Charles II (whilst in exile) and other princes of royal blood sought her +hand. She married, however, 28 February, 1661, Armand-Charles +<span class = "pagenum">522</span> +de la Meilleraye, said to be ‘the richest subject in Europe’. The union +was unhappy, and in 1666 she demanded a judicial separation. Fearful, +however, lest this should be refused, she fled from Paris 13 June, 1668, +and, after several years of wandering, in 1675 came to London at the +invitation of Charles II, who assigned her a pension. Her gallantries, +her friendship with Saint-Evremond, her lavish patronage of the fine +arts and literature are well known. She died at her Chelsea house in the +summer of 1699. Her end is said to have been hastened by intemperance. +Evelyn dubs her ‘the famous beauty and errant lady.’</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">325</span> +<a name = "nun_perjurd" id = "nun_perjurd"> </a> + +<h3>THE NUN; OR,<br> +THE PERJUR’D BEAUTY.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">327</span> + +<h4><a name = "perjurd_main" id = "perjurd_main">THE NUN:</a><br> +or, The Perjur’d Beauty.<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">A True Novel.</span></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">Don</span> <i>Henrique</i> was a Person of +great Birth, of a great Estate, of a Bravery equal to either, of a most +generous Education, but of more Passion than Reason: He was besides of +an opener and freer Temper than generally his Countrymen are +(I mean, the <i>Spaniards</i>) and always engag’d in some +Love-Intrigue or other.</p> + +<p>One Night as he was retreating from one of those Engagements, Don +<i>Sebastian</i>, whose Sister he had abus’d with a Promise of Marriage, +set upon him at the Corner of a Street, in <i>Madrid</i>, and by the +Help of three of his Friends, design’d to have dispatch’d him on a +doubtful Embassy to the Almighty Monarch: But he receiv’d their first +Instructions with better Address than they expected, and dismiss’d his +Envoy first, killing one of Don <i>Sebastian’s</i> Friends. Which so +enrag’d the injur’d Brother, that his Strength and Resolution seem’d to +be redoubled, and so animated his two surviving Companions, that +(doubtless) they had gain’d a dishonourable Victory, had not Don +<i>Antonio</i> accidentally come in to the Rescue; who after a short +Dispute, kill’d one of the two who attack’d him only; whilst Don +<i>Henrique</i>, with the greatest Difficulty, defended his Life, for +some Moments, against <i>Sebastian</i>, whose Rage depriv’d him of +Strength, and gave his Adversary the unwish’d Advantage of his seeming +Death, tho’ not without bequeathing some bloody Legacies to Don +<i>Henrique</i>. <i>Antonio</i> had receiv’d but one slight Wound in the +left Arm, and his surviving Antagonist none; who however thought it not +adviseable to begin a fresh Dispute against two, of whose Courage he had +but too fatal a +<span class = "pagenum">328</span> +Proof, tho’ one of ’em was sufficiently disabled. The Conquerors, on the +other Side, politickly retreated, and quitting the Field to the +Conquer’d, left the Living to bury the Dead, if he could, or thought +convenient.</p> + +<p>As they were marching off, Don <i>Antonio</i>, who all this while +knew not whose Life he had so happily preserv’d, told his Companion in +Arms, that he thought it indispensibly necessary that he should quarter +with him that Night, for his further Preservation. To which he prudently +consented, and went, with no little Uneasiness, to his Lodgings; where +he surpriz’d <i>Antonio</i> with the Sight of his dearest Friend. For +they had certainly the nearest Sympathy in all their Thoughts, that ever +made two brave Men unhappy: And, undoubtedly, nothing but Death, or more +fatal Love, could have divided them. However, at present, they were +united and secure.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Don <i>Sebastian’s</i> Friend was just going to +call Help to carry off the Bodies, as the <span class = +"dash">——</span> came by; who seeing three Men lie dead, +seiz’d the fourth; who as he was about to justify himself, by +discovering one of the Authors of so much Blood-shed, was interrupted by +a Groan from his supposed dead Friend Don <i>Sebastian</i>; whom, after +a brief Account of some Part of the Matter, and the Knowledge of his +Quality, they took up, and carried to his House; where, within a few +Days, he was recovered past the Fear of Death. All this While +<i>Henrique</i> and <i>Antonio</i> durst not appear, so much as by +Night; nor could be found, tho’ diligent and daily Search was made after +the first; but upon Don <i>Sebastian’s</i> Recovery, the Search ceasing, +they took the Advantage of the Night, and, in Disguise, retreated to +<i>Seville</i>. ’Twas there they thought themselves most secure, where +indeed they were in the greatest Danger; for tho’ (haply) they might +there have escap’d the murderous Attempt of Don <i>Sebastian</i>, and +his Friends, yet they could not there avoid the malicious Influence of +their Stars.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">329</span> +<p>This City gave Birth to <i>Antonio</i>, and to the Cause of his +greatest Misfortunes, as well as of his Death. Dona <i>Ardelia</i> was +born there, a Miracle of Beauty and Falshood. ’Twas more than a +Year since Don <i>Antonio</i> had first seen and loved her. For ’twas +impossible any Man should do one without the other. He had had the +unkind Opportunity of speaking and conveying a Billet to her at Church; +and to his greater Misfortune, the next Time he found her there, he met +with too Kind a Return both from her Eyes and from her Hand, which +privately slipt a Paper into his; in which he found abundantly more than +he expected, directing him in that, how he should proceed, in order to +carry her off from her Father with the least Danger he could look for in +such an Attempt; since it would have been vain and fruitless to have +asked her of her Father, because their Families had been at Enmity for +several Years; tho’ <i>Antonio</i> was as well descended as she, and had +as ample a Fortune; nor was his Person, according to his Sex, any way +inferior to her’s; and certainly, the Beauties of his Mind were more +excellent, especially if it be an Excellence to be constant.</p> + +<p>He had made several Attempts to take Possession of her; but all +prov’d ineffectual; however, he had the good Fortune not to be known, +tho’ once or twice he narrowly escap’d with Life, bearing off his Wounds +with Difficulty.—(Alas, that the Wounds of Love should cause those +of Hate!) Upon which she was strictly confin’d to one Room, whose only +Window was towards the Garden, and that too was grated with Iron; and, +once a Month, when she went to Church, she was constantly and carefully +attended by her Father, and a Mother-in-Law, worse than a <i>Duegna</i>. +Under this miserable Confinement <i>Antonio</i> understood she still +continued, at his Return to <i>Seville</i>, with Don <i>Henrique</i>, +whom he acquainted with his invincible Passion for her; lamenting the +Severity of her present Circumstances, that admitted of no Prospect +<span class = "pagenum">330</span> +of Relief; which caus’d a generous Concern in Don <i>Henrique</i>, both +for the Sufferings of his Friend, and of the Lady. He proposed several +Ways to Don <i>Antonio</i>, for the Release of the fair Prisoner; but +none of them was thought practicable, or at least likely to succeed. But +<i>Antonio</i>, who (you may believe) was then more nearly engag’d, +bethought himself of an Expedient that would undoubtedly reward their +Endeavours. ’Twas, that Don <i>Henrique</i>, who was very well +acquainted with <i>Ardelia’s</i> Father, should make him a Visit, with +Pretence of begging his Consent and Admission to make his Addresses to +his Daughter; which, in all Probability, he could not refuse to Don +<i>Henrique’s</i> Quality and Estate; and then this Freedom of Access to +her would give him the Opportunity of delivering the Lady to his Friend. +This was thought so reasonable, that the very next Day it was put in +Practice; and with so good Success, that Don <i>Henrique</i> was +received by the Father of <i>Ardelia</i> with the greatest and most +respectful Ceremony imaginable: And when he made the Proposal to him of +marrying his Daughter, it was embraced with a visible Satisfaction and +Joy in the Air of his Face. This their first Conversation ended with all +imaginable Content on both Sides; Don <i>Henrique</i> being invited by +the Father to Dinner the next Day, when Dona <i>Ardelia</i> was to be +present; who, at that Time, was said to be indispos’d, (as ’tis +very probable she was, with so close an Imprisonment.) <i>Henrique</i> +returned to <i>Antonio</i>, and made him happy with the Account of his +Reception; which could not but have terminated in the perfect Felicity +of <i>Antonio</i>, had his Fate been just to the Merits of his Love. The +Day and Hour came which brought <i>Henrique</i>, with a private +Commission from his Friend, to <i>Ardelia</i>. He saw +her;—(ah! would he had only seen her veil’d!) and, with the +first Opportunity, gave her the Letter, which held so much Love, and so +much Truth, as ought to have preserved him in the Empire of her Heart. +It +<span class = "pagenum">331</span> +contained, besides, a Discovery of his whole Design upon her +Father, for the compleating of their Happiness; which nothing then could +obstruct but her self. But <i>Henrique</i> had seen her; he had gaz’d, +and swallowed all her Beauties at his Eyes. How greedily his Soul drank +the strong Poison in! But yet his Honour and his Friendship were strong +as ever, and bravely fought against the Usurper Love, and got a noble +Victory; at least he thought and wish’d so. With this, and a short +Answer to his Letter, <i>Henrique</i> return’d to the longing +<i>Antonio</i>; who, receiving the Paper with the greatest Devotion, and +kissing it with the greatest Zeal, open’d and read these Words to +himself:</p> + +<p class = "salutation"> +<i>Don <em>Antonio</em>,</i></p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">You</span> have, at last, made Use of the best +and only Expedient for my Enlargement; for which I thank you, since I +know it is purely the Effect of your Love. Your Agent has a mighty +Influence on my Father: And you may assure yourself, that as you have +advis’d and desir’d me, he shall have no less on me, who am</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your’s entirely,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span> And only your’s,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span> <i>ARDELIA</i>.</p> + +<p>Having respectfully and tenderly kiss’d the Name, he could not chuse +but shew the <i>Billet</i> to his Friend; who reading that Part of it +which concern’d himself, started and blush’d: Which <i>Antonio</i> +observing, was curious to know the Cause of it. <i>Henrique</i> told +him, That he was surpriz’d to find her express so little Love, after so +long an Absence. To which his Friend reply’d for her, That, doubtless, +she had not Time enough to attempt so great a Matter as a perfect +Account of her Love; and added, that it was Confirmation enough to him +of its Continuance, since she subscrib’d her self his entirely, and only +his.—How blind is Love! Don <i>Henrique</i> knew how to make it +bear another Meaning; which, however, he had +<span class = "pagenum">332</span> +the Discretion to conceal. <i>Antonio</i>, who was as real in his +Friendship, as constant in his Love, ask’d him what he thought of her +Beauty? To which the other answer’d, that he thought it irresistable to +any, but to a Soul preposses’d, and nobly fortify’d with a perfect +Friendship:—Such as is thine, my <i>Henrique</i>, (added +<i>Antonio</i>;) yet as sincere and perfect as that is, I know you +must, nay, I know you do love her. As I ought to do, (reply’d +<i>Henrique</i>.) Yes, yes, (return’d his Friend) it must be so; +otherwise the Sympathy which unites our Souls would be wanting, and +consequently our Friendship were in a State of Imperfection. How +industriously you would argue me into a Crime, that would tear and +destroy the Foundation of the strongest Ties of Truth and Honour! (said +<i>Henrique</i>.) But (he continu’d) I hope within a few Days, +to put it out of my Power to be guilty of so great a Sacrilege. +I can’t determine (said <i>Antonio</i>) if I knew that you lov’d +one another, whether I could easier part with my Friend, or my Mistress. +Tho’ what you say, is highly generous, (reply’d <i>Henrique</i>) yet +give me Leave to urge, that it looks like a Trial of Friendship, and +argues you inclinable to Jealousy: But, pardon me, I know it to be +sincerely meant by you; and must therefore own, that ’tis the best, +because ’tis the noblest Way of securing both your Friend and Mistress. +I need not make use of any Arts to secure me of either, (reply’d +<i>Antonio</i>) but expect to enjoy ’em both in a little Time.</p> + +<p><i>Henrique</i>, who was a little uneasy with a Discourse of this +Nature, diverted it, by reflecting on what had pass’d at <i>Madrid</i>, +between them two and Don <i>Sebastian</i> and his Friends; which caus’d +<i>Antonio</i> to bethink himself of the Danger to which he expos’d his +Friend, by appearing daily, tho’ in Disguise: For, doubtless, Don +<i>Sebastian</i> would pursue his Revenge to the utmost Extremity. These +Thoughts put him upon desiring his Friend, for his own Sake, to hasten +the Performance of his Attempt; and +<span class = "pagenum">333</span> +accordingly, each Day Don <i>Henrique</i> brought <i>Antonio</i> nearer +the Hopes of Happiness, while he himself was hourly sinking into the +lowest State of Misery. The last Night before the Day in which +<i>Antonio</i> expected to be bless’d in her Love, Don <i>Henrique</i> +had a long and fatal Conference with her about her Liberty. Being then +with her alone in an Arbour of the Garden, which Privilege he had had +for some Days; after a long Silence, and observing Don <i>Henrique</i> +in much Disorder, by the Motion of his Eyes, which were sometimes +stedfastly fix’d on the Ground, then lifted up to her or Heaven, (for he +could see nothing more beautiful on Earth) she made use of the Privilege +of her Sex, and began the Discourse first, to this Effect:—Has any +Thing happened, Sir, since our Retreat hither, to occasion that Disorder +which is but too visible in your Face, and too dreadful in your +continued Silence? Speak, I beseech you, Sir, and let me know if I +have any Way unhappily contributed to it! No, Madam, (replyed he) +my Friendship is now likely to be the only Cause of my greatest Misery; +for To-morrow I must be guilty of an unpardonable Crime, in betraying +the generous Confidence which your noble Father has plac’d in me: +To-morrow (added he, with a piteous Sigh) I must deliver you into +the Hands of one whom your Father hates even to Death, instead of doing +myself the Honour of becoming his Son-in-law within a few Days +more.—But—I will consider and remind myself, that I +give you into the Hands of my Friend; of my Friend, that loves you +better than his Life, which he has often expos’d for your Sake; and what +is more than all, to my Friend, whom you love more than any +Consideration on Earth.—And must this be done? (she ask’d.) Is it +inevitable as Fate?—Fix’d as the Laws of Nature, Madam, +(reply’d he) don’t you find the Necessity of it, <i>Ardelia</i>? +(continued he, by Way of Question:) Does not your Love require it? +Think, you are going to your dear <i>Antonio</i>, who alone can merit +you, and whom only +<span class = "pagenum">334</span> +you can love. Were your last Words true (returned she) I should yet +be unhappy in the Displeasure of a dear and tender Father, and +infinitely more, in being the Cause of your Infidelity to him: No, Don +<i>Henrique</i> (continued she) I could with greater Satisfaction +return to my miserable Confinement, than by any Means disturb the Peace +of your Mind, or occasion one Moment’s Interruption of your +Quiet.—Would to Heaven you did not, (sigh’d he to himself.) Then +addressing his Words more distinctly to her, cry’d he, Ah, cruel! ah, +unjust <i>Ardelia</i>! these Words belong to none but <i>Antonio</i>; +why then would you endeavour to persuade me, that I do, or even can +merit the Tenderness of such an Expression?—Have a Care! +(pursued he) have a Care, <i>Ardelia</i>! your outward Beauties are +too powerful to be resisted; even your Frowns have such a Sweetness that +they attract the very Soul that is not strongly prepossessed with the +noblest Friendship, and the highest Principles of Honour: Why then, +alas! did you add such sweet and Charming Accents? Why—ah, Don +<i>Henrique</i>! (she interrupted) why did you appear to me so charming +in your Person, so great in your Friendship, and so illustrious in your +Reputation? Why did my Father, ever since your first Visit, continually +fill my Ears and Thoughts with noble Characters and glorious Ideas, +which yet but imperfectly and faintly represent the inimitable +Original!—But—(what is most severe and cruel) why, Don +<i>Henrique</i>, why will you defeat my Father in his Ambition of your +Alliance, and me of those glorious Hopes with which you had bless’d my +Soul, by casting me away from you to <i>Antonio</i>!—Ha! (cry’d +he, starting) what said you, Madam? What did <i>Ardelia</i> say? That I +had bless’d your Soul with Hopes! That I would cast you away to +<i>Antonio</i>!—Can they who safely arrive in their wish’d-for +Port, be said to be shipwreck’d? Or, can an abject indigent Wretch make +a King?—These are more than Riddles, Madam; and I must not think +to expound ’em. +<span class = "pagenum">335</span> +No, (said she) let it alone, Don <i>Henrique</i>; I’ll ease you of that +Trouble, and tell you plainly that I love you. Ah! (cry’d he) now +all my Fears are come upon me!—How! (ask’d she) were you afraid I +should love you? Is my Love so dreadful then? Yes, when misplac’d +(reply’d he;) but ’twas your Falshood that I fear’d: Your Love was +what I would have sought with the utmost Hazard of my Life, nay, even of +my future Happiness, I fear, had you not been engag’d: strongly +oblig’d to love elsewhere, both by your own Choice and Vows, as well as +by his dangerous Services, and matchless Constancy. For which (said she) +I do not hate him, tho’ his Father kill’d my Uncle: Nay, perhaps +(continu’d she) I have a Friendship for him, but no more. No more, +said you, Madam? (cry’d he;)—but tell me, did you never love +him? Indeed, I did, (reply’d she;) but the Sight of you has better +instructed me, both in my Duty to my Father, and in causing my Passion +for you, without whom I shall be eternally miserable. Ah, then pursue +your honourable Proposal, and make my Father happy in my Marriage! It +must not be (return’d Don <i>Henrique</i>) my Honour, my Friendship +forbids it. No (she return’d) your Honour requires it; and if your +Friendship opposes your Honour, it can have no sure and solid +Foundation. Female Sophistry! (cry’d <i>Henrique</i>;) but you need no +Art nor Artifice, <i>Ardelia</i>, to make me love you: Love you! +(pursu’d he:) By that bright Sun, the Light and Heat of all the +World, you are my only Light and Heat—Oh, Friendship! Sacred +Friendship, now assist me!—[Here for a Time he paus’d, and then +afresh proceeded thus,]—You told me, or my Ears deceiv’d me, that +you lov’d me, <i>Ardelia</i>. I did, she reply’d; and that I do love +you, is as true as that I told you so. ’Tis well;—But would it +were not so! Did ever Man receive a Blessing thus?—Why, +I could wish I did not love you, <i>Ardelia</i>! But that were +impossible—At least unjust, (interrupted she.) Well then +(he went on) to shew +<span class = "pagenum">336</span> +you that I do sincerely consult your particular Happiness, without any +regard to my own, To-morrow I will give you to Don <i>Antonio</i>; and +as a Proof of your Love to me, I expect your ready Consent to it. +To let you see, Don <i>Henrique</i>, how perfectly and tenderly I love +you, I will be sacrificed To-morrow to Don <i>Antonio</i>, and to +your Quiet. Oh, strongest, dearest Obligation!—cry’d +<i>Henrique</i>: To-morrow then, as I have told your Father, I am +to bring you to see the dearest Friend I have on Earth, who dares not +appear within this City for some unhappy Reasons, and therefore cannot +be present at our Nuptials; for which Cause, I could not but think +it my Duty to one so nearly related to my Soul, to make him happy in the +Sight of my beautiful Choice, e’er yet she be my Bride. I hope +(said she) my loving Obedience may merit your Compassion; and that at +last, e’er the Fire is lighted that must consume the Offering, +I mean the Marriage-Tapers (alluding to the old <i>Roman</i> +Ceremony) that you or some other pitying Angel, will snatch me from the +Altar. Ah, no more, <i>Ardelia</i>! say no more (cry’d he) we must +be cruel, to be just to our selves. [Here their Discourse ended, and +they walked into the House, where they found the good old Gentleman and +his Lady, with whom he stay’d till about an Hour after Supper, when he +returned to his Friend with joyful News, but a sorrowful Heart.]</p> + +<p><i>Antonio</i> was all Rapture with the Thoughts of the approaching +Day; which tho’ it brought Don <i>Henrique</i> and his dear +<i>Ardelia</i> to him, about five o’Clock in the Evening, yet at the +same Time brought his last and greatest Misfortune. He saw her then at a +She Relation’s of his, above three Miles from <i>Seville</i>, which was +the Place assigned for their fatal Interview. He saw her, I say; +but ah! how strange! how altered from the dear, kind <i>Ardelia</i> she +was when last he left her! ’Tis true, he flew to her with Arms expanded, +and with so swift and eager a Motion, that she could not avoid, nor get +loose from +<span class = "pagenum">337</span> +his Embrace, till he had kissed, and sighed, and dropt some Tears, which +all the Strength of his Mind could not restrain; whether they were the +Effects of Joy, or whether (which rather may be feared) they were the +Heat-drops which preceded and threaten’d the Thunder and Tempest that +should fall on his Head, I cannot positively say; yet all this she +was then forced to endure, e’er she had Liberty to speak, or indeed to +breathe. But as soon as she had freed herself from the loving Circle +that should have been the dear and lov’d Confinement or Centre of a +Faithful Heart, she began to dart whole Showers of Tortures on him from +her Eyes; which that Mouth that he had just before so tenderly and +sacredly kiss’d, seconded with whole Volleys of Deaths crammed in every +Sentence, pointed with the keenest Affliction that ever pierc’d a Soul. +<i>Antonio</i>, (she began) you have treated me now as if you were never +like to see me more: and would to Heaven you were not!—Ha! (cry’d +he, starting and staring wildly on her;) What said you, Madam? What said +you, my <i>Ardelia</i>? If you like the Repetition, take it? (reply’d +she, unmoved) <i>Would to Heaven you were never like to see me more!</i> +Good! very Good! (cry’d he, with a Sigh that threw him trembling into a +Chair behind him, and gave her the Opportunity of proceeding +thus:)—Yet, <i>Antonio</i>, I must not have my Wish; I must +continue with you, not out of Choice, but by Command, by the strictest +and severest Obligation that ever bound Humanity; Don <i>Henrique</i>, +your Friend, commands it; Don <i>Henrique</i>, the dearest Object of my +Soul, enjoins it; Don <i>Henrique</i>, whose only Aversion I am, will +have it so. Oh, do not wrong me, Madam! (cry’d Don <i>Henrique</i>.) +Lead me, lead me a little more by the Light of your Discourse, +I beseech you (said Don <i>Antonio</i>) that I may see your +Meaning! for hitherto ’tis Darkness all to me. Attend therefore with +your best Faculties (pursu’d <i>Ardelia</i>) and know, That I do most +sincerely and most passionately +<span class = "pagenum">338</span> +love Don <i>Henrique</i>; and as a Proof of my Love to him, I have +this Day consented to be delivered up to you by him; not for your Sake +in the least, <i>Antonio</i>, but purely to sacrifice all the Quiet of +my Life to his Satisfaction. And now, Sir (continued she, addressing her +self to Don <i>Henrique</i>) now, Sir, if you can be so cruel, execute +your own most dreadful Decree, and join our Hands, though our Hearts +never can meet. All this to try me! It’s too much, +<i>Ardelia</i>—(said <i>Antonio</i>:) And then turning to Don +<i>Henrique</i>, he went on, Speak thou! if yet thou art not Apostate to +our Friendship! Yet speak, however! Speak, though the Devil has been +tampering with thee too! Thou art a Man, a Man of Honour once. And +when I forfeit my just Title to that (interrupted Don <i>Henrique</i>) +may I be made most miserable!—May I lose the Blessings of thy +Friendship!—May I lose thee!—Say on then, <i>Henrique</i>! +(cry’d <i>Antonio</i>:) And I charge thee, by all the sacred Ties of +Friendship, say, Is this a Trial of me? Is’t Illusion, Sport, or +shameful murderous Truth?—Oh, my Soul burns within me, and I can +bear no longer!—Tell! Speak! Say on!—[Here, with folded +Arms, and Eyes fixed stedfastly on <i>Henrique</i>, he stood like a +Statue, without Motion; unless sometimes, when his swelling Heart raised +his over-charged Breast.] After a little Pause, and a hearty Sigh or +two, <i>Henrique</i> began;—Oh, <i>Antonio</i>! Oh my Friend! +prepare thy self to hear yet more dreadful Accents!—I am +(pursu’d he) unhappily the greatest and most innocent Criminal that +e’er till now offended:—I love her, +<i>Antonio</i>,—I love <i>Ardelia</i> with a Passion strong +and violent as thine!—Oh! summon all that us’d to be more than Man +about thee, to suffer to the End of my Discourse, which nothing but a +Resolution like thine can bear! I know it by myself.—Tho’ +there be Wounds, Horror, and Death in each Syllable (interrupted +<i>Antonio</i>) yet prithee now go on, but with all Haste. I will, +(returned Don <i>Henrique</i>) tho’ I feel my own Words have the +same cruel Effects on me. +<span class = "pagenum">339</span> +I say, again, my Soul loves <i>Ardelia</i>: And how can it be otherwise? +Have we not both the self-same Appetites, the same Disgusts? How then +could I avoid my Destiny, that has decreed that I should love and hate +just as you do? Oh, hard Necessity! that obliged you to use me in the +Recovery of this Lady! Alas, can you think that any Man of Sense or +Passion could have seen, and not have lov’d her! Then how should I, +whose Thoughts are Unisons to yours, evade those Charms that had +prevail’d on you?—And now, to let you know, ’tis no Illusion, no +Sport, but serious and amazing woeful Truth, <i>Ardelia</i> best can +tell you whom she loves. What I have already said, is true, by Heaven +(cry’d she) ’tis you, Don <i>Henrique</i>, whom I only love, and who +alone can give me Happiness: Ah, would you would!—With you, +<i>Antonio</i>, I must remain unhappy, wretched, cursed: Thou art my +Hell; Don <i>Henrique</i> is my Heaven. And thou art mine, +(returned he) which here I part with to my dearest Friend. Then +taking her Hand, Pardon me, <i>Antonio</i>, (pursued he) that I +thus take my last Farewel of all the Tastes of Bliss from your +<i>Ardelia</i>, at this Moment. [At which Words he kiss’d her Hand, and +gave it to Don <i>Antonio</i>; who received it, and gently pressed it +close to his Heart, as if he would have her feel the Disorders she had +caus’d there.] Be happy, <i>Antonio</i>, (cry’d <i>Henrique</i>:) Be +very tender of her; To-morrow early I shall hope to see +thee.—<i>Ardelia</i> (pursued he) All Happiness and Joy +surround thee! May’st thou ne’er want those Blessings thou can’st give +<i>Antonio</i>!—Farewel to both! (added he, going out.) Ah (cry’d +she) Farewel to all Joys, Blessings, Happiness, if you forsake +me.—Yet do not go!—Ah, cruel! (continu’d she, seeing him +quit the Room) but you shall take my Soul with you. Here she swooned +away in Don <i>Antonio’s</i> Arms; who, though he was happy that he had +her fast there, yet was obliged to call in his Cousin, and +<i>Ardelia’s</i> Attendants, e’er she could be perfectly recovered. In +the mean while Don +<span class = "pagenum">340</span> +<i>Henrique</i> had not the Power to go out of Sight of the House, but +wandred to and fro about it, distracted in his Soul; and not being able +longer to refrain her Sight, her last Words still resounding in his +Ears, he came again into the Room where he left her with Don +<i>Antonio</i>, just as she revived, and called him, exclaiming on his +Cruelty, in leaving her so soon. But when, turning her Eyes towards the +Door, she saw him; Oh! with what eager Haste she flew to him! then +clasped him round the Waist, obliging him, with all the tender +Expressions that the Soul of a Lover, and a Woman’s too, is capable of +uttering, not to leave her in the Possession of Don <i>Antonio</i>. This +so amaz’d her slighted Lover, that he knew not, at first, how to proceed +in this tormenting Scene; but at last, summoning all his wonted +Resolution, and Strength of Mind, he told her, He would put her out of +his Power, if she would consent to retreat for some few Hours to a +Nunnery that was not above half a Mile distant from thence, till he had +discoursed his Friend, Don <i>Henrique</i> something more particularly +than hitherto, about this Matter: To which she readily agreed, upon the +Promise that Don <i>Henrique</i> made her, of seeing her with the first +Opportunity. They waited on her then to the Convent, where she was +kindly and respectfully received by the Lady Abbess; but it was not long +before her Grief renewing with greater Violence, and more afflicting +Circumstances, had obliged them to stay with her till it was almost +dark, when they once more begged the Liberty of an Hour’s Absence; and +the better to palliate their Design, <i>Henrique</i> told her, that he +would make use of her Father Don <i>Richardo’s</i> Coach, in which they +came to Don <i>Antonio’s</i>, for so small a Time: which they did, +leaving only <i>Eleonora</i> her Attendant with her, <ins class = +"correction" title = "spelling unchanged: elsewhere ‘without’ as one word">with out</ins> +whom she had been at a Loss, among so many fair +Strangers; Strangers, I mean, to her unhappy Circumstances: Whilst +they were carry’d near a Mile farther, where, just as ’twas dark, they +lighted from the Coach, +<span class = "pagenum">341</span> +Don <i>Henrique</i>, ordering the Servants not to stir thence till their +Return from their private Walk, which was about a Furlong, in a Field +that belong’d to the Convent. Here Don <i>Antonio</i> told Don +<i>Henrique</i>, That he had not acted honourably; That he had betray’d +him, and robb’d him at once both of a Friend and Mistress. To which +t’other returned, That he understood his Meaning, when he proposed a +particular Discourse about this Affair, which he now perceived must end +in Blood: But you may remind your self (continued he) that I have +kept my Promise in delivering her to you. Yes, (cry’d <i>Antonio</i>) +after you had practis’d foully and basely on her. Not at all! (returned +<i>Henrique</i>) It was her Fate that brought this Mischief on her; for +I urged the Shame and Scandal of Inconstancy, but all in vain, to her. +But don’t you love her, <i>Henrique</i>? (the other ask’d.) Too well, +and cannot live without her, though I fear I may feel the cursed Effects +of the same Inconstancy: However, I had quitted her all to you, but +you see how she resents it. And you shall see, Sir, (cry’d +<i>Antonio</i>, drawing his Sword in a Rage) how I resent it. Here, +without more Words, they fell to Action; to bloody Action. (Ah! how +wretched are our Sex, in being the unhappy Occasion of so many fatal +Mischiefs, even between the dearest Friends!) They fought on each Side +with the greatest Animosity of Rivals, forgetting all the sacred Bonds +of their former Friendship; till Don <i>Antonio</i> fell, and said, +dying, ‘Forgive me, <i>Henrique</i>! I was to blame; I could not +live without her:—I fear she will betray thy Life, which +haste and preserve, for my sake—Let me not die all at +once!—Heaven pardon both of us!—Farewel! Oh, haste! Farewel! +(<i>returned Don <em>Henrique</em></i>) Farewel, thou bravest, truest +Friend! Farewel thou noblest Part of me!—And Farewel all the Quiet +of my Soul.’ Then stooping, he kissed his Cheek; but, rising, he found +he must retire in time, or else must perish through Loss of Blood, for +he had received two or three dangerous +<span class = "pagenum">342</span> +Wounds, besides others of less Consequence: Wherefore he made all the +convenient Haste he could to the Coach, into which, by the Help of the +Footmen, he got, and order’d ’em to drive him directly to Don +<i>Richardo’s</i> with all imaginable Speed; where he arriv’d in little +more than half an Hour’s Time, and was received by <i>Ardelia’s</i> +Father with the greatest Confusion and Amazement that is expressible, +seeing him return’d without his Daughter, and so desperately wounded. +Before he thought it convenient to ask him any Question more than to +enquire of his Daughter’s Safety, to which he receiv’d a short but +satisfactory Answer, Don <i>Richardo</i> sent for an eminent and able +Surgeon, who probed and dress’d Don <i>Henrique’s</i> Wounds, who was +immediately put to Bed; not without some Despondency of his Recovery; +but (thanks to his kind Stars, and kinder Constitution!) he rested +pretty well for some Hours that Night, and early in the Morning, +<i>Ardelia’s</i> Father, who had scarce taken any Rest all that Night, +came to visit him, as soon as he understood from the Servants who +watched with him, that he was in a Condition to suffer a short +Discourse; which, you may be sure, was to learn the Circumstances of the +past Night’s Adventure; of which Don <i>Henrique</i> gave him a perfect +and pleasant Account, since he heard that Don <i>Antonio</i>, his mortal +Enemy, was killed; the Assurance of whose Death was the more delightful +to him, since, by this Relation, he found that <i>Antonio</i> was the +Man, whom his Care of his Daughter had so often frustrated. Don +<i>Henrique</i> had hardly made an End of his Narration, e’er a Servant +came hastily to give <i>Richardo</i> Notice, that the Officers were come +to search for his Son-in-Law that should have been; whom the Old +Gentleman’s wise Precaution had secured in a Room so unsuspected, that +they might as reasonably have imagined the entire Walls of his House had +a Door made of Stones, as that there should have been one to that close +Apartment: He went therefore boldly +<span class = "pagenum">343</span> +to the Officers, and gave them all the Keys of his House, with free +Liberty to examine every Room and Chamber; which they did, but to no +Purpose; and Don <i>Henrique</i> lay there undiscover’d, till his Cure +was perfected.</p> + +<p>In the mean time <i>Ardelia</i>, who that fatal Night but too rightly +guess’d that the Death of one or both her Lovers was the Cause that they +did not return to their Promise, the next Day fell into a high Fever, in +which her Father found her soon after he had clear’d himself of those +who come to search for a Lover. The Assurance which her Father gave her +of <i>Henrique’s</i> Life, seemed a little to revive her; but the +Severity of <i>Antonio’s</i> Fate was no Way obliging to her, since she +could not but retain the Memory of his Love and Constancy; which added +to her Afflictions, and heightned her Distemper, insomuch that +<i>Richardo</i> was constrain’d to leave her under the Care of the good +Lady Abbess, and to the diligent Attendance of <i>Eleonora</i>, not +daring to hazard her Life in a Removal to his own House. All their Care +and Diligence was however ineffectual; for she languished even to the +least Hope of Recovery, till immediately after the first Visit of Don +<i>Henrique</i>, which was the first he made in a Month’s Time, and that +by Night <i>incognito</i>, with her Father, her Distemper visibly +retreated each Day: Yet when at last she enjoy’d a perfect Health of +Body, her Mind grew sick, and she plunged into a deep Melancholy; which +made her entertain a positive Resolution of taking the Veil at the End +of her Novitiate; which accordingly she did, notwith­standing all +the Intreaties, Prayers, and Tears both of her Father and Lover. But she +soon repented her Vow, and often wish’d that she might by any Means see +and speak to Don <i>Henrique</i>, by whose Help she promised to her self +a Deliverance out of her voluntary Imprisonment: Nor were his Wishes +wanting to the same Effect, tho’ he was forced to fly into <i>Italy</i>, +to avoid the Prosecution of <i>Antonio’s</i> Friends. Thither she +pursu’d him; nor could he any way +<span class = "pagenum">344</span> +shun her, unless he could have left his Heart at a Distance from his +Body: Which made him take a fatal Resolution of returning to +<i>Seville</i> in Disguise, where he wander’d about the Convent every +Night like a Ghost (for indeed his Soul was within, while his inanimate +Trunk was without) till at last he found Means to convey a Letter to +her, which both surprized and delighted her. The Messenger that brought +it her was one of her Mother-in-Law’s Maids, whom he had known before, +and met accidentally one Night as he was going his Rounds, and she +coming out from <i>Ardelia</i>; with her he prevail’d, and with Gold +obliged her to Secrecy and Assistance: Which proved so successful, that +he understood from <i>Ardelia</i> her strong Desire of Liberty, and the +Continuance of her Passion for him, together with the Means and Time +most convenient and likely to succeed for her Enlargement. The Time was +the fourteenth Night following, at twelve o’Clock, which just compleated +a Month since his Return thither; at which Time they both promised +themselves the greatest Happiness on Earth. But you may observe the +Justice of Heaven, in their Disappointment.</p> + +<p>Don <i>Sebastian</i>, who still pursu’d him with a most implacable +Hatred, had traced him even to <i>Italy</i>, and there narrowly missing +him, posted after him to <i>Toledo</i>; so sure and secret was his +Intelligence! As soon as he arriv’d, he went directly to the Convent +where his Sister <i>Elvira</i> had been one of the Profess’d, ever since +Don <i>Henrique</i> had forsaken her, and where <i>Ardelia</i> had taken +her repented Vow. <i>Elvira</i> had all along conceal’d the Occasion of +her coming thither from <i>Ardelia</i>; and tho’ she was her only +Confident, and knew the whole Story of her Misfortunes, and heard the +Name of Don <i>Henrique</i> repeated a hundred Times a Day, whom still +she lov’d most perfectly, yet never gave her beautiful Rival any Cause +of Suspicion that she lov’d him, either by Words or Looks: Nay more, +when she understood that Don <i>Henrique</i> came to the Convent +<span class = "pagenum">345</span> +with <i>Ardelia</i> and <i>Antonio</i>, and at other Times with her +Father; yet she had so great a Command of her self, as to refrain seeing +him, or to be seen by him; nor ever intended to have spoken or writ to +him, had not her Brother Don <i>Sebastian</i> put her upon the cruel +Necessity of doing the last; who coming to visit his Sister (as I +have said before) found her with Dona <i>Ardelia</i>, whom he never +remembred to have seen, nor who ever had seen him but twice, and that +was about six Years before, when she was but ten Years of Age, when she +fell <ins class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘passsionately’">passionately</ins> +in Love with him, and continu’d her +Passion till about the fourteenth Year of her Empire, when unfortunate +<i>Antonio</i> first began his Court to her. Don <i>Sebastian</i> was +really a very desirable Person, being at that time very beautiful, his +Age not exceeding six and twenty, of a sweet Conversation, very brave, +but revengeful and irreconcilable (like most of his Countrymen) and of +an honourable Family. At the Sight of him <i>Ardelia</i> felt her former +Passion renew; which proceeded and continued with such Violence, that it +utterly defac’d the Ideas of <i>Antonio</i> and <i>Henrique</i>. +(No Wonder that she who could resolve to forsake her God for Man, +should quit one Lover for another.) In short, she then only wished that +he might love her equally, and then she doubted not of contriving the +Means of their Happiness betwixt ’em. She had her Wish, and more, if +possible; for he lov’d her beyond the Thought of any other present or +future Blessing, and fail’d not to let her know it, at the second +Interview; when he receiv’d the greatest Pleasure he could have wish’d, +next to the Joys of a Bridal Bed: For she confessed her Love to him, and +presently put him upon thinking on the Means of her Escape; but not +finding his Designs so likely to succeed, as those Measures she had sent +to Don <i>Henrique</i>, she communicates the very same to Don +<i>Sebastian</i>, and agreed with him to make use of them on that very +Night, wherein she had obliged Don <i>Henrique</i> to attempt her +Deliverance: The Hour indeed +<span class = "pagenum">346</span> +was different, being determined to be at eleven. <i>Elvira</i>, who was +present at the Conference, took the Hint; and not being willing to +disoblige a Brother who had so hazarded his Life in Vindication of her, +either does not, or would not seem to oppose his Inclinations at that +Time: However, when he retired with her to talk more particularly of his +intended Revenge on Don <i>Henrique</i>, who he told her lay somewhere +absconded in <i>Toledo</i>, and whom he had resolved, as he assured her, +to sacrifice to her injur’d Honour, and his Resentments; she oppos’d +that his vindictive Resolution with all the forcible Arguments in a +virtuous and pious Lady’s Capacity, but in vain: so that immediately +upon his Retreat from the Convent, she took the Opportunity of writing +to Don <i>Henrique</i> as follows, the fatal Hour not being then seven +Nights distant.</p> + +<p class = "salutation"> +Don <i>Henrique</i>,</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">My</span> Brother is now in Town, in Pursuit +of your Life; nay more, of your Mistress, who has consented to make her +Escape from the Convent, at the same Place of it, and by the same Means +on which she had agreed to give her self entirely to you, but the Hour +is eleven. I know, <em>Henrique</em>, your <em>Ardelia</em> is +dearer to you than your Life: But your Life, your dear Life, is more +desired than any Thing in this World, by</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your injur’d and forsaken</p> + +<p class = "right"> +<i>ELVIRA</i>.</p> + +<p>This she delivered to <i>Richardo’s</i> Servant, whom <i>Henrique</i> +had gained that Night, as soon as she came to visit <i>Ardelia</i>, at +her usual Hour, just as she went out of the Cloister.</p> + +<p>Don <i>Henrique</i> was not a little surprized with this +<i>Billet</i>; however, he could hardly resolve to forbear his +accustom’d Visits to <i>Ardelia</i>, at first: But upon more mature +Consideration, he only chose to converse with her by Letters, which +still press’d her to be mindful of her Promise, and +<span class = "pagenum">347</span> +of the Hour, not taking notice of any Caution that he had received of +her Treachery. To which she still return’d in Words that might assure +him of her Constancy.</p> + +<p>The dreadful Hour wanted not a Quarter of being perfect, when Don +<i>Henrique</i> came; and having fixed his Rope-Ladder to that Part of +the Garden-Wall, where he was expected, <i>Ardelia</i>, who had not +stir’d from that very Place for a Quarter of an Hour before, prepar’d to +ascend by it; which she did, as soon as his Servant had returned and +fixed it on the inner-side of the Wall: On the Top of which, at a little +Distance, she found another fasten’d, for her to descend on the +out-side, whilst Don <i>Henrique</i> eagerly waited to receive her. She +came at last, and flew into his Arms; which made <i>Henrique</i> cry out +in a Rapture, <i>Am I at last once more happy in having my +<em>Ardelia</em> in my Possession!</i> She, who knew his Voice, and now +found she was betray’d, but knew not by whom, shriek’d out, <i>I am +ruined! help! help!</i>—<i>Loose me, I charge you, +<em>Henrique!</em> Loose me!</i> At that very Moment, and at those very +Words, came <i>Sebastian</i>, attended by only one Servant; and hearing +<i>Henrique</i> reply, <i>Not all the Powers of Hell shall snatch you +from me</i>, drawing his Sword, without one Word, made a furious Pass at +him: But his Rage and Haste misguided his Arm, for his Sword went quite +through <i>Ardelia’s</i> Body, who only said, <i>Ah, wretched Maid!</i> +and drop’d from <i>Henrique’s</i> Arms, who then was obliged to quit +her, to preserve his own Life, if possible: however he had not had so +much Time as to draw, had not <i>Sebastian</i> been amazed at this +dreadful Mistake of his Sword; but presently recollecting himself, he +flew with redoubled Rage to attack <i>Henrique</i>; and his Servant had +seconded him, had not <i>Henrique’s</i>, who was now descended, +otherwise diverted him. They fought with the greatest Animosity on both +Sides, and with equal Advantage; for they both fell together: <i>Ah, my +<em>Ardelia</em>, I come to thee now!</i> (<i>Sebastian</i> groan’d +out,)—<i>’Twas this unlucky Arm, which now embraces +<span class = "pagenum">348</span> +thee, that killed thee. Just Heaven!</i> (she sigh’d out,)—<i>Oh, +yet have Mercy!</i> [Here they both dy’d.] <i>Amen</i>, (cry’d +<i>Henrique</i>, dying) <i>I want it most</i>— <i>Oh, +<em>Antonio</em>! Oh, <em>Elvira</em>! Ah, there’s the Weight that sinks +me down.</i>—<i>And yet I wish Forgiveness.</i>—<i>Once +more, sweet Heaven, have Mercy!</i> He could not out-live that last +Word; which was echo’d by <i>Elvira</i>, who all this while stood +weeping, and calling out for Help, as she stood close to the Wall in the +Garden.</p> + +<p>This alarmed the Rest of the Sisters, who rising, caus’d the Bell to +be rung out, as upon dangerous Occasions it used to be; which rais’d the +Neighbourhood, who came time enough to remove the dead Bodies of the two +Rivals, and of the late fallen Angel <i>Ardelia</i>. The injur’d and +neglected <i>Elvira</i>, whose Piety designed quite contrary Effects, +was immediately seiz’d with a violent Fever; which, as it was violent, +did not last long: for she dy’d within four and twenty Hours, with all +the happy Symptoms of a departing Saint.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">349</span> +<a name = "lucky" id = "lucky"> </a> + + +<h3>THE LUCKY MISTAKE.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">351</span> + +<h4><a class = "comm" name = "lucky_dedic" id = "lucky_dedic" href = +"#lucky_comm1"> +TO GEORGE GREENVIEL, ESQ;</a></h4> + +<p>Sir,</p> + +<p>At this Critical Juncture, I find the Authors will have need of a +Protector, as well as the Nation, we having peculiar Laws and Liberties +to be defended as well as that, but of how different a Nature, none but +such Judges as you are fit to determine; whatever our Province be, +I am sure it should be Wit, and you know what Ellevated <i>Ben</i> +says, <i>That none can judge of Wit but Wit.</i> Let the <i>Heroes</i> +toyl for Crowns and Kingdoms and with what pretences they please. Let +the Slaves of State drudge on for false and empty Glories, troubling the +repose of the World and ruining their own to gain uneasy Grandure, +whilst you, oh! happyer Sir, great enough by your Birth, yet more +Illustrious by your Wit, are capable of enjoying alone that true +Felicity of Mind, which belongs to an absolutely Vertuous and Gallant +Man, by that, and the lively Notions of Honour Imprinted in your Soul, +you are above Ambition, and can Form <i>Kings</i> and <i>Heroes</i>, +when ’ere your delicate Fancy shall put you upon the Poetical +Creation.</p> + +<p>You can make those <i>Heroes</i> Lovers too, and inspire ’em with a +Language so Irresistable as may instruct the Fair, how easily you may +Conquer when it comes to your turn, to plead for a Heart, nor is your +delicate Wit the only Charm; your Person claims an equal share of Graces +with those of your Mind, and both together are capable of rendering you +Victorious, whereever you shall please to Address ’em, but your Vertue +keeps you from those Ravages of Beauty, which so wholly imploy the hours +of the Rest of the Gay and Young, whilst you have business more sollid, +and more noble for yours.</p> + +<p>I would not by this have the World imagine you are therefore exempt +from the tenderness of Love, it rather seems you were on purpose form’d +for that Soft Entertainment, such an Agreement there is between the +Harmony of your Soul and your Person, and sure the <i>Muses</i> who have +so divinely inspir’d you with Poetic Fires, have furnisht you with that +Necessary Material (Love) to maintain it, and to make it burn with the +more Ellevated Flame.</p> + +<p>’Tis therefore, Sir, I expect you will the more easily Pardon the +Dedicating to your idler hours (if any such you have) this little +Amour, all that I shall say for it, is, that ’tis not Translation but an +Original, that has more of realty than fiction, if I have not made it +fuller of intreague, ’twas because I had a mind to keep close to the +Truth.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">352</span> +<p>I must own, Sir, the Obligations I have to you, deserves a greater +testimony of my respect, than this little piece, too trivial to bear the +honour of your Name, but my increasing Indisposition makes me fear I +shall not have many opportunities of this Kind, and shou’d be loath to +leave this ungrateful World, without acknowledging my Gratitude more +signally than barely by word of Mouth, and without wishing you all the +happiness your merit and admirable Vertues deserve and of assuring you +how unfeignedly I am (and how Proud of being) Sir,</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your most obliged and<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>most humble servant<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>A. Behn.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">353</span> + +<h4><a name = "lucky_main" id = "lucky_main"> +THE LUCKY MISTAKE:</a><br> +<span class = "smallcaps">A New Novel.</span></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">The</span> River <i>Loyre</i> has on its +delightful Banks abundance of handsome, beautiful and rich Towns and +Villages, to which the noble Stream adds no small Graces and Advantages, +blessing their Fields with Plenty, and their Eyes with a thousand +Diversions. In one of these happily situated Towns, called +<i>Orleans</i>, where abundance of People of the best Quality and +Condition reside, there was a rich Nobleman, now retir’d from the busy +Court, where in his Youth he had been bred, weary’d with the Toils of +Ceremony and Noise, to enjoy that perfect Tranquillity of Life, which is +no where to be found but in Retreat, a faithful Friend, and a good +Library; and, as the admirable <i>Horace</i> says, in a little House and +a large Garden. Count <i>Bellyaurd</i>, for so was this Nobleman call’d, +was of this Opinion; and the rather, because he had one only Son, called +<i>Rinaldo</i>, now grown to the Age of fifteen, who having all the +excellent Qualities and Graces of Youth by Nature, he would bring him up +in all Virtues and noble Sciences, which he believ’d the Gaiety and +Lustre of the Court might divert: he therefore in his Retirement spar’d +no Cost to those that could instruct and accomplish him; and he had the +best Tutors and Masters that could be purchased at Court: +<i>Bellyaurd</i> making far less Account of Riches than of fine Parts. +He found his Son capable of all Impressions, having a Wit suitable to +his delicate Person, so that he was the sole Joy of his Life, and the +Darling of his Eyes.</p> + +<p>In the very next House, which join’d close to that of +<i>Bellyaurd’s</i>, there lived another Count, who had in his Youth been +banished the Court of <i>France</i> for some +<span class = "pagenum">354</span> +Misunderstandings in some high Affairs wherein he was concern’d: his +Name was <i>De Pais</i>, a Man of great Birth, but of no Fortune; +or at least one not suitable to the Grandeur of his Original. And as it +is most natural for great Souls to be most proud (if I may call a +handsome Disdain by that vulgar Name) when they are most depress’d; so +<i>De Pais</i> was more retir’d, more estrang’d from his Neighbours, and +kept a greater Distance, than if he had enjoy’d all he had lost at +Court; and took more Solemnity and State upon him, because he would not +be subject to the Reproaches of the World, by making himself familiar +with it: So that he rarely visited; and, contrary to the Custom of those +in <i>France</i>, who are easy of Access, and free of Conversation, he +kept his Family retir’d so close, that ’twas rare to see any of them; +and when they went abroad, which was but seldom, they wanted nothing as +to outward Appearance, that was fit for his Quality, and what was much +above his Condition.</p> + +<p>This old Count had two only Daughters, of exceeding Beauty, who gave +the generous Father ten thousand Torments, as often as he beheld them, +when he consider’d their extreme Beauty, their fine Wit, their +Innocence, Modesty, and above all their Birth; and that he had not a +Fortune to marry them according to their Quality; and below it, he had +rather see them laid in their silent Graves, than consent to it: for he +scorn’d the World should see him forced by his Poverty to commit an +Action below his Dignity.</p> + +<p>There lived in a neighbouring Town, a certain Nobleman, Friend to +<i>De Pais</i>, call’d Count <i>Vernole</i>, a Man of about forty +years of Age, of low Stature, Complexion very black and swarthy, lean, +lame, extreme proud and haughty; extracted of a Descent from the +Blood-Royal; not extremely brave, but very glorious: he had no very +great Estate, but was in Election of a greater, and of an Addition of +Honour from the King, his Father having done most +<span class = "pagenum">355</span> +worthy Services against the <i>Hugonots</i>, and by the high Favour of +Cardinal <i>Mazarine</i>, was represented to his Majesty, as a Man +related to the Crown, of great Name, but small Estate: so that there +were now nothing but great Expectations and Preparations in the Family +of Count <i>Vernole</i> to go to the Court, to which he daily hoped an +Invitation or Command.</p> + +<p><i>Vernole’s</i> Fortune being hitherto something a-kin to that of +<i>De Pais</i>, there was a greater Correspondency between these two +Gentlemen, than they had with any other Persons; they accounting +themselves above the rest of the World, believed none so proper and fit +for their Conversation, as that of each other: so that there was a very +particular Intimacy between them. Whenever they went abroad, they +clubb’d their Train, to make one great Show; and were always together, +bemoaning each other’s Fortune, and that from so high a Descent, as one +from Monarchs by the Mother’s side, and the other from Dukes of the +Father’s Side, they were reduc’d by Fate to the Degree of private +Gentlemen. They would often consult how to manage Affairs most to +Advantage, and often <i>De Pais</i> would ask Counsel of <i>Vernole</i>, +how best he should dispose of his Daughters, which now were about their +ninth Year the eldest, and eighth the youngest. <i>Vernole</i> had often +seen those two Buds of Beauty, and already saw opening in +<i>Atlante’s</i> Face and Mind (for that was the Name of the eldest, and +<i>Charlot</i> the youngest) a Glory of Wit and Beauty, which could +not but one Day display it self, with dazling Lustre, to the wondring +World.</p> + +<p><i>Vernole</i> was a great Virtuoso, of a Humour nice, delicate, +critical and opinionative: he had nothing of the <i>French</i> Mein in +him, but all the Gravity of the Don. His ill-favour’d Person, and his +low Estate, put him out of Humour with the World; and because that +should not upbraid or reproach his Follies and Defects, he was sure to +be beforehand with that, and to be always satirick upon it; and +<span class = "pagenum">356</span> +lov’d to live and act contrary to the Custom and Usage of all Mankind +besides.</p> + +<p>He was infinitely delighted to find a Man of his own Humour in <i>De +Pais</i>, or at least a Man that would be persuaded to like his so well, +to live up to it; and it was no little Joy and Satisfaction to him to +find, that he kept his Daughters in that Severity, which was wholly +agreeable to him, and so contrary to the Manner and Fashion of the +<i>French</i> Quality; who allow all Freedoms, which to <i>Vernole’s</i> +rigid Nature, seem’d as so many Steps to Vice, and in his Opinion, the +Ruiner of all Virtue and Honour in Womankind. <i>De Pais</i> was +extremely glad his Conduct was so well interpreted, which was no other +in him than a proud Frugality; who, because they could not appear in so +much Gallantry as their Quality required, kept ’em retir’d, and unseen +to all, but his particular Friends, of whom <i>Vernole</i> was the +chief.</p> + +<p><i>Vernole</i> never appear’d before <i>Atlante</i> (which was +seldom) but he assum’d a Gravity and Respect fit to have entertain’d a +Maid of Twenty, or rather a Matron of much greater Years and Judgment. +His Discourses were always of Matters of State or Philosophy; and +sometimes when <i>De Pais</i> would (laughing) say, ‘He might as well +entertain <i>Atlante</i> with <i>Greek</i> and <i>Hebrew</i>,’ he would +reply gravely, ‘You are mistaken, Sir, I <ins class = "correction" +title = "text reads ‘finds’">find</ins> the Seeds of great and profound +Matter in the Soul of this young Maid, which ought to be nourish’d now +while she is young, and they will grow up to very great Perfection: +I find <i>Atlante</i> capable of the noble Virtues of the Mind, and +am infinitely mistaken in my Observations, and Art of Physiognomy, if +<i>Atlante</i> be not born for greater Things than her Fortune does now +Promise: She will be very considerable in the World, (believe me) +and this will arrive to her perfectly from the Force of her Charms.’ +<i>De Pais</i> was extremely overjoy’d to hear such Good prophesied of +<i>Atlante</i>, and from that Time set a sort of an Esteem upon her, +which +<span class = "pagenum">357</span> +he did not on <i>Charlot</i> his younger; whom, by the Persuasions of +<i>Vernole</i>, he resolv’d to put in a Monastery, that what he had +might descend to <i>Atlante</i>: not but he confess’d <i>Charlot</i> had +Beauty extremely attractive, and a Wit that promised much, when it +should be cultivated by Years and Experience; and would shew it self +with great Advantage and Lustre in a Monastery. All this pleased <i>De +Pais</i> very well, who was easily persuaded, since he had not a Fortune +to marry her well in the World.</p> + +<p>As yet <i>Vernole</i> had never spoke to <i>Atlante</i> of Love, nor +did his Gravity think it Prudence to discover his Heart to so young a +Maid; he waited her more sensible Years, when he could hope to have some +Return. And all he expected from this her tender Age, was by his daily +Converse with her, and the Presents he made her suitable to her Years, +to ingratiate himself insensibly into her Friendship and Esteem, since +she was not yet capable of Love; but even in that he mistook his Aim, +for every day he grew more and more disagreeable to <i>Atlante</i>, and +would have been her absolute Aversion, had she known she had every Day +entertained a Lover; but as she grew in Years and Sense, he seemed the +more despicable in her Eyes as to his Person; yet as she had respect to +his Parts and Qualities, she paid him all the Complaisance she could, +and which was due to him, and so must be confess’d. Tho’ he had a stiff +Formality in all he said and did, yet he had Wit and Learning, and was a +great Philosopher. As much of his Learning as <i>Atlante</i> was capable +of attaining to, he made her Mistress of, and that was no small Portion; +for all his Discourse was fine and easily comprehended, his Notions of +Philosophy fit for Ladies; and he took greater Pains with +<i>Atlante</i>, than any Master would have done with a Scholar: So that +it was most certain, he added very great Accomplishment to her natural +Wit: and the more, because she took a great Delight in Philosophy; which +very often made her +<span class = "pagenum">358</span> +impatient of his Coming, especially when she had many Questions to ask +him concerning it, and she would often receive him with a Pleasure in +her Face, which he did not fail to interpret to his own Advantage, being +very apt to flatter himself. Her Sister <i>Charlot</i> would often ask +her, ‘How she could give whole Afternoons to so disagreeable a Man. What +is it (said she) that charms you so? his tawny Leather-Face, his +extraordinary high Nose, his wide Mouth and Eye-brows, that hang +low’ring over his Eyes, his lean Carcase, and his lame and halting +Hips?’ But <i>Atlante</i> would discreetly reply, ‘If I must grant all +you say of Count <i>Vernole</i> to be true, yet he has a Wit and +Learning that will atone sufficiently for all those Faults you mention: +A fine Soul is infinitely to be preferr’d to a fine Body; this +decays, but that’s eternal; and Age that ruins one, refines the other.’ +Tho’ possibly <i>Atlante</i> thought as ill of the Count as her Sister, +yet in Respect to him, she would not own it.</p> + +<p><i>Atlante</i> was now arriv’d to her thirteenth Year, when her +Beauty, which every Day increas’d, became the Discourse of the whole +Town, which had already gain’d her as many Lovers as had beheld her; for +none saw her without languishing for her, or at least, but what were in +very great Admiration of her. Every body talk’d of the young +<i>Atlante</i>, and all the Noblemen, who had Sons (knowing the +Smallness of her Fortune, and the Lustre of her Beauty) would send them, +for fear of their being charm’d with her Beauty, either to some other +part of the World, or exhorted them, by way of Precaution, to keep out +of her Sight. Old <i>Bellyaurd</i> was one of those wise Parents; and +timely Prevention, as he thought, of <i>Rinaldo’s</i> falling in Love +with <i>Atlante</i>, perhaps was the Occasion of his being so: He had +before heard of <i>Atlante</i>, and of her Beauty, yet it had made no +Impressions on his Heart; but his Father no sooner forbid him Loving, +than he felt a new Desire tormenting him, of seeing this lovely and +dangerous young +<span class = "pagenum">359</span> +Person: he wonders at his unaccountable Pain, which daily sollicits him +within, to go where he may behold this Beauty; of whom he frames a +thousand Ideas, all such as were most agreeable to him; but then +upbraids his Fancy for not forming her half so delicate as she was; and +longs yet more to see her, to know how near she approaches to the +Picture he has drawn of her in his Mind: and tho’ he knew she liv’d the +next House to him, yet he knew also she was kept within like a vow’d +<i>Nun</i>, or with the Severity of a <i>Spaniard</i>. And tho’ he had a +Chamber, which had a jutting Window, that look’d just upon the Door of +Monsieur <i>De Pais</i>, and that he would watch many Hours at a time, +in hope to see them go out, yet he could never get a Glimpse of her; yet +he heard she often frequented the Church of <i>our Lady</i>. Thither +then young <i>Rinaldo</i> resolv’d to go, and did so two or three +Mornings; in which time, to his unspeakable Grief, he saw no Beauty +appear that charm’d him; and yet he fancy’d that <i>Atlante</i> was +there, and that he had seen her; that some one of those young Ladies +that he saw in the Church was she, tho’ he had no body to enquire of, +and that she was not so fair as the World reported; for which he would +often sigh, as if he had lost some great Expectation. However, he ceased +not to frequent this Church, and one day saw a young Beauty, who at +first glimpse made his Heart leap to his Mouth, and fall a trembling +again into its wonted Place; for it immediately told him, that that +young Maid was <i>Atlante</i>: she was with her Sister <i>Charlot</i>, +who was very handsome, but not comparable to <i>Atlante</i>. He fix’d +his Eyes upon her as she kneel’d at the Altar; he never moved from that +charming Face as long as she remain’d there; he forgot all Devotion, but +what he paid to her; he ador’d her, he burnt and languished already for +her, and found he must possess <i>Atlante</i> or die. Often as he gaz’d +upon her, he saw her fair Eyes lifted up towards his, where they often +met; which she perceiving, would cast +<span class = "pagenum">360</span> +hers down into her Bosom, or on her Book, and blush as if she had done a +Fault. <i>Charlot</i> perceiv’d all the Motions of <i>Rinaldo</i>, how +he folded his Arms, how he sigh’d and gaz’d on her Sister; she took +notice of his Clothes, his Garniture, and every particular of his Dress, +as young Girls use to do; and seeing him so very handsome, and so much +better dress’d than all the young Cavaliers that were in the Church, she +was very much pleas’d with him; and could not forbear saying, in a low +Voice, to <i>Atlante</i>, ‘Look, look my Sister, what a pretty Monsieur +yonder is! see how fine his Face is, how delicate his Hair, how gallant +his Dress! and do but look how he gazes on you!’ This would make +<i>Atlante</i> blush anew, who durst not raise her Eyes for fear she +should encounter his. While he had the Pleasure to imagine they were +talking of him, and he saw in the pretty Face of <i>Charlot</i>, that +what she said was not to his Disadvantage, and by the Blushes of +<i>Atlante</i>, that she was not displeas’d with what was spoken to her; +he perceiv’d the young one importunate with her; and <i>Atlante</i> +jogging her with her Elbow, as much as to say, Hold your Peace: all this +he made a kind Interpretation of, and was transported with Joy at the +good Omens. He was willing to flatter his new Flame, and to compliment +his young Desire with a little Hope; but the divine Ceremony ceasing, +<i>Atlante</i> left the Church, and it being very fair Weather, she +walk’d home. <i>Rinaldo</i>, who saw her going, felt all the Agonies of +a Lover, who parts with all that can make him happy; and seeing only +<i>Atlante</i> attended with her Sister, and a Footman following with +their Books, he was a thousand times about to speak to ’em; but he no +sooner advanc’d a step or two towards ’em to that purpose (for he +followed them) but his Heart fail’d, and a certain Awe and Reverence, or +rather the Fears and Tremblings of a Lover, prevented him: but when he +consider’d, that possibly he might never have so favourable an +Opportunity again, he resolv’d a-new, and called up +<span class = "pagenum">361</span> +so much Courage to his Heart, as to speak to <i>Atlante</i>; but before +he did so, <i>Charlot</i> looking behind her, saw <i>Rinaldo</i> very +near to ’em, and cry’d out with a Voice of Joy, ‘Oh! Sister, Sister! +look where the handsome <i>Monsieur</i> is, just behind us! sure he is +some-body of Quality, for see he has two Footmen that follow him, in +just such Liveries, and so rich as those of our Neighbour <i>Monsieur +Bellyaurd</i>.’ At this <i>Atlante</i> could not forbear, but before she +was aware of it, turn’d her Head, and look’d on <i>Rinaldo</i>; which +encourag’d him to advance, and putting off his Hat, which he clapt under +his Arm, with a low Bow, said, ‘Ladies, you are slenderly attended, and +so many Accidents arrive to the Fair in the rude Streets, that I humbly +implore you will permit me, whose Duty it is as a Neighbour, to wait on +you to your Door.’ ‘Sir, (said <i>Atlante</i> blushing) we fear no +Insolence, and need no Protector; or if we did, we should not be so rude +to take you out of your way, to serve us.’ ‘Madam, (said he) my way +lies yours. I live at the next Door, and am Son to +<i>Bellyaurd</i>, your Neighbour. But, Madam, (added he) if I were +to go all my Life out of the way, to do you Service, I should take +it for the greatest Happiness that could arrive to me; but, Madam, sure +a Man can never be out of his Way, who has the Honour of so charming +Company.’ <i>Atlante</i> made no reply to this, but blush’d and bow’d: +But <i>Charlot</i> said, ‘Nay, Sir, if you are our Neighbour, we will +give you leave to conduct us home; but pray, Sir, how came you to know +we are your Neighbours? for we never saw you before, to our knowledge.’ +‘My pretty Miss, (reply’d <i>Rinaldo</i>) I knew it from that +transcendent Beauty that appear’d in your Faces, and fine Shapes; for I +have heard, there was no Beauty in the World like that of +<i>Atlante’s</i>; and I no sooner saw her, but my Heart told me it was +she.’ ‘Heart! (said <i>Charlot</i> laughing) why, do Hearts use to +speak?’ ‘The most intelligible of any thing, (<i>Rinaldo</i> reply’d) +when ’tis tenderly touch’d, when ’tis charm’d and +<span class = "pagenum">362</span> +transported.’ At these Words he sigh’d, and <i>Atlante</i>, to his +extreme Satisfaction, blush’d. ‘Touch’d, charm’d, and transported, (said +<i>Charlot</i>) what’s that? And how do you do to have it be all these +things? For I would give any thing in the World to have my Heart speak.’ +‘Oh! (said <i>Rinaldo</i>) your Heart is too young, it is not yet +arrived to the Years of Speaking; about thirteen or fourteen, it may +possibly be saying a thousand soft things to you; but it must be first +inspir’d by some noble Object, whose Idea it must retain.’ ‘What +(reply’d the pretty Prattler) I’ll warrant I must be in Love?’ ‘Yes, +(said <i>Rinaldo</i>) most passionately, or you will have but little +Conversation with your Heart.’ ‘Oh! (reply’d she) I am afraid the +Pleasure of such a Conversation, will not make me amends for the Pain +that Love will give me.’ ‘That (said <i>Rinaldo</i>) is according as the +Object is kind, and as you hope; if he love, and you hope, you will have +double Pleasure: And in this, how great an Advantage have fair Ladies +above us Men! ’Tis always impossible for you to love in vain, you have +your Choice of a thousand Hearts, which you have subdu’d, and may not +only chuse your Slaves, but be assur’d of ’em; without speaking, you are +belov’d, it needs not cost you a Sigh or a Tear: But unhappy Man is +often destin’d to give his Heart, where it is not regarded, to sigh, to +weep, and languish, without any hope of Pity.’ ‘You speak so feelingly, +Sir, (said <i>Charlot</i>) that I am afraid this is your Case.’ ‘Yes, +Madam, (reply’d <i>Rinaldo</i>, sighing) I am that unhappy Man.’ +‘Indeed it is pity (said she.) Pray, how long have you been so?’ ‘Ever +since I heard of the charming <i>Atlante</i>, (reply’d he, sighing +again) I ador’d her Character; but now I have seen her, I die +for her.’ ‘For me, Sir! (said <i>Atlante</i>, who had not yet spoke) +this is the common Compliment of all the young Men, who pretend to be +Lovers; and if one should pity all those Sighers, we should have but +very little left for our selves.’ ‘I believe (said <i>Rinaldo</i>) +there are none that tell you so, who do not +<span class = "pagenum">363</span> +mean as they say: Yet among all those Adorers, and those who say they +will die for you, you will find none will be so good as their Words but +<i>Rinaldo</i>.’ ‘Perhaps (said <i>Atlante</i>) of all those who tell me +of Dying, there are none that tell me of it with so little Reason as +<i>Rinaldo</i>, if that be your Name, Sir.’ ‘Madam, it is, +(said he) and who am transported with an unspeakable Joy, to hear +those last Words from your fair Mouth: and let me, Oh lovely +<i>Atlante!</i> assure you, that what I have said, are not Words of +course, but proceed from a Heart that has vow’d it self eternally yours, +even before I had the Happiness to behold this divine Person; but now +that my Eyes have made good all my Heart before imagin’d, and did but +hope, I swear, I will die a thousand Deaths, rather than +violate what I have said to you; that I adore you; that my Soul and all +my Faculties, are charm’d with your Beauty and Innocence, and that my +Life and Fortune, not inconsiderable, shall be laid at your Feet.’ This +he spoke with a Fervency of Passion, that left her no Doubt of what he +had said; yet she blush’d for Shame, and was a little angry at her self, +for suffering him to say so much to her, the very first time she saw +him, and accused her self for giving him any Encouragement: And in this +Confusion she replied, ‘Sir, you have said too much to be believ’d; and +I cannot imagine so short an Acquaintance can make so considerable an +Impression; of which Confession I accuse my self much more than you, in +that I did not only hearken to what you said, without forbidding you to +entertain me at that rate, but for unheedily speaking something, that +has encourag’d this Boldness; for so I must call it, in a Man so great a +Stranger to me.’ ‘Madam (said he) if I have offended by the +Suddenness of my presumptuous Discovery, I beseech you to consider +my Reasons for it, the few Opportunities I am like to have, and the +Impossibility of waiting on you, both from the Severity of your Father +and mine; who, ere I saw you, warn’d me +<span class = "pagenum">364</span> +of my Fate, as if he foresaw I should fall in love, as soon as I should +chance to see you; and for that Reason has kept me closer to my Studies, +than hitherto I have been. And from that time I began to feel a Flame, +which was kindled by Report alone, and the Description my Father gave of +your wondrous and dangerous Beauty: Therefore, Madam, I have not +suddenly told you of my Passion. I have been long your Lover, and +have long languish’d without telling of my Pain; and you ought to pardon +it now, since it is done with all the Respect and religious Awe, that +’tis possible for a Heart to deliver and unload it self in; therefore, +Madam, if you have by chance uttered any thing, that I have taken +Advantage or Hope from, I assure you ’tis so small, that you have +no reason to repent it; but rather, if you would have me live, send me +not from you, without a Confirmation of that little Hope. See, Madam, +(said he, more earnestly and trembling) see we are almost arriv’d at our +Homes, send me not to mine in a Despair that I cannot support with Life; +but tell me, I shall be bless’d with your Sight, sometimes in your +Balcony, which is very near to a jetting Window in our House, from +whence I have sent many a longing Look towards yours, in hope to have +seen my Soul’s Tormentor.’ ‘I shall be very unwilling (said she) to +enter into an Intrigue of Love or Friendship with a Man, whose Parents +will be averse to my Happiness, and possibly mine as refractory, tho’ +they cannot but know such an Alliance would be very considerable, my +Fortune not being suitable to yours: I tell you this, that you may +withdraw in time from an Engagement, in which I find there will be a +great many Obstacles.’ ‘Oh! Madam, (reply’d <i>Rinaldo</i>, sighing) if +my Person be not disagreeable to you, you will have no occasion to fear +the rest; ’tis that I dread, and that which is all my Fear.’ He, +sighing, beheld her with a languishing Look, that told her, he expected +her Answer; when she reply’d, ‘Sir, if that will be Satisfaction enough +for you at +<span class = "pagenum">365</span> +this time, I do assure you, I have no Aversion for your +Person, in which I find more to be valu’d, than in any I have yet seen; +and if what you say be real, and proceed from a Heart truly affected, +I find, in spite of me, you will oblige me to give you Hope.’</p> + +<p>They were come so near their own Houses, that he had not time to +return her any Answer; but with a low Bow he acknowledg’d her Bounty, +and express’d the Joy her last Words had given him, by a Look that made +her understand he was charm’d and pleas’d; and she bowing to him with an +Air of Satisfaction in her Face, he was well assur’d, there was nothing +to be seen so lovely as she then appear’d, and left her to go into her +own House: but till she was out of sight, he had not power to stir, and +then sighing, retired to his own Apartment, to think over all that had +past between them. He found nothing but what gave him a thousand Joys, +in all she had said; and he blest this happy Day, and <ins class = +"correction" title = "spelling unchanged: usual form is ‘wonder’d’">wondred</ins> +how his Stars came so kind, to make him in one +hour at once see <i>Atlante</i>, and have the happiness to know from her +Mouth, that he was not disagreeable to her: Yet with this Satisfaction, +he had a thousand Thoughts mix’d which were tormenting, and those were +the Fear of their Parents; he foresaw from what his Father had said to +him already, that it would be difficult to draw him to a Consent of his +Marriage with <i>Atlante</i>. These Joys and Fears were his Companions +all the Night, in which he took but little Rest. Nor was <i>Atlante</i> +without her Inquietudes: She found <i>Rinaldo</i> more in her Thoughts +than she wish’d, and a sudden Change of Humour, that made her know +something was the matter with her more than usual; she calls to mind +<i>Rinaldo’s</i> speaking of the Conversation with his Heart, and found +hers would be tattling to her, if she would give way to it; and yet the +more she strove to avoid it, the more it importun’d her, and in spight +of all her Resistance, would tell her, that <i>Rinaldo</i> had a +thousand Charms: It tells her, +<span class = "pagenum">366</span> +that he loves and adores her, and that she would be the most cruel of +her Sex, should she not be sensible of his Passion. She finds a thousand +Graces in his Person and Conversation, and as many Advantages in his +Fortune, which was one of the most considerable in all those Parts; for +his Estate exceeded that of the most Noble Men in <i>Orleans</i>, and +she imagines she should be the most fortunate of all Womankind in such a +Match. With these Thoughts she employ’d all the Hours of the Night; so +that she lay so long in Bed the next Day, that Count <i>Vernole</i>, who +had invited himself to Dinner, came before she had quitted her Chamber, +and she was forc’d to say, she had not been well. He had brought her a +very fine Book, newly come out, of delicate Philosophy, fit for the +Study of Ladies. But he appear’d so disagreeable to that Heart, wholly +taken up with a new and fine Object, that she could now hardly pay him +that Civility she was wont to do; while on the other side that little +State and Pride <i>Atlante</i> assum’d, made her appear the more +charming to him: so that if <i>Atlante</i> had no mind to begin a new +Lesson of Philosophy, while she fancied her Thoughts were much better +employ’d, the Count every moment expressing his Tenderness and Passion, +had as little an Inclination to instruct her, as she had to be +instructed: Love had taught her a new Lesson, and he would fain teach +her a new Lesson of Love, but fears it will be a diminishing his Gravity +and Grandeur, to open the Secrets of his Heart to so young a Maid; he +therefore thinks it more agreeable to his Quality and Years, being about +Forty, to use her Father’s Authority in this Affair, and that it was +sufficient for him to declare himself to Monsieur <i>De Pais</i>, who he +knew would be proud of the Honour he did him. Some time past, before he +could be persuaded even to declare himself to her Father: he fancies the +little Coldness and Pride he saw in <i>Atlante’s</i> Face, which was not +usual, proceeded from some Discovery of Passion, which his Eyes had +made, or now and then a +<span class = "pagenum">367</span> +Sigh, that unawares broke forth; and accuses himself of a Levity below +his Quality, and the Dignity of his Wit and Gravity; and therefore +assumes a more rigid and formal Behaviour than he was wont, which +rendred him yet more disagreeable than before; and ’twas with greater +Pain than ever, she gave him that Respect which was due to his +Quality.</p> + +<p><i>Rinaldo</i>, after a restless Night, was up very early in the +Morning; and tho’ he was not certain of seeing his adorable +<i>Atlante</i>, he dress’d himself with all that Care, as if he had been +to have waited on her, and got himself into the Window, that overlook’d +Monsieur <i>De Pais’s</i> Balcony, where he had not remain’d long, +before he saw the pretty <i>Charlot</i> come into it, not with any +design of seeing <i>Rinaldo</i>, but to look and gaze about her a +little. <i>Rinaldo</i> saw her, and made her a very low Reverence, and +found some disorder’d Joy on the sight of even <i>Charlot</i>, since she +was Sister to <i>Atlante</i>. He call’d to her, (for the Window was so +near her, he could easily be heard by her) and told her, ‘He was +infinitely indebted to her Bounty, for giving him an Opportunity +yesterday of falling on that Discourse, which had made him the happiest +Man in the World’: He said, ‘If she had not by her agreeable +Conversation encourag’d him, and drawn him from one Word to another, he +should never have had the Confidence to have told <i>Atlante</i>, how +much he ador’d her.’ ‘I am very glad, (replyed <i>Charlot</i>) that +I was the Occasion of the Beginning of an Amour, which was displeasing +to neither one nor the other; for I assure you for your Comfort, my +Sister nothing but thinks on you: We lie together, and you have taught +her already to sigh so, that I could not sleep for her.’ At this his +Face was cover’d over with a rising Joy, which his Heart could not +contain: And after some Discourse, in which this innocent Girl +discovered more than <i>Atlante</i> wish’d she should, he besought her +to become his Advocate; and since she had no Brother, to +<span class = "pagenum">368</span> +give him leave to assume that Honour, and call her Sister. Thus, by +degrees, he flatter’d her into a Consent of carrying a Letter from him +to <i>Atlante</i>; which she, who believ’d all as innocent as her self, +and being not forbid to do so, immediately consented to; when he took +his Pen and Ink, that stood in the Window, with Paper, and wrote +<i>Atlante</i> this following Letter:</p> + +<p class = "center"> +<i>RINALDO</i> to <i>ATLANTE</i>.</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">If</span> my Fate be so severe, as to deny me +the Happiness of sighing out my Pain and Passion daily at your Feet, if +there be any Faith in the Hope you were pleased to give me +(as ’twere a Sin to doubt) Oh charming <em>Atlante</em>! suffer me +not to languish, both without beholding you, and without the Blessing of +now and then a Billet, in answer to those that shall daily assure you of +my eternal Faith and Vows; ’tis all I ask, till Fortune, and our +Affairs, shall allow me the unspeakable Satisfaction of claiming you: +yet if your Charity can sometimes afford me a sight of you, either from +your Balcony in the Evening, or at a Church in the Morning, it would +save me from that Despair and Torment, which must possess a Heart so +unassur’d, as that of</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your Eternal Adorer,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span> <i>Rin. Bellyaurd</i>.</p> + +<p>He having writ and seal’d this, toss’d it into the Balcony to +<i>Charlot</i>, having first look’d about to see if none perceiv’d them. +She put it in her Bosom, and ran in to her Sister, whom by chance she +found alone; <i>Vernole</i> having taken <i>De Pais</i> into the Garden, +to discourse him concerning the sending <i>Charlot</i> to the Monastery, +which Work he desir’d to see perform’d, before he declar’d his +Intentions to <i>Atlante</i>: for among all his other good Qualities, he +was very avaricious; and as fair as <i>Atlante</i> was, he thought she +would be much fairer with the Addition of <i>Charlot’s</i> Portion. This +Affair of his with Monsieur <i>De Pais</i>, gave <i>Charlot</i> +<span class = "pagenum">369</span> +an opportunity of delivering her Letter to her Sister; who no sooner +drew it from her Bosom, but <i>Atlante’s</i> Face was covered over with +Blushes: For she imagin’d from whence it came, and had a secret Joy in +that Imagination, tho’ she thought she must put on the Severity and +Niceness of a Virgin, who would not be thought to have surrendered her +Heart with so small an Assault, and the first too. So she demanded from +whence <i>Charlot</i> had that Letter? Who replyed with Joy, ‘From the +fine young Gentleman, our Neighbour.’ At which <i>Atlante</i> assum’d +all the Gravity she could, to chide her Sister; who replied, ‘Well, +Sister, had you this day seen him, you would not have been angry to have +receiv’d a Letter from him; he look’d so handsome, and was so richly +dress’d, ten times finer than he was yesterday; and I promis’d him you +should read it: therefore, pray let me keep my Word with him; and not +only so, but carry him an Answer.’ ‘Well (said <i>Atlante</i>) to save +your Credit with Monsieur <i>Rinaldo</i>, I will read it’: Which she +did, and finish’d with a Sigh. While she was reading, <i>Charlot</i> ran +into the Garden, to see if they were not likely to be surpriz’d; and +finding the Count and her Father set in an Arbour, in deep Discourse, +she brought Pen, Ink, and Paper to her Sister, and told her, she might +write without the Fear of being disturbed: and urged her so long to what +was enough her Inclination, that she at last obtained this Answer:</p> + +<p class = "center"> +<i>ATLANTE</i> to <i>RINALDO</i>.</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword"><em>Charlot</em></span>, your little +importunate Advocate, has at last subdued me to a Consent of returning +you This. She has put me on an Affair with which I am wholly +unacquainted; and you ought to take this very kindly from me, since it +is the very first time I ever writ to one of your Sex, tho’ perhaps I +might with less Danger have done it to any other Man. I tremble +while I write, since I dread a Correspondence of this Nature, which may +insensibly draw us into an Inconvenience, and engage +<span class = "pagenum">370</span> +me beyond the Limits of that Nicety I ought to preserve: For this Way we +venture to say a thousand little kind Things, which in Conversation we +dare not do: for now none can see us blush. I am sensible I shall +this Way put my self too soon into your Power; and tho’ you have +abundance of Merit, I ought to be asham’d of confessing, I am +but too sensible of it:—But hold—I shall discover for +your Repose (which I would preserve) too much of the Heart of</p> + +<p class = "right">Atlante.</p> + +<p>She gave this Letter to <i>Charlot</i>; who immediately ran into the +Balcony with it, where she still found <i>Rinaldo</i> in a melancholy +Posture, leaning his Head on his Hand: She shewed him the Letter, but +was afraid to toss it to him, for fear it might fall to the Ground; so +he ran and fetched a long Cane, which he cleft at one End, and held it +while she put the Letter into the Cleft, and staid not to hear what he +said to it. But never was Man so transported with Joy, as he was at the +reading of this Letter; it gives him new Wounds; for to the Generous, +nothing obliges Love so much as Love: tho’ it is now too much the Nature +of that inconstant Sex, to cease to love as soon as they are sure of the +Conquest. But it was far different with our Cavalier; he was the more +inflamed, by imagining he had made some Impressions on the Heart of +<i>Atlante</i>, and kindled some Sparks there, that in time might +increase to something more; so that he now resolves to die hers: and +considering all the Obstacles that may possibly hinder his Happiness, he +found none but his Father’s Obstinacy, perhaps occasioned by the +Meanness of <i>Atlante’s</i> Fortune. To this he urged again, that he +was his only Son, and a Son whom he loved equal to his own Life; and +that certainly, as soon as he should behold him dying for +<i>Atlante</i>, which if he were forc’d to quit her he must be, he then +believed the Tenderness of so fond a Parent would break forth into Pity, +and plead within for his Consent. These were the Thoughts that flatter’d +this young Lover all +<span class = "pagenum">371</span> +the Day; and whether he were riding the Great Horse, or at his Study of +Philosophy, or Mathematicks, Singing, Dancing, or whatsoever other +Exercise his Tutors ordered, his Thoughts were continually on +<i>Atlante</i>. And now he profited no more, whatever he seem’d to do: +every Day he fail’d not to write to her by the Hand of the kind +<i>Charlot</i>; who, young as she was, had conceiv’d a great Friendship +for <i>Rinaldo</i>, and fail’d not to fetch her Letters, and bring him +Answers, such as he wish’d to receive. But all this did not satisfy our +impatient Lover; Absence kill’d, and he was no longer able to support +himself, without a sight of this adorable Maid; he therefore implores, +she will give him that Satisfaction: And she at last grants it, with a +better Will than he imagin’d. The next Day was the appointed Time, when +she would, under Pretence of going to Church, give him an Assignation: +And because all publick Places were dangerous, and might make a great +Noise, and they had no private Place to trust to, <i>Rinaldo</i>, under +Pretence of going up the River in his Pleasure-Boat, which he often did, +sent to have it made ready by the next Day at Ten of the Clock. This was +accordingly done, and he gave <i>Atlante</i> Notice of his Design of +going an Hour or two on the River in his Boat, which lay near to such a +Place, not far from the Church. She and <i>Charlot</i> came thither: and +because they durst not come out without a Footman or two, they taking +one, sent him with a <i>How-do-ye</i> to some young Ladies, and told +him, he should find them at Church: So getting rid of their Spy, they +hastened to the River-side, and found a Boat and <i>Rinaldo</i>, waiting +to carry them on board his little Vessel, which was richly adorn’d, and +a very handsome Collation ready for them, of cold Meats, Sallads and +Sweetmeats.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were come into the Pleasure-Boat, unseen of any, he +kneel’d at the Feet of <i>Atlante</i>, and there utter’d so many +passionate and tender Things to her, with a Voice so trembling and soft, +with Eyes so languishing, +<span class = "pagenum">372</span> +and a Fervency and a Fire so sincere, that her young Heart, wholly +uncapable of Artifice, could no longer resist such Language, and such +Looks of Love; she grows tender, and he perceives it in her fine Eyes, +who could not dissemble; he reads her Heart in her Looks, and found it +yielding apace; and therefore assaults it anew, with fresh Forces of +Sighs and Tears: He implores she would assure him of her Heart, which +she could no other way do, than by yielding to marry him: He would carry +her to the next Village, there consummate that Happiness, without which +he was able to live no longer; for he had a thousand Fears, that some +other Lover was, or would suddenly be provided for her; and therefore he +would make sure of her while he had this Opportunity: and to that End, +he answer’d all the Objections she could make to the contrary. But ever, +when he named Marriage, she trembled, with fear of doing something that +she fancy’d she ought not to do without the Consent of her Father. She +was sensible of the Advantage, but had been so us’d to a strict +Obedience, that she could not without Horror think of violating it; and +therefore besought him, as he valued her Repose, not to urge her to +that: And told him further, That if he fear’d any Rival, she would give +him what other Assurance and Satisfaction he pleas’d, but that of +Marriage; which she could not consent to, till she knew such an Alliance +would not be fatal to him: for she fear’d, as passionately as he lov’d +her, when he should find she had occasion’d him the Loss of his Fortune, +or his Father’s Affection, he would grow to hate her. Tho’ he answer’d +to this all that a fond Lover could urge, yet she was resolv’d, and he +forc’d to content himself with obliging her by his Prayers and +Protestations, his Sighs and Tears, to a Contract, which they solemnly +made each other, vowing on either Side, they would never marry any +other. This being solemnly concluded, he assum’d a Look more gay and +contented than before: He presented her a very rich Ring, +<span class = "pagenum">373</span> +which she durst not put on her Finger, but hid it in her Bosom. And +beholding each other now as Man and Wife, she suffer’d him all the +decent Freedoms he could wish to take; so that the Hours of this Voyage +seem’d the most soft and charming of his Life: and doubtless they were +so; every Touch of <i>Atlante</i> transported him, every Look pierced +his Soul, and he was all Raptures of Joy, when he consider’d this +charming lovely Maid was his own.</p> + +<p><i>Charlot</i> all this while was gazing above-deck, admiring the +Motion of the little Vessel, and how easily the Wind and Tide bore her +up the River. She had never been in any thing of this kind before, and +was very well pleas’d and entertain’d, when <i>Rinaldo</i> call’d her +down to eat; where they enjoy’d themselves, as well as was possible: and +<i>Charlot</i> was wondring to see such a Content in their Eyes.</p> + +<p>But now they thought it was high time for them to return; they fancy +the Footman missing them at Church, would go home and alarm their +Father, and the Knight of the Ill-favour’d Countenance, as +<i>Charlot</i> call’d Count <i>Vernole</i>, whose Severity put their +Father on a greater Restriction of them, than naturally he would do of +himself. At the Name of this Count, <i>Rinaldo</i> chang’d Colour, +fearing he might be some Rival; and ask’d <i>Atlante</i>, if this +<i>Vernole</i> was a-kin to her? She answer’d no; but was a very great +Friend to her Father, and one who from their Infancy had had a +particular Concern for their Breeding, and was her Master for +Philosophy. ‘Ah! (reply’d <i>Rinaldo</i>, sighing) this Man’s Concern +must proceed from something more than Friendship for her Father’; and +therefore conjur’d her to tell him, whether he was not a Lover: +‘A Lover! (reply’d <i>Atlante</i>) I assure you, he is a perfect +Antidote against that Passion’: And tho’ she suffer’d his ugly Presence +now, she should loathe and hate him, should he but name Love to her.</p> + +<p>She said, she believed she need not fear any such Persecution, since +he was a Man who was not at all amorous; +<span class = "pagenum">374</span> +that he had too much of the Satire in his Humour, to harbour any +Softness there: and Nature had form’d his Body to his Mind, wholly unfit +for Love. And that he might set his Heart absolutely at rest, she <ins +class = "correction" title = "text reads ‘asur’d’">assur’d</ins> him her +Father had never yet propos’d any Marriage to her, tho’ many +advantageous ones were offer’d him every Day.</p> + +<p>The Sails being turned to carry them back from whence they came; +after having discoursed of a thousand Things, and all of Love, and +Contrivance to carry on their mutual Design, they with Sighs parted; +<i>Rinaldo</i> staying behind in the Pleasure-Boat, and they going +a-shore in the Wherry that attended: after which he cast many an amorous +and sad Look, and perhaps was answer’d by those of <i>Atlante</i>.</p> + +<p>It was past Church-time two or three Hours, when they arrived at +home, wholly unprepar’d with an Excuse, so absolutely was +<i>Atlante’s</i> Soul possest with softer Business. The first Person +that they met was the Footman, who open’d the Door, and began to cry out +how long he had waited in the Church, and how in vain; without giving +them time to reply. <i>De Pais</i> came towards ’em, and with a frowning +Look demanded where they had been? <i>Atlante</i>, who was not +accustom’d to Excuses and Untruth, was a while at a stand; when +<i>Charlot</i> with a Voice of Joy cry’d out, ‘Oh Sir! we have been +a-board of a fine little Ship’: At this <i>Atlante</i> blush’d, fearing +she would tell the Truth. But she proceeded on, and said, that they had +not been above a Quarter of an Hour at Church, when the Lady <span class += "dash">——</span>, with some other Ladies and Cavaliers, +were going out of the Church, and that spying them, they would needs +have ’em go with ’em: My Sister, Sir, continu’d she, was very loth to +go, for fear you should be angry; but my Lady <span class = +"dash">——</span> was so importunate with her on one side, +and I on the other, because I never saw a little Ship in my Life, that +at last we prevail’d with her: therefore, good Sir, be not angry. He +promised them he was not. And when they came in, they found Count +<i>Vernole</i>, who had been inspiring <i>De Pais</i> +<span class = "pagenum">375</span> +with Severity, and counselled him to chide the young Ladies, for being +too long absent, under Pretence of going to their Devotion. Nor was it +enough for him to set the Father on, but himself with a Gravity, where +Concern and Malice were both apparent, reproached <i>Atlante</i> with +Levity; and told her, He believed she had some other Motive than the +Invitation of a Lady, to go on Ship-board; and that she had too many +Lovers, not to make them doubt that this was a design’d thing; and that +she had heard Love from some one, for whom it was design’d. To this she +made but a short Reply, That if it was so, she had no reason to conceal +it, since she had Sense enough to look after herself; and if any body +had made love to her, he might be assur’d, it was some one whose Quality +and Merit deserved to be heard: and with a Look of Scorn, she passed on +to another Room, and left him silently raging within with Jealousy: +Which, if before she tormented him, this Declaration increas’d it to a +pitch not to be conceal’d. And this Day he said so much to the Father, +that he resolv’d forthwith to send <i>Charlot</i> to a Nunnery: and +accordingly the next day he bid her prepare to go. <i>Charlot</i>, who +was not yet arrived to the Years of Distinction, did not much regret it; +and having no Trouble but leaving her Sister, she prepared to go to a +Nunnery, not many Streets from that where she dwelt. The Lady Abbess was +her Father’s Kinswoman, and had treated her very well, as often as she +came to visit her: so that with Satisfaction enough, she was condemned +to a Monastick Life, and was now going for her Probation-Year. +<i>Atlante</i> was troubled at her Departure, because she had no body to +bring and to carry Letters between <i>Rinaldo</i> and she: however, she +took her leave of her, and promis’d to come and see her as often as she +should be permitted to go abroad; for she fear’d now some Constraint +extraordinary would be put upon her: and so it happened.</p> + +<p><i>Atlante’s</i> Chamber was that to which the Balcony +<span class = "pagenum">376</span> +belong’d; and tho’ she durst not appear there in the Daytime, she could +in the Night, and that way give her Lover as many Hours of Conversation +as she pleased, without being perceiv’d: But how to give <i>Rinaldo</i> +notice of this, she could not tell; who not knowing <i>Charlot</i> was +gone to a Monastery, waited many days at his Window to see her: at last, +they neither of them knowing who to trust with any Message, one day, +when he was, as usual upon his watch, he saw <i>Atlante</i> step into +the Balcony, who having a Letter, in which she had put a piece of Lead, +she tost it into his Window, whose Casement was open, and run in again +unperceived by any but himself. The Paper contained only this:</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +My Chamber is that which looks into the Balcony; from whence, tho’ +I cannot converse with you in the Day, I can at Night, when I +am retired to go to bed: therefore be at your Window. +  <em>Farewel</em>.</p> + +<p>There needed no more to make him a diligent Watcher: and accordingly +she was no sooner retired to her Chamber, but she would come into the +Balcony, where she fail’d not to see him attending at his Window. This +happy Contrivance was thus carry’d on for many Nights, where they +entertain’d one another with all the Endearment that two Hearts could +dictate, who were perfectly united and assur’d of each other; and this +pleasing Conversation would often last till Day appear’d, and forced +them to part.</p> + +<p>But old <i>Bellyaurd</i> perceiving his Son frequent that Chamber +more than usual, fancy’d something extraordinary must be the Cause of +it; and one night asking for his Son, his Valet told him, he was gone +into the great Chamber, so this was called: <i>Bellyaurd</i> asked the +Valet what he did there; he told him he could not tell; for often he had +lighted him thither, and that his Master would take the Candle from him +at the Chamber-Door, and suffer him to go no farther. Tho’ the old +Gentleman could not imagine +<span class = "pagenum">377</span> +what Affairs he could have alone every Night in that Chamber, he had a +Curiosity to see: and one unlucky Night, putting off his Shoes, he came +to the Door of the Chamber, which was open; he enter’d softly, and saw +the Candle set in the Chimney, and his Son at a great open Bay-Window: +he stopt awhile to wait when he would turn, but finding him unmoveable, +he advanced something farther, and at last heard the soft Dialogue of +Love between him and <i>Atlante</i>, whom he knew to be she, by his +often calling her by her Name in their Discourse. He heard enough to +confirm him how Matters went; and unseen as he came, he returned, full +of Indignation, and thought how to prevent so great an Evil, as this +Passion of his Son might produce: at first he thought to round him +severely in the Ear about it, and upbraid him for doing the only thing +he had thought fit to forbid him; but then he thought that would but +terrify him for awhile, and he would return again, where he had so great +an Inclination, if he were near her; he therefore resolves to send him +to <i>Paris</i>, that by Absence he might forget the young Beauty that +had charm’d his Youth. Therefore, without letting <i>Rinaldo</i> know +the Reason, and without taking Notice that he knew any thing of his +Amour, he came to him one day, and told him, all the Masters he had for +the improving him in noble Sciences were very dull, or very remiss: and +that he resolved he should go for a Year or two to the Academy at +<i>Paris</i>. To this the Son made a thousand Evasions; but the Father +was positive, and not to be persuaded by all his Reasons: And finding he +should absolutely displease him if he refus’d to go, and not daring to +tell him the dear Cause of his Desire to remain at <i>Orleans</i>, he +therefore, with a breaking Heart, consents to go, nay, resolves it, tho’ +it should be his Death. But alas! he considers that this Parting will +not only prove the greatest Torment upon Earth to him, but that +<i>Atlante</i> will share in his Misfortunes also: This Thought gives +<span class = "pagenum">378</span> +him a double Torment, and yet he finds no Way to evade it.</p> + +<p>The Night that finished this fatal Day, he goes again to his wonted +Station, the Window; where he had not sighed very long, but he saw +<i>Atlante</i> enter the Balcony: He was not able a great while to speak +to her, or to utter one Word. The Night was light enough to see him at +the wonted Place; and she admires at his Silence, and demands the Reason +in such obliging Terms as adds to his Grief; and he, with a deep Sigh, +reply’d, ‘Urge me not, my fair <i>Atlante</i>, to speak, lest by obeying +you I give you more cause of Grief than my Silence is capable of doing’: +and then sighing again, he held his peace, and gave her leave to ask the +Cause of these last Words. But when he made no Reply but by sighing, she +imagin’d it much worse than indeed it was; and with a trembling and +fainting Voice, she cried, ‘Oh! <i>Rinaldo</i>, give me leave to divine +that cruel News you are so unwilling to tell me: It is so,’ added she, +‘you are destin’d to some more fortunate Maid than <i>Atlante</i>.’ At +this Tears stopped her Speech, and she could utter no more. ‘No, my +dearest Charmer (reply’d <i>Rinaldo</i>, elevating his Voice) if that +were all, you should see with what Fortitude I would die, rather than +obey any such Commands. I am vow’d yours to the last Moment of my +Life; and will be yours in spite of all the Opposition in the World: +that Cruelty I could evade, but cannot this that threatens me.’ ‘Ah! +(cried <i>Atlante</i>) let Fate do her worst, so she still continue +<i>Rinaldo</i> mine, and keep that Faith he hath sworn to me entire: +What can she do beside, that can afflict me?’ ‘She can separate me +(cried he) for some time from <i>Atlante</i>.’ ‘Oh! (reply’d she) +all Misfortunes fall so below that which I first imagin’d, that methinks +I do not resent this, as I should otherwise have done: but I know, when +I have a little more consider’d it, I shall even die with the Grief +of it; Absence being so great an Enemy to Love, and making us soon +<span class = "pagenum">379</span> +forget the Object belov’d: This, tho’ I never experienc’d, +I have heard, and fear it may be my Fate.’ He then convinc’d her +Fears with a thousand new Vows, and a thousand Imprecations of +Constancy. She then asked him, ‘If their Loves were discover’d, that he +was with such haste to depart?’ He told her, ‘Nothing of that was the +Cause; and he could almost wish it were discover’d, since he could +resolutely then refuse to go: but it was only to cultivate his Mind more +effectually than he could do here; ’twas the Care of his Father to +accomplish him the more; and therefore he could not contradict it. But +(said he) I am not sent where Seas shall part us, nor vast +Distances of Earth, but to <i>Paris</i>, from whence he might come in +two Days to see her again; and that he would expect from that Balcony, +that had given him so many happy Moments, many more when he should come +to see her.’ He besought her to send him away with all the Satisfaction +she could, which she could no otherwise do, than by giving him new +Assurances that she would never give away that Right he had in her to +any other Lover: She vows this with innumerable Tears; and is almost +angry with him for questioning her Faith. He tells her he has but one +Night more to stay, and his Grief would be unspeakable, if he should not +be able to take a better leave of her, than at a Window; and that, if +she would give him leave, he would by a Rope or two, tied together, so +as it may serve for Steps, ascend her Balcony; he not having time to +provide a Ladder of Ropes. She tells him she has so great a Confidence +in his Virtue and Love, that she will refuse him nothing, tho’ it would +be a very bold Venture for a Maid, to trust her self with a passionate +young Man, in silence of Night: and tho’ she did not extort a Vow from +him to secure her, she expected he would have a care of her Honour. He +swore to her, his Love was too religious for so base an Attempt. There +needed not many Vows to confirm her Faith; and it was agreed on between +<span class = "pagenum">380</span> +them, that he should come the next Night into her Chamber.</p> + +<p>It happen’d that Night, as it often did, that Count <i>Vernole</i> +lay with Monsieur <i>De Pais</i>, which was in a Ground-Room, just under +that of <i>Atlante’s</i>. As soon as she knew all were in bed, she gave +the word to <i>Rinaldo</i>, who was attending with the Impatience of a +passionate Lover below, under the Window; and who no sooner heard the +Balcony open, but he ascended with some difficulty, and enter’d the +Chamber, where he found <i>Atlante</i> trembling with Joy and Fear: He +throws himself at her Feet, as unable to speak as she; who nothing but +blushed and bent down her Eyes, hardly daring to glance them towards the +dear Object of her Desires, the Lord of all her Vows: She was asham’d to +see a Man in her Chamber, where yet none had ever been alone, and by +Night too. He saw her Fear, and felt her trembling; and after a thousand +Sighs of Love had made way for Speech, he besought her to fear nothing +from him, for his Flame was too sacred, and his Passion too holy to +offer any thing but what Honour with Love might afford him. At last he +brought her to some Courage, and the Roses of her fair Cheeks assum’d +their wonted Colour, not blushing too red, nor languishing too pale. But +when the Conversation began between them, it was the softest in the +world: They said all that parting Lovers could say; all that Wit and +Tenderness could express: They exchanged their Vows anew; and to confirm +his, he tied a Bracelet of Diamonds about her Arm, and she returned him +one of her Hair, which he had long begged, and she had on purpose made, +which clasped together with Diamonds; this she put about his Arm, and he +swore to carry it to his Grave. The Night was far spent in tender Vows, +soft Sighs and Tears on both sides, and it was high time to part: but, +as if Death had been to have arrived to them in that Minute, they both +linger’d away the time, like +<span class = "pagenum">381</span> +Lovers who had forgot themselves; and the Day was near approaching when +he bid farewel, which he repeated very often: for still he was +interrupted by some commanding Softness from <i>Atlante</i>, and then +lost all his Power of going; till she, more courageous and careful of +his Interest and her own Fame, forc’d him from her: and it was happy she +did, for he was no sooner got over the Balcony, and she had flung him +down his Rope, and shut the Door, but <i>Vernole</i>, whom Love and +Contrivance kept waking, fancy’d several times he heard a Noise in +<i>Atlante’s</i> Chamber. And whether in passing over the Balcony, +<i>Rinaldo</i> made any Noise or not, or whether it were still his +jealous Fancy, he came up in his Night-Gown, with a Pistol in his Hand. +<i>Atlante</i> was not so much lost in Grief, tho’ she were all in +Tears, but she heard a Man come up, and imagin’d it had been her Father, +she not knowing of Count <i>Vernole’s</i> lying in the House that Night; +if she had, she possibly had taken more care to have been silent; but +whoever it was, she could not get to bed soon enough, and therefore +turn’d her self to her Dressing-Table, where a Candle stood, and where +lay a Book open of the Story of <i>Ariadne</i> and <i>Theseus</i>. The +Count turning the Latch, enter’d halting into her Chamber in his +Night-Gown clapped close about him, which betray’d an ill-favour’d +Shape, his Night-Cap on, without a Perriwig, which discover’d all his +lean wither’d Jaws, his pale Face, and his Eyes staring: and made +altogether so dreadful a Figure, that <i>Atlante</i>, who no more dreamt +of him than of a Devil, had possibly have rather seen the last. She gave +a great Shriek, which frighted <i>Vernole</i>; so both stood for a while +staring on each other, till both were recollected: He told her the Care +of her Honour had brought him thither; and then rolling his small Eyes +round the Chamber, to see if he could discover any body, he proceeded, +and cry’d, ‘Madam, if I had no other Motive than your being up at this +time of Night, or rather of Day, I could easily guess how you have +been +<span class = "pagenum">382</span> +entertain’d.’ ‘What Insolence is this (said she, all in a rage) when to +cover your Boldness of approaching my Chamber at this Hour, you would +question how I have been entertain’d! Either explain your self, or quit +my Chamber; for I do not use to see such terrible Objects here.’ +‘Possibly those you do see (said the Count) are indeed more agreeable, +but I am afraid have not that Regard to your Honour as I have’: And at +that word he stepped to the Balcony, open’d it, and look’d out; but +seeing no body, he shut it to again. This enraged <i>Atlante</i> beyond +all Patience; and snatching the Pistol out of his Hand, she told him, He +deserved to have it aimed at his Head, for having the Impudence to +question her Honour, or her Conduct; and commanded him to avoid her +Chamber as he lov’d his Life, which she believ’d he was fonder of than +of her Honour. She speaking this in a Tone wholly transported with Rage, +and at the same time holding the Pistol towards him, made him tremble +with Fear; and he now found, whether she were guilty or not, it was his +turn to beg Pardon: For you must know, however it came to pass that his +Jealousy made him come up in that fierce Posture, at other times +<i>Vernole</i> was the most tame and passive Man in the World, and one +who was afraid of his own Shadow in the Night: He had a natural Aversion +for Danger, and thought it below a Man of Wit, or common Sense, to be +guilty of that brutal thing, called Courage or Fighting; His Philosophy +told him, <i>It was safe sleeping in a whole Skin</i>; and possibly he +apprehended as much Danger from this <i>Virago</i>, as ever he did from +his own Sex. He therefore fell on his Knees, and besought her to hold +her fair Hand, and not to suffer that, which was the greatest Mark of +his Respect, to be the Cause of her Hate or Indignation. The pitiful +Faces he made, and the Signs of Mortal Fear in him, had almost made her +laugh, at least it allay’d her Anger; and she bid him rise and play the +fool hereafter somewhere else, and not in her +<span class = "pagenum">383</span> +Presence; yet for once she would deign to give him this Satisfaction, +that she was got into a Book, which had many moving Stories very well +writ; and that she found her self so well entertain’d, she had forgot +how the Night passed. He most humbly thanked her for this Satisfaction, +and retired, perhaps not so well satisfied as he pretended.</p> + +<p>After this, he appear’d more submissive and respectful towards +<i>Atlante</i>; and she carry’d herself more reserv’d and haughty +towards him; which was one Reason, he would not yet discover his +Passion.</p> + +<p>Thus the Time run on at <i>Orleans</i>, while <i>Rinaldo</i> found +himself daily languishing at <i>Paris</i>. He was indeed in the best +Academy in the City, amongst a Number of brave and noble Youths, where +all things that could accomplish them, were to be learn’d by those that +had any Genius; but <i>Rinaldo</i> had other Thoughts, and other +Business: his Time was wholly past in the most solitary Parts of the +Garden, by the melancholy Fountains, and in the most gloomy Shades, +where he could with most Liberty breathe out his Passion and his Griefs. +He was past the Tutorage of a Boy; and his Masters could not upbraid +him, but found he had some secret Cause of Grief, which made him not +mind those Exercises, which were the Delight of the rest: so that +nothing being able to divert his Melancholy, which daily increased upon +him, he fear’d it would bring him into a Fever, if he did not give +himself the Satisfaction of seeing <i>Atlante</i>. He had no sooner +thought of this, but he was impatient to put it in execution; he +resolved to go (having very good Horses) without acquainting any of his +Servants with it. He got a very handsom and light Ladder of Ropes made, +which he carry’d under his Coat, and away he rid for <i>Orleans</i>, +stay’d at a little Village, till the Darkness of the Night might favour +his Design: And then walking about <i>Atlante’s</i> Lodgings, till he +saw a Light in her Chamber, and then making that Noise on his Sword, as +was agreed between them, he was heard by his adorable +<span class = "pagenum">384</span> +<i>Atlante</i>, and suffer’d to mount her Chamber, where he would stay +till almost break of Day, and then return to the Village, and take +Horse, and away for <i>Paris</i> again. This, once in a Month, was his +Exercise, without which he could not live; so that his whole Year was +past in riding between <i>Orleans</i> and <i>Paris</i>, between Excess +of Grief, and Excess of Joy by turns.</p> + +<p>It was now that <i>Atlante</i>, arrived to her fifteenth Year, shone +out with a Lustre of Beauty greater than ever; and in this Year, in the +Absence of <i>Rinaldo</i>, had carry’d herself with that Severity of +Life, without the youthful Desire of going abroad, or desiring any +Diversion, but what she found in her own retired Thoughts, that +<i>Vernole</i>, wholly unable longer to conceal his Passion, resolv’d to +make a Publication of it, first to the Father, and then to the lovely +Daughter, of whom he had some Hope, because she had carry’d her self +very well towards him for this Year past; which she would never have +done, if she had imagin’d he would ever have been her Lover: She had +seen no Signs of any such Misfortune towards her in these many Years he +had conversed with her, and she had no Cause to fear him. When one Day +her Father taking her into the Garden, told her what Honour and +Happiness was in store for her; and that now the Glory of his fall’n +Family would rise again, since she had a Lover of an illustrious Blood, +ally’d to Monarchs; and one whose Fortune was newly encreased to a very +considerable Degree, answerable to his Birth. She changed Colour at this +Discourse, imagining but too well who this illustrious Lover was; when +<i>De Pais</i> proceeded and told her, ‘Indeed his Person was not the +most agreeable that ever was seen: but he marry’d her to Glory and +Fortune, not the Man: And a Woman (says he) ought to look no +further.’</p> + +<p>She needed not any more to inform her who this intended Husband was; +and therefore, bursting forth into Tears, she throws herself at his +Feet, imploring him not +<span class = "pagenum">385</span> +to use the Authority of a Father, to force her to a thing so contrary to +her Inclination: assuring him, she could not consent to any such thing; +and that she would rather die than yield. She urged many Arguments for +this her Disobedience; but none would pass for current with the old +Gentleman, whose Pride had flatter’d him with Hopes of so considerable a +Son-in-law: He was very much surpriz’d at <i>Atlante’s</i> refusing what +he believ’d she would receive with Joy; and finding that no Arguments on +his Side could draw hers to an obedient Consent, he grew to such a Rage, +as very rarely possest him: vowing, if she did not conform her Will to +his, he would abandon her to all the Cruelty of Contempt and Poverty: so +that at last she was forced to return him this Answer, ‘That she would +strive all she could with her Heart; but she verily believed she should +never bring it to consent to a Marriage with Monsieur the Count.’ The +Father continued threatning her, and gave her some Days to consider of +it: So leaving her in Tears, he returned to his Chamber, to consider +what Answer he should give Count <i>Vernole</i>, who he knew would be +impatient to learn what Success he had, and what himself was to hope. +<i>De Pais</i>, after some Consideration, resolved to tell him, she +receiv’d the Offer very well, but that he must expect a little +Maiden-Nicety in the Case: and accordingly did tell him so; and he was +not at all doubtful of his good Fortune.</p> + +<p>But <i>Atlante</i>, who resolved to die a thousand Deaths rather than +break her solemn Vows to <i>Rinaldo</i>, or to marry the Count, cast +about how she should avoid it with the least Hazard of her Father’s +Rage. She found <i>Rinaldo</i> the better and more advantageous Match of +the two, could they but get his Father’s Consent: He was beautiful and +young; his Title was equal to that of <i>Vernole</i>, when his Father +should die; and his Estate exceeded his: yet she dares not make a +Discovery, for fear she should injure her Lover; who at this Time, +though she knew it not, +<span class = "pagenum">386</span> +lay sick of a Fever, while she was wondering that he came not as he used +to do. However she resolves to send him a Letter, and acquaint him with +the Misfortune; which she did in these Terms:</p> + +<p class = "center"> +<i>ATLANTE</i> to <i>RINALDO</i>.</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">My</span> Father’s Authority would force me to +violate my sacred Vows to you, and give them to the Count +<em>Vernole</em>, whom I mortally hate, yet could wish him the greatest +Monarch in the World, that I might shew you I could even then despise +him for your Sake. My Father is already too much enraged by my Denial, +to hear Reason from me, if I should confess to him my Vows to you: So +that I see nothing but a Prospect of Death before me; for assure your +self, my <em>Rinaldo</em>, I will die rather than consent to marry any +other: Therefore come my <em>Rinaldo</em>, and come quickly, to see my +Funerals, instead of those Nuptials they vainly expect from</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your Faithful<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span><i>ATLANTE</i>.</p> + +<p>This Letter <i>Rinaldo</i> receiv’d; and there needed no more to make +him fly to <i>Orleans</i>: This raised him soon from his Bed of +Sickness, and getting immediately to horse, he arrived at his Father’s +House; who did not so much admire to see him, because he heard he was +sick of a Fever, and gave him leave to return, if he pleas’d: He went +directly to his Father’s House, because he knew somewhat of the +Business, he was resolv’d to make his Passion known, as soon as he had +seen <i>Atlante</i>, from whom he was to take all his Measures: He +therefore fail’d not, when all were in Bed, to rise and go from his +Chamber into the Street; where finding a Light in <i>Atlante’s</i> +Chamber, for she every Night expected him, he made the usual Sign, and +she went into the Balcony; and he having no Conveniency of mounting up +into it, they discoursed, and said all they had to say. From thence she +tells him of the Count’s Passion, of her Father’s Resolution, and that +her own was rather to die his, than live any Body’s else: And at last, +as their Refuge, +<span class = "pagenum">387</span> +they resolv’d to discover the whole Matter; she to her Father, and he to +his, to see what Accommodation they could make; if not, to die together. +They parted at this Resolve, for she would permit him no longer to stay +in the Street after such a Sickness; so he went home to bed, but not to +sleep.</p> + +<p>The next Day, at Dinner, Monsieur <i>Bellyaurd</i> believing his Son +absolutely cur’d, by Absence, of his Passion; and speaking of all the +News in the Town, among the rest, told him he was come in good time to +dance at the Wedding of Count <i>Vernole</i> with <i>Atlante</i>, the +Match being agreed on: ‘No, Sir (reply’d <i>Rinaldo</i>) I shall never +dance at the Marriage of Count <i>Vernole</i> with <i>Atlante</i>; and +you will see in Monsieur <i>De Pais’s</i> House a Funeral sooner than a +Wedding.’ And thereupon he told his Father all his Passion for that +lovely Maid; and assur’d him, if he would not see him laid in his Grave, +he must consent to this Match. <i>Bellyaurd</i> rose in a Fury, and told +him, ‘He had rather see him in his Grave, than in the Arms of +<i>Atlante</i>: Not (continued he) so much for any Dislike I have +to the young Lady, or the Smallness of her Fortune; but because I have +so long warn’d you from such a Passion, and have with such Care +endeavour’d by your Absence to prevent it.’ He travers’d the Room very +fast, still protesting against this Alliance: and was deaf to all +<i>Rinaldo</i> could say. On the other side the Day being come, wherein +<i>Atlante</i> was to give her final Answer to her Father concerning her +Marriage with Count <i>Vernole</i>; she assum’d all the Courage and +Resolution she could, to withstand the Storm that threatned a Denial. +And her Father came to her, and demanding her Answer, she told him, ‘She +could not be the Wife of <i>Vernole</i>, since she was Wife to +<i>Rinaldo</i>, only son to <i>Bellyaurd</i>.’ If her Father storm’d +before, he grew like a Man distracted at her Confession; and +<i>Vernole</i> hearing them loud, ran to the Chamber to learn the Cause; +where just as he enter’d he found <i>De Pais’s</i> Sword drawn, and +ready to kill his +<span class = "pagenum">388</span> +Daughter, who lay all in Tears at his Feet. He with-held his Hand; and +asking the Cause of his Rage, he was told all that <i>Atlante</i> had +confess’d; which put <i>Vernole</i> quite beside all his Gravity, and +made him discover the Infirmity of Anger, which he used to say ought to +be dissembled by all wise Men: So that <i>De Pais</i> forgot his own to +appease his, but ’twas in vain, for he went out of the House, vowing +Revenge to <i>Rinaldo</i>: And to that end, being not very well assur’d +of his own Courage, as I said before, and being of the Opinion, that no +Man ought to expose his Life to him who has injur’d him; he hired +<i>Swiss</i> and <i>Spanish</i> Soldiers to attend him in the nature of +Footmen; and watch’d several Nights about <i>Bellyaurd’s</i> Door, and +that of <i>De Pais’s</i>, believing he should some time or other see him +under the Window of <i>Atlante</i>, or perhaps mounting into it: for now +he no longer doubted, but this happy Lover was he, whom he fancy’d he +heard go from the Balcony that Night he came up with his Pistol; and +being more a <i>Spaniard</i> than a <i>Frenchman</i> in his Nature, he +resolv’d to take him any way unguarded or unarm’d, if he came in his +Way.</p> + +<p><i>Atlante</i>, who heard his Threatnings when he went from her in a +Rage, fear’d his Cowardice might put him on some base Action, to deprive +<i>Rinaldo</i> of his Life; and therefore thought it not safe to suffer +him to come to her by Night, as he had before done; but sent him word in +a Note, that he should forbear her Window, for <i>Vernole</i> had sworn +his Death. This Note came, unseen by his Father, to his Hands: but this +could not hinder him from coming to her Window, which he did as soon as +it was dark: he came thither, only attended with his Valet, and two +Footmen; for now he car’d not who knew the Secret. He had no sooner made +the Sign, but he found himself incompass’d with <i>Vernole’s</i> +Bravoes; and himself standing at a distance cry’d out, ‘That is he’: +With that they all drew on both sides, and <i>Rinaldo</i> receiv’d a +Wound in his Arm. <i>Atlante</i> heard this, and ran crying out, ‘That +<span class = "pagenum">389</span> +<i>Rinaldo</i>, prest by Numbers, would be kill’d.’ <i>De Pais</i>, who +was reading in his Closet, took his Sword, and ran out; and, contrary to +all Expectation, seeing <i>Rinaldo</i> fighting with his Back to the +Door, pull’d him into the House, and fought himself with the Bravoes: +who being very much wounded by <i>Rinaldo</i>, gave ground, and sheer’d +off; and <i>De Pais</i>, putting up old <i>Bilbo</i> into the Scabbard, +went into his House, where he found <i>Rinaldo</i> almost fainting with +loss of Blood, and <i>Atlante</i>, with her Maids binding up his Wound; +to whom <i>De Pais</i> said, ‘This charity, <i>Atlante</i>, very well +becomes you, and is what I can allow you; and I could wish you had no +other Motive for this Action.’ <i>Rinaldo</i> by degrees recover’d of +his Fainting, and as well as his Weakness would permit him, he got up +and made a low Reverence to <i>De Pais</i>, telling him, ‘He had now a +double Obligation to pay him all the Respect in the World; first, for +his being the Father of <i>Atlante</i>; and secondly, for being the +Preserver of his Life: two Tyes that should eternally oblige him to love +and honour him, as his own Parent.’ <i>De Pais</i> reply’d, ‘He had done +nothing but what common Humanity compell’d him to do: But if he would +make good that Respect he profess’d towards him, it must be in quitting +all Hopes of <i>Atlante</i>, whom he had destin’d to another, or an +eternal Inclosure in a Monastery: He had another Daughter, whom if he +would think worthy of his Regard, he should take his Alliance as a very +great Honour; but his Word and Reputation, nay his Vows were past, to +give <i>Atlante</i> to Count <i>Vernole</i>.’ <i>Rinaldo</i>, who before +he spoke took measure from <i>Atlante’s</i> Eyes, which told him her +Heart was his, return’d this Answer to <i>De Pais</i>, ‘That he was +infinitely glad to find by the Generosity of his Offer, that he had no +Aversion against his being his Son-in-law; and that, next to +<i>Atlante</i>, the greatest Happiness he could wish would be his +receiving <i>Charlot</i> from his Hand; but that he could not think of +quitting <i>Atlante</i>, how necessary soever it would be, for +<span class = "pagenum">390</span> +Glory, and his—(the further) Repose.’ <i>De Pais</i> would not let +him at this time argue the matter further, seeing he was ill, and had +need of looking after; he therefore begg’d he would for his Health’s +sake retire to his own House, whither he himself conducted him, and left +him to the Care of his Men, who were escap’d the Fray; and returning to +his own Chamber, he found <i>Atlante</i> retir’d, and so he went to bed +full of Thoughts. This Night had increas’d his Esteem for +<i>Rinaldo</i>, and lessen’d it for Count <i>Vernole</i>; but his Word +and Honour being past, he could not break it, neither with Safety nor +Honour: for he knew the haughty resenting Nature of the Count, and he +fear’d some Danger might arrive to the brave <i>Rinaldo</i>, which +troubled him very much. At last he resolv’d, that neither might take any +thing ill at his Hands, to lose <i>Atlante</i>, and send her to the +Monastery where her Sister was, and compel her to be a Nun. This he +thought would prevent Mischiefs on both sides; and accordingly, the next +Day, (having in the Morning sent Word to the Lady Abbess what he would +have done) he carries <i>Atlante</i>, under pretence of visiting her +Sister, (which they often did) to the Monastery, where she was no sooner +come, but she was led into the Inclosure: Her Father had rather +sacrifice her, than she should be the Cause of the Murder of two such +noble Men as <i>Vernole</i> and <i>Rinaldo</i>.</p> + +<p>The Noise of <i>Atlante’s</i> being inclos’d, was soon spread all +over the busy Town, and <i>Rinaldo</i> was not the last to whom the News +arriv’d: He was for a few Days confin’d to his Chamber; where, when +alone, he rav’d like a Man distracted; But his Wounds had so incens’d +his Father against <i>Atlante</i>, that he swore he would see his Son +die of them, rather than suffer him to marry <i>Atlante</i>; and was +extremely overjoy’d to find she was condemn’d, for ever, to the +Monastery. So that the Son thought it the wisest Course, and most for +the advantage of his Love, to say nothing to contradict his Father; but +being almost assur’d <i>Atlante</i> would never consent to be shut up in +a +<span class = "pagenum">391</span> +Cloyster, and abandon him, he flatter’d himself with hope, that he +should steal her from thence, and marry her in spite of all Opposition. +This he was impatient to put in practice: He believ’d, if he were not +permitted to see <i>Atlante</i>, he had still a kind Advocate in +<i>Charlot</i>, who was now arriv’d to her Thirteenth Year, and +infinitely advanc’d in Wit and Beauty. <i>Rinaldo</i> therefore often +goes to the Monastery, surrounding it, to see what Possibility there was +of accomplishing his Design; if he could get her Consent, he finds it +not impossible, and goes to visit <i>Charlot</i>; who had command not to +see him, or speak to him. This was a Cruelty he look’d not for, and +which gave him an unspeakable Trouble, and without her Aid it was wholly +impossible to give <i>Atlante</i> any account of his Design. In this +Perplexity he remain’d many Days, in which he languish’d almost to +Death; he was distracted with Thought, and continually hovering about +the Nunnery-Walls, in hope, at some time or other, to see or hear from +that lovely Maid, who alone could make his Happiness. In these Traverses +he often met <i>Vernole</i>, who had Liberty to see her when he pleas’d: +If it happen’d that they chanc’d to meet in the Daytime, tho’ +<i>Vernole</i> was attended with an Equipage of Ruffians, and +<i>Rinaldo</i> but only with a couple of Footmen, he could perceive +<i>Vernole</i> shun him, grow pale, and almost tremble with Fear +sometimes, and get to the other Side of the Street; and if he did not, +<i>Rinaldo</i> having a mortal Hate to him, would often bear up so close +to him, that he would jostle him against the Wall, which <i>Vernole</i> +would patiently put up, and pass on; so that he could never be provok’d +to fight by Day-light, how solitary soever the Place was where they met: +but if they chanc’d to meet at Night, they were certain of a Skirmish, +in which he would have no part himself; so that <i>Rinaldo</i> was often +like to be assassinated, but still came off with some slight Wound. This +continu’d so long, and made so great a Noise in the +<span class = "pagenum">392</span> +Town, that the two old Gentlemen were mightily alarm’d by it; and Count +<i>Bellyaurd</i> came to <i>De Pais</i>, one Day, to discourse with him +of this Affair; and <i>Bellyaurd</i>, for the Preservation of his Son, +was almost consenting, since there was no Remedy, that he should marry +<i>Atlante</i>. <i>De Pais</i> confess’d the Honour he proffer’d him, +and how troubled he was, that his Word was already past to his Friend, +the Count <i>Vernole</i>, whom he said she should marry, or remain for +ever a Nun; but if <i>Rinaldo</i> could displace his Love from +<i>Atlante</i>, and place it on <i>Charlot</i>, he should gladly consent +to the Match. <i>Bellyaurd</i>, who would now do anything for the Repose +of his Son, tho’ he believ’d this Exchange would not pass, yet resolv’d +to propose it, since by marrying him he took him out of the Danger of +<i>Vernole’s</i> Assassinates, who would never leave him till they had +dispatch’d him, should he marry <i>Atlante</i>.</p> + +<p>While <i>Rinaldo</i> was contriving a thousand ways to come to speak +to, or send Billets to <i>Atlante</i>, none of which could succeed +without the Aid of <i>Charlot</i>, his Father came and propos’d this +Agreement between <i>De Pais</i> and himself, to his Son. At first +<i>Rinaldo</i> receiv’d it with a chang’d Countenance, and a breaking +Heart; but swiftly turning from Thought to Thought, he conceiv’d this +the only way to come at <i>Charlot</i>, and so consequently at +<i>Atlante</i>: he therefore, after some dissembled Regret, consents, +with a sad put-on Look: And <i>Charlot</i> had Notice given her to see +and entertain <i>Rinaldo</i>. As yet they had not told her the Reason; +which her Father would tell her, when he came to visit her, he said. +<i>Rinaldo</i> over-joy’d at this Contrivance, and his own +Dissimulation, goes to the Monastery, and visits <i>Charlot</i>; where +he ought to have said something of this Proposition: but wholly bent +upon other Thoughts, he sollicits her to convey some Letters, and +Presents to <i>Atlante</i>; which she readily did, to the unspeakable +Joy of the poor Distrest. Sometimes he would talk to <i>Charlot</i> of +her own Affairs; asking her, if she +<span class = "pagenum">393</span> +resolv’d to become a Nun? To which she would sigh, and say, If she must, +it would be extremely against her Inclinations; and, if it pleas’d her +Father, she had rather begin the World with any tolerable Match.</p> + +<p>Things past thus for some Days, in which our Lovers were happy, and +<i>Vernole</i> assur’d he should have <i>Atlante</i>. But at last <i>De +Pais</i> came to visit <i>Charlot</i>, who ask’d her, if she had seen +<i>Rinaldo</i>? She answer’d, ‘She had.’ ‘And how does he entertain you? +(reply’d <i>De Pais</i>) Have you receiv’d him as a Husband? and has he +behav’d himself like one?’ At this a sudden Joy seiz’d the Heart of +<i>Charlot</i>; and both to confess what she had done for him to her +Sister, she hung down her blushing Face to study for an Answer. <i>De +Pais</i> continued, and told her the Agreement between <i>Bellyaurd</i> +and him, for the saving of Bloodshed.</p> + +<p>She, who blest the Cause, whatever it was, having always a great +Friendship and Tenderness for <i>Rinaldo</i>, gave her Father a thousand +Thanks for his Care; and assur’d him, since she was commanded by him, +she would receive him as her Husband.</p> + +<p>And the next Day, when <i>Rinaldo</i> came to visit her, as he us’d +to do, and bringing a Letter with him, wherein he propos’d the flight of +<i>Atlante</i>; he found a Coldness in <i>Charlot</i>, as soon as he +told her his Design, and desir’d her to carry the Letter. He ask’d the +Reason of this Change: She tells him she was inform’d of the Agreement +between their two Fathers, and that she look’d upon herself as his Wife, +and would act no more as a Confident; that she had ever a violent +Inclination of Friendship for him, which she would soon improve into +something more soft.</p> + +<p>He could not deny the Agreement, nor his Promise; but it was in vain +to tell her, he did it only to get a Correspondence with <i>Atlante</i>: +She is obstinate, and he as pressing, with all the Tenderness of +Persuasion: He vows he can never be any but <i>Atlante’s</i>, and she +may see him die, but never break his Vows. She urges her Claim +<span class = "pagenum">394</span> +in vain, so that at last she was overcome, and promised she would carry +the Letter; which was to have her make her Escape that Night. He waits +at the Gate for her Answer, and <i>Charlot</i> returns with one that +pleased him very well; which was, that Night her Sister would make her +Escape, and that he must stand in such a Place of the Nunnery-Wall, and +she would come out to him.</p> + +<p>After this she upbraids him with his false Promise to her, and of her +Goodness to serve him after such a Disappointment. He receives her +Reproaches with a thousand Sighs, and bemoans her Misfortune in not +being capable of more than Friendship for her; and vows, that next +<i>Atlante</i>, he esteems her of all Womankind. She seems to be obliged +by this, and assured him, she would hasten the Flight of <i>Atlante</i>; +and taking leave, he went home to order a Coach, and some Servants to +assist him.</p> + +<p>In the mean time Count <i>Vernole</i> came to visit <i>Atlante</i>; +but she refused to be seen by him: And all he could do there that +Afternoon, was entertaining <i>Charlot</i> at the Grate; to whom he +spoke a great many fine Things, both of her improved Beauty and Wit; and +how happy <i>Rinaldo</i> would be in so fair a Bride. She received this +with all the Civility that was due to his Quality; and their Discourse +being at an End, he took his Leave, being towards the Evening.</p> + +<p><i>Rinaldo</i>, wholly impatient, came betimes to the Corner of the +dead Wall, where he was appointed to stand, having ordered his Footmen +and Coach to come to him as soon it was dark. While he was there walking +up and down, <i>Vernole</i> came by the End of the Wall to go home; and +looking about, he saw, at the other End, <i>Rinaldo</i> walking, whose +Back was towards him, but he knew him well; and tho’ he feared and +dreaded his Business there, he durst not encounter him, they being both +attended but by one Footman a-piece. But <i>Vernole’s</i> Jealousy and +Indignation were so high, that he resolved to fetch his Bravoes to his +Aid, and come and assault him: For he knew he waited there for some +Message from <i>Atlante</i>.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">395</span> +<p>In the mean Time it grew dark, and <i>Rinaldo</i>’s Coach came with +another Footman; which were hardly arrived, when <i>Vernole</i>, with +his Assistants, came to the Corner of the Wall, and skreening themselves +a little behind it, near to the Place where <i>Rinaldo</i> stood, who +waited now close to a little Door, out of which the Gardeners used to +throw the Weeds and Dirt, <i>Vernole</i> could perceive anon the Door to +open, and a Woman come out of it, calling <i>Rinaldo</i> by his Name, +who stept up to her, and caught her in his Arms with Signs of infinite +Joy. <i>Vernole</i> being now all Rage, cry’d to his Assassinates, ‘Fall +on, and kill the Ravisher’: And immediately they all fell on. +<i>Rinaldo</i>, who had only his two Footmen on his Side, was forc’d to +let go the Lady; who would have run into the Garden again, but the Door +fell to and lock’d: so that while <i>Rinaldo</i> was fighting, and +beaten back by the Bravoes, one of which he laid dead at his Feet, +<i>Vernole</i> came to the frighted Lady, and taking her by the Hand, +cry’d, ‘Come, my fair Fugitive, you must go along with me.’ She wholly +scar’d out of her Senses, was willing to go any where out of the Terror +she heard so near her, and without Reply, gave her self into his Hand, +who carried her directly to her Father’s House; where she was no sooner +come, but he told her Father all that had past, and how she was running +away with <i>Rinaldo</i>, but that his good Fortune brought him just in +the lucky Minute. Her Father turning to reproach her, found by the Light +of a Candle that this was <i>Charlot</i>, and not <i>Atlante</i>, whom +<i>Vernole</i> had brought Home: At which <i>Vernole</i> was extremely +astonish’d. Her Father demanded of her why she was running away with a +Man, who was design’d her by Consent? ‘Yes, (said <i>Charlot</i>) you +had his Consent, Sir, and that of his Father; but I was far from getting +it: I found he resolv’d to die rather than quit <i>Atlante</i>; and +promising him my Assistance in his Amour, since he could never be mine, +he got me to carry a Letter to +<span class = "pagenum">396</span> +<i>Atlante</i>; which was, to desire her to fly away with him. Instead +of carrying her this Letter, I told her, he was design’d for me, +and had cancell’d all his Vows to her: She swoon’d at this News; and +being recover’d a little, I left her in the Hands of the Nuns, to +persuade her to live; which she resolves not to do without +<i>Rinaldo</i>. Tho’ they press’d me, yet I resolv’d to pursue my +Design, which was to tell <i>Rinaldo</i> she would obey his kind +Summons. He waited for her; but I put my self into his Hands in lieu of +<i>Atlante</i>; and had not the Count receiv’d me, we had been marry’d +by this time, by some false Light that could not have discover’d me: But +I am satisfied, if I had, he would never have liv’d with me longer than +the Cheat had been undiscover’d; for I find them both resolved to die, +rather than change. And for my part, Sir, I was not so much in Love +with <i>Rinaldo</i>, as I was out of love with the Nunnery; and took any +Opportunity to quit a Life absolutely contrary to my Humour.’ She spoke +this with a Gaiety so brisk, and an Air so agreeable, that +<i>Vernole</i> found it touch’d his Heart; and the rather because he +found <i>Atlante</i> would never be his; or if she were, he should be +still in Danger from the Resentment of <i>Rinaldo</i>: he therefore +bowing to <i>Charlot</i>, and taking her by the Hand, cry’d, ‘Madam, +since Fortune has dispos’d you thus luckily for me, in my Possession, +I humbly implore you would consent she should make me entirely +happy, and give me the Prize for which I fought, and have conquer’d with +my Sword.’ ‘My Lord, (reply’d <i>Charlot</i>, with a modest Air) +I am superstitious enough to believe, since Fortune, so contrary to +all our Designs, has given me into your Hands, that she from the +beginning destin’d me to the Honour, which, with my Father’s Consent, +I shall receive as becomes me.’ <i>De Pais</i> transported with +Joy, to find all Things would be so well brought about, it being all one +to him, whether <i>Charlot</i> or <i>Atlante</i> gave him Count +<i>Vernole</i> for his Son-in-law, readily consented; +<span class = "pagenum">397</span> +and immediately a Priest was sent for, and they were that Night marry’d. +And it being now not above seven o’Clock, many of their Friends were +invited, the Musick sent for, and as good a Supper as so short a Time +would provide, was made ready.</p> + +<p>All this was perform’d in as short a time as <i>Rinaldo</i> was +fighting; and having kill’d one, and wounded the rest, they all fled +before his conquering Sword, which was never drawn with so good a Will. +When he came where his Coach stood, just against the Back-Garden-Door, +he looked for his Mistress: But the Coachman told him, he was no sooner +engaged, but a Man came, and with a thousand Reproaches on her Levity, +bore her off.</p> + +<p>This made our young Lover rave; and he is satisfied she is in the +Hands of his Rival, and that he had been fighting, and shedding his +Blood, only to secure her Flight with him. He lost all Patience, and it +was with much ado his Servants persuaded him to return; telling him in +their Opinion, she was more likely to get out of the Hands of his Rival, +and come to him, than when she was in the Monastery.</p> + +<p>He suffers himself to go into his Coach and be carry’d home; but he +was no sooner alighted, than he heard Musick and Noise at <i>De +Pais’s</i> House. He saw Coaches surround his Door, and Pages and +Footmen, with Flambeaux. The Sight and Noise of Joy made him ready to +sink at the Door; and sending his Footmen to learn the Cause of this +Triumph, the Pages that waited told him, That Count <i>Vernole</i> was +this Night married to Monsieur <i>De Pais’s</i> Daughter. He needed no +more to deprive him of all Sense; and staggering against his Coach, he +was caught by his Footmen and carried into his House, and to his +Chamber, where they put him to Bed, all sensless as he was, and had much +ado to recover him to Life. He ask’d for his Father, with a faint Voice, +for he desir’d to see him before he died. It was told him he was gone to +Count <i>Vernole’s</i> Wedding, where there was a perfect +<span class = "pagenum">398</span> +Peace agreed on between them, and all their Animosities laid aside. At +this News <i>Rinaldo</i> fainted again; and his Servants call’d his +Father home, and told him in what Condition they had brought home their +Master, recounting to him all that was past. He hasten’d to +<i>Rinaldo</i>, whom he found just recover’d of his Swooning; who, +putting his Hand out to his Father, all cold and trembling, cry’d, +‘Well, Sir, now you are satisfied, since you have seen <i>Atlante</i> +married to Count <i>Vernole</i>, I hope now you will give your +unfortunate Son leave to die; as you wish’d he should, rather than give +him to the Arms of <i>Atlante</i>.’ Here his Speech fail’d, and he fell +again into a Fit of Swooning; His Father ready to die with fear of his +Son’s Death, kneel’d down by his Bed-side; and after having recover’d a +little, he said, ‘My dear Son, I have been indeed at the Wedding of +Count <i>Vernole</i>, but ’tis not <i>Atlante</i> to whom he is married, +but <i>Charlot</i>; who was the Person you were bearing from the +Monastery, instead of <i>Atlante</i>, who is still reserv’d for you, and +she is dying till she hear you are reserv’d for her; Therefore, as you +regard her Life, make much of your own, and make your self fit to +receive her; for her Father and I have agreed the Marriage already.’ And +without giving him leave to think, he call’d to one of his Gentlemen, +and sent him to the Monastery, with this News to <i>Atlante</i>. +<i>Rinaldo</i> bowed himself as low as he could in his Bed, and kiss’d +the Hand of his Father, with Tears of Joy: But his Weakness continued +all the next Day; and they were fain to bring <i>Atlante</i> to him, to +confirm his Happiness.</p> + +<p>It must only be guessed by Lovers, the perfect Joy these two receiv’d +in the sight of each other. <i>Bellyaurd</i> received her as his +Daughter; and the next Day made her so, with very great Solemnity, at +which were <i>Vernole</i> and <i>Charlot</i>: Between <i>Rinaldo</i> and +him was concluded a perfect Peace, and all thought themselves happy in +this <a class = "comm" name = "lucky_commtag2" id = "lucky_commtag2" +href = "#lucky_comm2">double Union</a>.</p> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<span class = "pagenum"><i>522</i></span> + +<h5><a name = "lucky_notes" id = "lucky_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Lucky Mistake.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "lucky_comm1" id = "lucky_comm1" href = "#lucky_dedic">p. +351</a> +This Dedication only appears in the first edition (12mo, 1689), ‘for +R. Bentley’. George Granville or Grenville,<a class = "tag" name = +"tag_lucky_1" id = "tag_lucky_1" href = "#note_lucky_1">1</a> Lord +Lansdowne, the celebrated wit, dramatist and poet, was born in 1667. +Having zealously offered in 1688 to defend James II, during the +subsequent reign he perforce ‘lived in literary retirement’. He then +wrote <i>The She Gallants</i> (1696, and 4to, 1696), an excellent comedy +full of jest and spirit. Offending, however, some ladies ‘who set up for +chastity’ it made its exit. Granville afterwards revived it as <i>Once a +Lover and Always a Lover</i>. <i>Heroick Love</i>, a tragedy +(1698), had great success. <i>The Jew of Venice</i> (1701), is a +piteously weak adaption of <i>The Merchant of Venice</i>. A short +masque, <i>Peleus and Thetis</i> accompanies the play. <i>The British +Enchanters</i>, an opera (1706), is a pleasing piece, and was very well +received. At the accession of Queen Anne, Granville entered the +political arena and attained considerable offices of state. Suspected of +being an active Jacobite he was, under George I, imprisoned from 25 +September, 1715, till 8 February, 1717. In 1722 he went abroad, and +lived in Paris for ten years. In 1732 he returned and published a finely +printed edition of his complete <i>Works</i> (2 Vols., 4to, 1732; +and again, 3 <ins class = "correction" title = ". missing">Vols.</ins>, +1736, 12mo). He died 30 January, 1735, and is buried in St. Clement +Danes.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "lucky_comm2" id = "lucky_comm2" href = "#lucky_commtag2">p. +398</a> +<i>double Union</i>. In a collection of Novels with running title: +<i>The Deceived Lovers</i> (1696), we find No. <span class = +"smallroman">V</span> <i>The Curtezan Deceived</i>, ‘An Addition to The +Lucky Mistake, Written by Mrs. A. Behn.’ This introduction of Mrs. +Behn’s name was a mere bookseller’s trick to catch the unwary reader. +<i>The Curtezan Deceived</i> is of no value. It has nothing to do with +Aphra’s work and is as commonplace a little novel as an hundred others +of its day.</p> + +<p class = "footnote"> +<a class = "tag" name = "note_lucky_1" id = "note_lucky_1" href = +"#tag_lucky_1">1</a> +The spelling ‘Greenvil’ ‘Greenviel’ is incorrect.</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">399</span> +<a name = "unfortunate" id = "unfortunate"> </a> + + +<h3>THE UNFORTUNATE BRIDE;<br> +OR, THE BLIND LADY A BEAUTY.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">401</span> + +<h4><a class = "comm" name = "unfortunate_dedic" id = +"unfortunate_dedic" href = "#unfortunate_comm1"> +TO RICHARD NORTON</a>, OF SOUTHWICK IN<br> +HANTSHIRE, ESQUIRE.</h4> + +<p>Honour’d Sir,</p> + +<p>Eminent Wit, Sir, no more than Eminent Beauty, can escape the Trouble +and Presumption of Addresses; and that which can strike every body with +Wonder, can never avoid the Praise which naturally flows from that +Wonder: And Heaven is forc’d to hear the Addresses as well as praises of +the Poor as Rich, of the Ignorant as Learned, and takes, nay rewards, +the officious tho’ perhaps impertinent Zeal of its least qualify’d +Devotees. Wherefore, Sir, tho’ your Merits meet with the Applause of the +Learned and Witty, yet your Generosity will judge favourably of the +untaught Zeal of an humbler Admirer, since what I do your eminent +Vertues compel. The Beautiful will permit the most despicable of their +Admirers to love them, tho’ they never intend to make him happy, as +unworthy their Love, but they will not be angry at the fatal Effect of +their own Eyes.</p> + +<p>But what I want in my self, Sir, to merit your Regard, I hope my +Authoress will in some measure supply, so far at least to lessen my +Presumption in prefixing your Name to a Posthumous Piece of hers, whom +all the Men of Wit, that were her Contemporaries, look’d on as the +Wonder of her Sex; and in none of her Performances has she shew’d so +great a Mastery as in her Novels, where Nature always prevails; and if +they are not true, they are so like it, that they do the business every +jot as well.</p> + +<p>This I hope, Sir, will induce you to pardon my Presumption in +dedicating this Novel to you, and declaring my self, Sir,</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your most obedient<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>and most humble Servant,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span>S. Briscoe.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">402</span> + +<h4><a name = "unfortunate_main" id = "unfortunate_main"> +THE UNFORTUNATE BRIDE:</a><br> +or, The Blind Lady a Beauty.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword"><i>Frankwit</i></span> and <i>Wildvill</i>, +were two young Gentlemen of very considerable Fortunes, both born in +<i>Staffordshire</i>, and, during their Minority, both educated +together, by which Opportunity they contracted a very inviolable +Friendship, a Friendship which grew up with them; and though it was +remarkably known to every Body else, they knew it not themselves; they +never made Profession of it in Words, but Actions; so true a Warmth +their Fires could boast, as needed not the Effusion of their Breath to +make it live. <i>Wildvill</i> was of the richest Family, but +<i>Frankwit</i> of the noblest; <i>Wildvill</i> was admired for outward +Qualifications, as Strength, and manly Proportions, <i>Frankwit</i> for +a much softer Beauty, for his inward Endowments, Pleasing in his +Conversation, of a free, and moving Air, humble in his Behaviour, and if +he had any Pride, it was but just enough to shew that he did not affect +Humility; his Mind bowed with a Motion as unconstrained as his Body, nor +did he force this Vertue in the least, but he allowed it only. So <ins +class = "correction" title = "spelling unchanged">aimable</ins> he was, +that every Virgin that had Eyes, knew too she had a Heart, and knew as +surely she should lose it. His <i>Cupid</i> could not be reputed blind, +he never shot for him, but he was sure to wound. As every other Nymph +admired him, so he was dear to all the Tuneful Sisters; the Muses were +fired with him as much as their own radiant God <i>Apollo</i>; their +loved Springs and Fountains were not so grateful to their Eyes as he, +him they esteemed their <i>Helicon</i> and <i>Parnassus</i> too; in +short, when ever he pleased, he could +<span class = "pagenum">403</span> +enjoy them all. Thus he enamour’d the whole Female Sex, but amongst all +the sighing Captives of his Eyes, <i>Belvira</i> only boasted Charms to +move him; her Parents lived near his, and even from their Childhood they +felt mutual Love, as if their Eyes, at their first meeting, had struck +out such Glances, as had kindled into amorous Flame. And now +<i>Belvira</i> in her fourteenth Year, (when the fresh Spring of young +Virginity began to cast more lively Bloomings in her Cheeks, and softer +Longings in her Eyes) by her indulgent Father’s Care was sent to +<i>London</i> to a Friend, her Mother being lately dead: When, as if +Fortune ordered it so, <i>Frankwit’s</i> Father took a Journey to the +other World, to let his Son the better enjoy the Pleasures and Delights +of this: The young Lover now with all imaginable haste interred his +Father, nor did he shed so many Tears for his Loss, as might in the +least quench the Fire which he received from his <i>Belvira’s</i> Eyes, +but (Master of seventeen Hundred Pounds a Year, which his Father left +him) with all the Wings of Love flies to <i>London</i>, and sollicits +<i>Belvira</i> with such Fervency, that it might be thought he meant +Death’s Torch should kindle <i>Hymen’s</i>; and now as soon as he +arrives at his Journey’s end, he goes to pay a Visit to the fair +Mistress of his Soul, and assures her, That tho’ he was absent from her, +yet she was still with him; and that all the Road he travell’d, her +beauteous Image danced before him, and like the ravished Prophet, he saw +his Deity in every Bush; in short, he paid her constant Visits, the Sun +ne’er rose or set, but still he saw it in her Company, and every Minute +of the Day he counted by his Sighs. So incessantly he importuned her +that she could no longer hold out, and was pleased in the surrender of +her Heart, since it was he was Conqueror; and therefore felt a Triumph +in her yielding. Their Flames now joyned, grew more and more, glowed in +their Cheeks, and lightened in their Glances: Eager they looked, as if +<span class = "pagenum">404</span> +there were Pulses beating in their Eyes; and all endearing, at last she +vowed, that <i>Frankwit</i> living she would ne’er be any other Man’s. +Thus they past on some time, while every Day rowl’d over fair; Heaven +showed an Aspect all serene, and the Sun seemed to smile at what was +done. He still caressed his Charmer, with an Innocence becoming his +Sincerity; he lived upon her tender Breath, and basked in the bright +Lustre of her Eyes, with Pride, and secret Joy.</p> + +<p>He saw his Rivals languish for that Bliss, those Charms, those +Raptures and extatick Transports, which he engrossed alone. But now some +eighteen Months (some Ages in a Lover’s Kalendar) winged with Delights, +and fair <i>Belvira</i> now grown fit for riper Joys, knows hardly how +she can deny her pressing Lover, and herself, to crown their Vows, and +joyn their Hands as well as Hearts. All this while the young Gallant +wash’d himself clean of that shining Dirt, his Gold; he fancied little +of Heaven dwelt in his yellow Angels, but let them fly away, as it were +on their own golden Wings; he only valued the smiling Babies in +<i>Belvira’s</i> Eyes. His Generosity was boundless, as his Love, for no +Man ever truly loved, that was not generous. He thought his Estate, like +his Passion, was a sort of a <i>Pontick</i> Ocean, it could never know +an Ebb; But now he found it could be fathom’d, and that the Tide was +turning, therefore he sollicits with more impatience the consummation of +their Joys, that both might go like Martyrs from their Flames +immediately to Heaven; and now at last it was agreed between them, that +they should both be one, but not without some Reluctancy on the Female +side; for ’tis the Humour of our Sex, to deny most eagerly those Grants +to Lovers, for which most tenderly we sigh, so contradictory are we to +our selves, as if the Deity had made us with a seeming Reluctancy to his +own Designs; placing as much Discords in our Minds, as there is Harmony +in our Faces. We are a sort +<span class = "pagenum">405</span> +of aiery Clouds, whose Lightning flash out one way, and the Thunder +another. Our Words and Thoughts can ne’er agree. So this young charming +Lady thought her Desires could live in their own longings, like Misers +wealth-devouring Eyes; and e’er she consented to her Lover, prepared him +first with speaking Looks, and then with a fore-running Sigh, applyed to +the dear Charmer thus: ‘<i>Frankwit</i>, I am afraid to venture the +Matrimonial Bondage, it may make you think your self too much confined, +in being only free to one.’ ‘Ah! my dear <i>Belvira</i>,’ he replied, +‘That one, like <i>Manna</i>, has the Taste of all, why should I be +displeased to be confined to Paradice, when it was the Curse of our +Forefathers to be set at large, tho’ they had the whole World to roam +in: You have, my love, ubiquitary Charms, and you are all in all, in +every Part.’ ‘Ay, but,’ reply’d <i>Belvira</i>, ‘we are all like +Perfumes, and too continual Smelling makes us seem to have lost our +Sweets, I’ll be judged by my Cousin <i>Celesia</i> here, if it be not +better to live still in mutual Love, without the last Enjoyment.’ +(I had forgot to tell my Reader that <i>Celesia</i> was an Heiress, +the only Child of a rich <i>Turkey</i> Merchant, who, when he dyed, left +her Fifty thousand Pound in Money, and some Estate in Land; but, poor +Creature, she was Blind to all these Riches, having been born without +the use of Sight, though in all other Respects charming to a wonder.) +‘Indeed,’ says <i>Celesia</i>, (for she saw clearly in her Mind) +‘I admire you should ask my Judgment in such a Case, where I have +never had the least Experience; but I believe it is but a sickly Soul +which cannot nourish its Offspring of Desires without preying upon the +Body.’ ‘Believe me,’ reply’d <i>Frankwit</i>, ‘I bewail your want of +Sight, and I could almost wish you my own Eyes for a Moment, to view +your charming Cousin, where you would see such Beauties as are too +dazling to be long beheld; and if too daringly you gazed, you would feel +the Misfortune of the loss of Sight, much +<span class = "pagenum">406</span> +greater than the want of it: And you would acknowledge, that in too +presumptuously seeing, you would be blinder then, than now unhappily you +are.’</p> + +<p>‘Ah! I must confess,’ reply’d <i>Belvira</i>, ‘my poor, dear Cousin +is Blind, for I fancy she bears too great an Esteem for <i>Frankwit</i>, +and only longs for Sight to look on him.’ ‘Indeed,’ reply’d +<i>Celesia</i>, ‘I would be glad to see <i>Frankwit</i>, for I fancy +he’s as dazling, as he but now describ’d his Mistress, and if I fancy I +see him, sure I do see him, for Sight is Fancy, is it not? or do you +feel my Cousin with your Eyes?’ ‘This is indeed, a charming +Blindness,’ reply’d <i>Frankwit</i>, ‘and the fancy of your Sight excels +the certainty of ours. Strange! that there should be such Glances even +in blindness? You, fair Maid, require not Eyes to conquer, if your Night +has such Stars, what Sunshine would your Day of Sight have, if ever you +should see?’ ‘I fear those Stars you talk of,’ said <i>Belvira</i>, +‘have some Influence on you, and by the Compass you sail by now, +I guess you are steering to my Cousin. She is indeed charming +enough to have been another Offspring of bright <i>Venus</i>, Blind like +her Brother <i>Cupid</i>.’ ‘That <i>Cupid</i>,’ reply’d <i>Celesia</i>, +‘I am afraid has shot me, for methinks I would not have you marry +<i>Frankwit</i>, but rather live as you do without the last Enjoyment, +for methinks if he were marry’d, he would be more out of Sight than he +already is.’ ‘Ah, Madam,’ return’d <i>Frankwit</i>, ‘Love is no +Camelion, it cannot feed on Air alone.’ ‘No but,’ rejoyn’d +<i>Celesia</i>, ‘you Lovers that are not Blind like Love it self, have +am’rous Looks to feed on.’ ‘Ah! believe it,’ said <i>Belvira</i>, ‘’tis +better, <i>Frankwit</i>, not to lose Paradice by too much Knowledge; +Marriage Enjoyments does but wake you from your sweet golden Dreams: +Pleasure is but a Dream, dear <i>Frankwit</i>, but a Dream, and to be +waken’d.’ ‘Ah! Dearest, but unkind <i>Belvira</i>,’ answer’d +<i>Frankwit</i>, ‘sure there’s no waking from Delight, in being lull’d +on those soft Breasts of thine.’ ‘Alas! (reply’d the +<span class = "pagenum">407</span> +Bride to be) it is that very lulling wakes you; Women enjoy’d, are +like Romances read, or Raree-shows once seen, meer Tricks of the slight +of Hand, which, when found out, you only wonder at your selves for +wondering so before at them. ’Tis Expectation endears the Blessing; +Heaven would not be Heaven, could we tell what ’tis. When the Plot’s out +you have done with the Play, and when the last Act’s done, you see the +Curtain drawn with great indifferency.’ ‘O my <i>Belvira</i>’, +answered <i>Frankwit</i>, ‘that Expectation were indeed a Monster which +Enjoyment could not satisfy: I should take no pleasure,’ he +rejoin’d, ‘running from Hill to Hill, like Children chasing that Sun, +which I could never catch.’ ‘O thou shalt have it then, that Sun of +Love,’ reply’d <i>Belvira</i>, fir’d by this Complaint, and gently +rush’d into Arms, (rejoyn’d) so <i>Phœbus</i> rushes radiant and +unsullied, into a gilded Cloud. ‘Well then, my dear <i>Belvira</i>,’ +answered <i>Frankwit</i>, ‘be assured I shall be ever yours, as you are +mine; fear not you shall never draw Bills of Love upon me so fast, as I +shall wait in readiness to pay them; but now I talk of Bills, +I must retire into <i>Cambridgeshire</i>, where I have a small +Concern as yet unmortgaged, I will return thence with a Brace of +thousand Pounds within a Week at furthest, with which our Nuptials, by +their Celebration, shall be worthy of our Love. And then, my Life, my +Soul, we shall be join’d, never to part again.’ This tender Expression +mov’d <i>Belvira</i> to shed some few Tears, and poor <i>Celesia</i> +thought herself most unhappy that she had not Eyes to weep with too; but +if she had, such was the greatness of her Grief, that sure she would +have soon grown Blind with weeping. In short, after a great many soft +Vows, and Promises of an inviolable Faith, they parted with a pompous +sort of pleasing Woe; their Concern was of such a mixture of Joy and +Sadness, as the Weather seems, when it both rains and shines. And now +the last, the very last Adieu’s was over, for the Farewels of Lovers +<span class = "pagenum">408</span> +hardly ever end, and <i>Frankwit</i> (the Time being Summer) reach’d +<i>Cambridge</i> that Night, about Nine a Clock; (Strange! that he +should have made such Haste to fly from what so much he lov’d!) and now, +tir’d with the fatigue of his Journey, he thought fit to refresh himself +by writing some few Lines to his belov’d <i>Belvira</i>; for a little +Verse after the dull Prose Company of his Servant, was as great an Ease +to him, (from whom it flow’d as naturally and unartificially, as his +Love or his Breath) as a Pace or Hand-gallop, after a hard, uncouth, and +rugged Trot. He therefore, finding his <i>Pegasus</i> was no way tir’d +with his Land-travel, takes a short Journey thro’ the Air, and writes as +follows:</p> + +<p class = "salutation"> +<i>My dearest dear <em>Belvira</em>,</i></p> + +<div class = "poem"> +<p>YOU knew my Soul, you knew it yours before,</p> +<p>I told it all, and now can tell no more;</p> +<table class = "bracket" summary = "rhymed triplets"> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Your Presents never wants fresh Charms to move,</p> +<p>But now more strange, and unknown Pow’r you prove,</p> +<p>For now your very Absence ’tis I love.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<p>Something there is which strikes my wandring View,</p> +<p>And still before my Eyes I fancy you.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Charming you seem, all charming, heavenly fair,</p> +<p>Bright as a Goddess, does my Love appear,</p> +<p>You seem, <i>Belvira</i>, what indeed you are.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<p>Like the Angelick Off-spring of the Skies,</p> +<p>With beatifick Glories in your Eyes:</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Sparkling with radiant Lustre all Divine,</p> +<p>Angels, and Gods! oh Heavens! how bright they shine!</p> +<p>Are you <i>Belvira</i>? can I think you mine!</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<p>Beyond ev’n Thought, I do thy Beauties see,</p> +<p>Can such a Heaven of Heavens be kept for me!</p> +<p>Oh be assur’d, I shall be ever true,</p> +<p>I must<span class = "dash">——</span></p> +<p>For if I would, I can’t be false to you.</p> +<span class = "pagenum">409</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Oh! how I wish I might no longer stay,</p> +<p>Tho’ I resolve I will no Time delay,</p> +<p>One Tedious Week, and then I’ll fleet away.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Tho’ Love be blind, he shall conduct my Road,</p> +<p>Wing’d with almighty Love, to your Abode,</p> +<p>I’ll fly, and grow Immortal as a God.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<p>Short is my stay, yet my impatience strong,</p> +<p>Short tho’ it is, alas! I think it long.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>I’ll come, my Life, new Blessings to pursue,</p> +<p>Love then shall fly a Flight he never flew,</p> +<p>I’ll stretch his balmy Wings; I’m yours,—<i>Adieu</i>.</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p class = "right"> +<i>Frankwit.</i></p> + +<p>This Letter <i>Belvira</i> receiv’d with unspeakable Joy, and laid it +up safely in her Bosom; laid it, where the dear Author of it lay before, +and wonderfully pleas’d with his Humour of writing Verse, resolv’d not +to be at all behind-hand with him, and so writ as follows:</p> + +<p class = "salutation"> +<i>My dear Charmer,</i></p> + +<div class = "poem"> +<p>YOU knew before what Power your Love could boast,</p> +<p>But now your constant Faith confirms me most.</p> +<table class = "bracket" summary = "rhymed triplets"> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Absent Sincerity the best assures,</p> +<p>Love may do much, but Faith much more allures,</p> +<p>For now your Constancy has bound me yours.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td> +<p>I find, methinks, in Verse some Pleasure too,</p> +<p>I cannot want a Muse, who write to you.</p> +<p>Ah! soon return, return, my charming Dear,</p> +<p>Heav’n knows how much we Mourn your Absence here:</p> +<p>My poor <i>Celesia</i> now would Charm your Soul,</p> +<p>Her Eyes, once Blind, do now Divinely rowl.</p> +<p>An aged Matron has by Charms unknown,</p> +<p>Given her clear Sight as perfect as thy own.</p> +<p>And yet, beyond her Eyes, she values thee,</p> +<p>’Tis for thy Sake alone she’s glad to see.</p> +<span class = "pagenum">410</span> +<p>She begg’d me, pray remember her to you,</p> +<p>That is a Task which now I gladly do.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class = "bracket"> +<p>Gladly, since so I only recommend</p> +<p>A dear Relation, and a dearer Friend,</p> +<p>Ne’re shall my Love—but here my Note must end.</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p class = "right"> +<i>Your ever true <em>Belvira</em>.</i></p> + +<p>When this Letter was written, it was strait shown to <i>Celesia</i>, +who look’d upon any Thing that belong’d to <i>Frankwit</i>, with +rejoycing Glances; so eagerly she perus’d it, that her tender Eyes +beginning to Water, she cry’d out, (fancying she saw the Words dance +before her View) ‘Ah! Cousin, Cousin, your Letter is running away, sure +it can’t go itself to <i>Frankwit</i>.’ A great Deal of other pleasing +innocent Things she said, but still her Eyes flow’d more bright with +lustrous Beams, as if they were to shine out; now all that glancing +Radiancy which had been so long kept secret, and, as if, as soon as the +Cloud of Blindness once was broke, nothing but Lightnings were to flash +for ever after. Thus in mutual Discourse they spent their Hours, while +<i>Frankwit</i> was now ravished with the Receipt of this charming +Answer of <i>Belvira’s</i>, and blest his own Eyes which discovered to +him the much welcome News of fair <i>Celesia’s</i>. Often he read the +Letters o’re and o’re, but there his Fate lay hid, for <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘twas’ without apostrophe">’twas</ins> +that very Fondness proved his Ruin. He lodg’d at a Cousin’s House of +his, and there, (it being a private Family) lodged likewise a +Blackamoor Lady, then a Widower; a whimsical Knight had taken a +Fancy to enjoy her: <i>Enjoy her did I say? Enjoy the Devil in the Flesh +at once!</i> I know not how it was, but he would fain have been a Bed +with her, but she not consenting on unlawful Terms, (<i>but sure all +Terms are with her unlawful</i>) the Knight soon marry’d her, as if +there were not hell enough in Matrimony, but he must wed the Devil too. +The Knight a little after died, and left this Lady of his (whom I shall +<i>Moorea</i>) an Estate of six thousand +<span class = "pagenum">411</span> +Pounds <i>per Ann</i>. Now this <i>Moorea</i> observed the joyous +<i>Frankwit</i> with an eager Look, her Eyes seemed like Stars of the +first Magnitude glaring in the Night; she greatly importuned him to +discover the Occasion of his transport, but he denying it, (as ’tis +the Humour of our Sex) made her the more Inquisitive; and being Jealous +that it was from a Mistress, employ’d her Maid to steal it, and if she +found it such, to bring it her: accordingly it succeeded, for +<i>Frankwit</i> having drank hard with some of the Gentlemen of that +Shire, found himself indisposed, and soon went to Bed, having put the +Letter in his Pocket: The Maid therefore to <i>Moorea</i> contrived that +all the other Servants should be out of the Way, that she might +plausibly officiate in the Warming the Bed of the indisposed Lover, but +likely, had it not been so, she had warmed it by his Intreaties in a +more natural Manner; he being in Bed in an inner Room, she slips out the +Letter from his Pocket, carries it to her Mistress to read, and so +restores it whence she had it; in the Morning the poor Lover wakened in +a violent Fever, burning with a Fire more hot than that of Love. In +short, he continued Sick a considerable while, all which time the Lady +<i>Moorea</i> constantly visited him, and he as unwillingly saw her +(poor Gentleman) as he would have seen a Parson; for as the latter would +have perswaded, so the former scared him to Repentance. In the mean +while, during his sickness, several Letters were sent to him by his dear +<i>Belvira</i>, and <i>Celesia</i> too, (then learning to write) had +made a shift to give him a line or two in Postscript with her Cousin, +but all was intercepted by the jealousy of the Black <i>Moorea</i>, +black in her mind, and dark, as well as in her body. <i>Frankwit</i> too +writ several Letters as he was able, complaining of her unkindness, +those likewise were all stopt by the same Blackmoor Devil. At last, it +happened that <i>Wildvill</i>, (who I told my Reader was +<i>Frankwit’s</i> friend) came to <i>London</i>, his Father likewise +dead, and now Master of a very plentiful fortune, +<span class = "pagenum">412</span> +he resolves to marry, and paying a visit to <i>Belvira</i>, enquires of +her concerning <i>Frankwit</i>, she all in mourning for the loss, told +him his friend was dead. ‘Ah! <i>Wildvill</i>, he is dead,’ said she, +‘and died not mine, a Blackmoor Lady had bewitched him from me; +I received a Letter lately which informed me all; there was no name +subscribed to it, but it intimated, that it was written at the request +of dying <i>Frankwit</i>.’ ‘Oh! I am sorry at my Soul,’ said +<i>Wildvill</i>, ‘for I loved him with the best, the dearest friendship; +no doubt then,’ rejoyned he, ‘’tis Witchcaft indeed that could make him +false to you; what delight could he take in a Blackmoor Lady, tho’ she +had received him at once with a Soul as open as her longing arms, and +with her Petticoat put off her modesty. Gods! How could he change a +whole <i>Field Argent</i> into downright <i>Sables</i>.’ ‘’Twas done,’ +returned <i>Celesia</i>, ‘with no small blot, I fancy, to the +Female ’Scutcheon.’ In short, after some more discourse, but very +sorrowful, <i>Wildvill</i> takes his leave, extreamly taken with the +fair <i>Belvira</i>, more beauteous in her cloud of woe; he paid her +afterwards frequent visits, and found her wonder for the odd inconstancy +of <i>Frankwit</i>, greater than her sorrow, since he dy’d so unworthy +of her. <i>Wildvill</i> attack’d her with all the force of vigorous +love, and she (as she thought) fully convinc’d of <i>Frankwit’s</i> +death, urg’d by the fury and impatience of her new ardent Lover, soon +surrender’d, and the day of their Nuptials now arriv’d, their hands were +joyn’d. In the mean time <i>Frankwit</i> (for he still liv’d) knew +nothing of the Injury the base <i>Moorea</i> practis’d, knew not that +’twas thro’ her private order, that the fore-mention’d account of his +falshood and his death was sent; but impatient to see his Dear +<i>Belvira</i>, tho’ yet extremely weak, rid post to <i>London</i>, and +that very day arriv’d there, immediately after the Nuptials of his +Mistress and his Friend were celebrated. I was at this time in +<i>Cambridge</i>, and having some small acquaintance with this Blackmoor +Lady, and sitting in her Room that +<span class = "pagenum">413</span> +evening, after <i>Frankwit’s</i> departure thence, in <i>Moorea’s</i> +absence, saw inadvertently a bundle of Papers, which she had gathered +up, as I suppose, to burn, since now they grew but useless, she having +no farther Hopes of him: I fancy’d I knew the Hand, and thence my +Curiosity only led me to see the Name and finding <i>Belvira</i> +subscrib’d, I began to guess there was some foul play in Hand. +<i>Belvira</i> being my particularly intimate Acquaintance, I read +one of them, and finding the Contents, convey’d them all secretly out +with me, as I thought, in Point of Justice I was bound, and sent them to +<i>Belvira</i> by that Night’s Post; so that they came to her Hands soon +after the Minute of her Marriage, with an Account how, and by what Means +I came to light on them. No doubt but they exceedingly surpriz’d her: +But Oh! Much more she grew amaz’d immediately after, to see the Poor, +and now unhappy <i>Frankwit</i>, who privately had enquir’d for her +below, being received as a Stranger, who said he had some urgent +Business with her, in a back Chamber below Stairs. What Tongue, what Pen +can express the mournful Sorrow of this Scene! At first they both stood +Dumb, and almost Senseless; she took him for the Ghost of +<i>Frankwit</i>; he looked so pale, new risen from his Sickness, he (for +he had heard at his Entrance in the House, that his <i>Belvira</i> +marry’d <i>Wildvill</i>) stood in Amaze, and like a Ghost indeed, wanted +the Power to speak, till spoken to the first. At last, he draws his +Sword, designing there to fall upon it in her Presence; she then +imagining it his Ghost too sure, and come to kill her, shrieks out and +Swoons; he ran immediately to her, and catch’d her in his Arms, and +while he strove to revive and bring her to herself, tho’ that he thought +could never now be done, since she was marry’d. <i>Wildvill</i> missing +his Bride, and hearing the loud Shriek, came running down, and entring +the Room, sees his Bride lie clasp’d in <i>Frankwit’s</i> Arms. ‘Ha! +Traytor!’ He cries out, drawing his Sword with an +<span class = "pagenum">414</span> +impatient Fury, ‘have you kept that Strumpet all this while, curst +<i>Frankwit</i>, and now think fit to put your damn’d cast Mistress upon +me: could not you forbear her neither ev’n on my Wedding Day? abominable +Wretch!’ Thus saying, he made a full Pass at <i>Frankwit</i>, and run +him thro’ the left Arm, and quite thro’ the Body of the poor +<i>Belvira</i>; that thrust immediately made her start, tho’ +<i>Frankwit’s</i> Endeavours all before were useless. Strange! that her +Death reviv’d her! For ah! she felt, that now she only liv’d to die! +Striving thro’ wild Amazement to run from such a Scene of Horror, as her +Apprehensions shew’d her; down she dropt, and <i>Frankwit</i> seeing her +fall, (all Friendship disannull’d by such a Chain of Injuries) Draws, +fights with, and stabs his own loved <i>Wildvill</i>. Ah! Who can +express the Horror and Distraction of this fatal Misunderstanding! The +House was alarm’d, and in came poor <i>Celesia</i>, running in Confusion +just as <i>Frankwit</i> was off’ring to kill himself, to die with a +false Friend, and perjur’d Mistress, for he suppos’d them such. Poor +<i>Celesia</i> now bemoan’d her unhappiness of sight, and wish’d she +again were blind. <i>Wildvill</i> dy’d immediately, and <i>Belvira</i> +only surviv’d him long enough to unfold all their most unhappy fate, +desiring <i>Frankwit</i> with her dying breath, if ever he lov’d her, +(and now she said that she deserv’d his love, since she had convinced +him that she was not false) to marry her poor dear <i>Celesia</i>, and +love her tenderly for her <i>Belvira’s</i> sake; leaving her, being her +nearest Relation, all her fortune, and he, much dearer than it all, to +be added to her own; so joyning his and <i>Celesia’s</i> Hands, she +poured her last breath upon his Lips, and said, ‘Dear <i>Frankwit</i>, +<i>Frankwit</i>, I die yours.’ With tears and wondrous sorrow he +promis’d to obey her Will, and in some months after her interrment, he +perform’d his promise.</p> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "unfortunate_notes" id = "unfortunate_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Unfortunate Bride.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "unfortunate_comm1" id = "unfortunate_comm1" href = +"#unfortunate_dedic">p. 401</a> +<i>To Richard Norton.</i> This Epistle Dedicatory is only to be found in +the first edition of <i>The Unfortunate Bride; or, The Blind Lady a +Beauty</i>, ‘Printed for Samuel Briscoe, in Charles-Street, +Covent-Garden, 1698’, and also dated, on title page facing the portrait +of Mrs. Behn, 1700.</p> + +<p>Southwick, Hants, is a parish and village some 1¾ miles from +Portchester, 4½ from Fareham. Richard Norton was son and heir of Sir +Daniel Norton, who died seised of the manor in 1636. Richard +<span class = "pagenum">523</span> +Norton married Anne, daughter of Sir William Earle, by whom he had one +child, Sarah. He was, in his county at least, a figure of no little +importance. Tuesday, 12 August, 1701, Luttrell records that ‘an addresse +from the grand jury of Hampshire . . . was delivered by +Richard Norton and Anthony Henly, esqs. to the lords justices, to be +laid before his majestie.’ He aimed at being a patron of the fine arts, +and under his superintendence Dryden’s <i>The Spanish Friar</i> was +performed in the frater of Southwick Priory,<a class = "tag" name = +"tag_unfortunate_1" id = "tag_unfortunate_1" href = +"#note_unfortunate_1">1</a> the buildings of which had not been entirely +destroyed at the suppression. Colley Cibber addresses the Dedicatory +Epistle (January, 1695) of his first play, <i>Love’s Last Shift</i> +(4to, 1696), to Norton in a highly eulogistic strain. The plate of +Southwick Church (S. James), consisting of a communion cup, +a standing paten, two flagons, an alms-dish, and a rat-tail spoon, +is silver-gilt, and was presented by Richard Norton in 1691. He died 10 +December, 1732.</p> + +<p class = "footnote"> +<a class = "tag" name = "note_unfortunate_1" id = "note_unfortunate_1" +href = "#tag_unfortunate_1">1</a> +The house was one of Black (Austin) Canons.</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">415</span> +<a name = "dumb_virgin" id = "dumb_virgin"> </a> + + +<h3>THE DUMB VIRGIN; OR,<br> +THE FORCE OF IMAGINATION.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">417</span> + +<h4><a name = "dumb_intro" id = "dumb_intro"> +INTRODUCTION.</a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">Consanguinity</span> and love which are +treated in this novel so romantically and with such tragic catastrophe +had already been dealt with in happier mood by Mrs. Behn in <i>The Dutch +Lover</i>. <i>Vide</i> Note on the Source of that play, Vol. I, +p. 218. +<a class = "crossref" href = "#dumb_crossref"> +Cross-Reference: <i>The Dutch Lover</i>, Sources.</a></p> + +<p>In classic lore the Œdipus Saga enthralled the imagination of +antiquity and inspired dramas amongst the world’s masterpieces. Later +forms of the tale may be found in Suidas and Cedrenus.</p> + +<p>The Legend of St. Gregory, based on a similar theme, the hero of +which, however, is innocent throughout, was widely diffused through +mediæval Europe. It forms No. 81 of the <i>Gesta Romanorum</i>. There is +an old English poem<a class = "tag" name = "tag_dumb_1" id = +"tag_dumb_1" href = "#note_dumb_1">1</a> on the subject, and it also +received lyric treatment at the hands of the German meistersinger, +Hartmann von Aue. An Italian story, <i>Il Figliuolo di germani</i>, the +chronicle of St. Albinus, and the Servian romaunt of the Holy Foundling +Simeon embody similar circumstances.</p> + +<p>Matteo Bandello, Part II, has a famous<a class = "tag" name = +"tag_dumb_2" id = "tag_dumb_2" href = "#note_dumb_2">2</a> novel (35) +with rubric, ‘un gentiluomo navarrese sposa una, che era sua sorella e +figliuola, non lo sapendo,’ which is almost exactly the same as the +thirtieth story of the <i>Heptameron</i>. As the good Bishop declares +that it was related to him by a lady living in the district, it is +probable that some current tradition furnished both him and the Queen of +Navarre with these horrible incidents and that neither copied from the +other.<a class = "tag" name = "tag_dumb_3" id = "tag_dumb_3" href = +"#note_dumb_3">3</a></p> + +<p>Bandello was imitated in Spanish by J. Perez de Montalvan, <i>Sucesos +y Prodigios de Amor—La Mayor confusion</i>; in Latin by +D. Otho Melander; and he also gave Desfontaines the subject of +<i>L’Inceste Innocent; Histoire Véritable</i> (Paris, 1644). +A similar tale is touched upon in <i>Amadis de Gaule</i>, and in a +later century we find <i>Le Criminel sans le Savoir, Roman Historique et +Poëtique</i> (Amsterdam and Paris, 1783). It is also found in Brevio’s +<i>Rime e Prose</i>; Volgari, novella iv; and in T. Grapulo +(or Grappolino), <i>Il Convito Borghesiano</i> (Londra, 1800). +A cognate legend is <i>Le Dit du Buef</i> and <i>Le Dit de la +Bourjosee de Rome</i>. (ed. Jubinal, <i>Nouveau Recueil</i>; and +<i>Nouveau Recueil du Sénateur de Rome . . .</i> ed. Méon.) +Again: the <i>Leggenda di Vergogna, etc. testi del buon secolo in prosa +e in verso</i>, edited by A. D’Ancona (Bologna, 1869) repeats the +same catastrophe. It is also related in Byshop’s <i>Blossoms</i>.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">418</span> +<p>In Luther’s <i>Colloquia Mensalia</i>, under the article ‘Auricular +Confession’, the occurrence is said to have taken place at Erfurt in +Germany. Julio de Medrano, a Spanish writer of the sixteenth +century, says that a similar story was related to him when he was in the +Bourbonnois, where the inhabitants pointed out the house which had been +the scene of these morbid passions. France, indeed, seems to have been +the home of the tradition, and Le Roux de Lincy in the notes to his +excellent edition of the <i>Heptameron</i> quotes from Millin, +<i>Antiquités Nationales</i> (t. iii. f. xxviii. p. 6.) +who, speaking of the Collegiate Church of Ecouis, says that in the midst +of the nave there was a prominent white marbel tablet with this +epitaph:—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p>Cy-gist la fille, cy-gist le père,</p> +<p>Cy-gist la soeur, cy-gist le frère;</p> +<p>Cy-gist la femme, et le mary,</p> +<p>Et si n’y a que deux corps icy.</p> +</div> + +<p>The tradition ran that a son of ‘Madame d’Ecouis avait eu de sa mère +sans la connaître et sans en être reconnu une fille nommée Cécile. Il +épousa ensuite en Lorraine cette même Cécile qui était auprès de la +Duchesse de Bar . . . Il furent enterrés dans le même tombeau +en 1512 à Ecouis.’ An old sacristan used to supply curious visitors to +the church with a leaflet detailing the narrative. The same story is +attached to other parishes, and at Alincourt, a village between +Amiens and Abbeville, the following lines are inscribed upon a +grave:—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +<p>Ci git le fils, ci git la mère,</p> +<p>Ci git la fille avec le père,</p> +<p>Ci git la soeur, ci git le frère,</p> +<p>Ci git la femme et le mari,</p> +<p>Et ne sont pas que trois corps ici.</p> +</div> + +<p>When Walpole wrote his tragedy, <i>The Mysterious Mother</i> (1768), +he states he had no knowledge of Bandello or the <i>Heptameron</i>, but +he gives the following account of the origin of his theme. ‘I had +heard when very young, that a gentlewoman, under uncommon agonies of +mind, had waited on Archbishop Tillotson and besought his counsel. +A damsel that served her had, many years before, acquainted her +that she was importuned by the gentlewoman’s son to grant him a private +meeting. The mother ordered the maiden to make the assignation, when she +said she would discover herself and reprimand him for his criminal +passion; but, being hurried away by a much more criminal passion +herself, she kept the assignation without discovering herself. The fruit +of this horrid artifice was a daughter, whom the gentlewoman caused to +be educated very privately in the country; but proving very lovely and +being accidentally met by her father-brother, who never had the +slightest suspicion of the truth, he had fallen in love with and +actually married her. The wretched guilty mother learning what had +happened, and distracted with the consequence of her crime, had now +resorted to the Archbishop to know in what manner she should act. The +prelate charged her never to let her son and daughter know what had +passed, as they were innocent of any criminal intention. For herself, he +bad her almost despair.’</p> + +<p>The same story occurs in the writings of the famous Calvinistic +divine, +<span class = "pagenum">419</span> +William Perkins (1558-1602), sometime Rector of St. Andrew’s, Cambridge. +Thence it was extracted for <i>The Spectator</i>.</p> + +<p>In Mat Lewis’ ghoulish romance, <i>The Monk</i> (1796) it will be +remembered that Ambrosio, after having enjoyed Antonia, to whose +bedchamber he has gained admittance by demoniacal aid, discovers that +she is his sister, and heaping crime upon crime to sorcery and rape he +has added incest.</p> + +<p>There is a tragic little novel, ‘<i>The Illegal Lovers; a True Secret +History.</i> Being an Amour Between A Person of Condition and his +Sister. Written by One who did reside in the Family.’ (8vo, 1728.) After +the death of his wife, Bellario falls in love with his sister Lindamira. +Various sentimental letters pass between the two, and eventually +Bellario in despair pistols himself. The lady lives to wed another +admirer. The tale was obviously suggested by the <i>Love Letters between +a Nobleman and his Sister</i>.</p> + +<div class = "footnote"> +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_dumb_1" id = "note_dumb_1" href = +"#tag_dumb_1">1</a> +There are three MSS. <i>Vernon MS.</i>, Oxford, edited by Horstmann; +<i>MS. Cott</i>, <i>Cleop. D. ix</i>, British Museum; <i>Auchinleck +MS.</i>, Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh, edited with glossary by +F. Schultz, 1876.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_dumb_2" id = "note_dumb_2" href = +"#tag_dumb_2">2</a> +cf. Masuccio. <i>Il Novellino</i>, No. 23.</p> + +<p><a class = "tag" name = "note_dumb_3" id = "note_dumb_3" href = +"#tag_dumb_3">3</a> +Bandello’s novels first appeared at Lucca, 4to, 1554. Marguerite of +Angoulême died 21 December, 1549. The <i>Heptameron</i> was composed +1544-8 and published 1558.</p> +</div> + + + +<span class = "pagenum">420</span> + +<h4><a name = "dumb_main" id = "dumb_main"> +THE DUMB VIRGIN:</a><br> +or, the Force of Imagination.</h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword"><i>Rinaldo</i></span>, a Senator of the +great City <i>Venice</i>, by a plentiful Inheritance, and industrious +Acquisitions, was become Master of a very plentiful Estate; which, by +the Countenance of his Family, sprung from the best Houses in +<i>Italy</i>, had rendred him extreamly popular and honoured; he had +risen to the greatest Dignities of that State, all which Offices he +discharged with Wisdom and Conduct, befitting the Importance of his +Charge, and Character of the Manager; but this great Person had some +Accident in his Children, sufficient to damp all the Pleasure of his +more smiling Fortunes; he married when young, a beautiful and +virtuous Lady, who had rendred him the happy Father of a Son; but his +Joys were soon disturbed by the following Occasion.</p> + +<p>There stands an Island in the <i>Adriatick</i> Sea, about twenty +Leagues from <i>Venice</i>, a Place wonderfully pleasant in the +Summer, where Art and Nature seem to out-rival each other, or seem +rather to combine in rendring it the most pleasant of their products; +being placed under the most benign climate in the World, and situated +exactly between <i>Italy</i> and <i>Greece</i>, it appears an entire +Epitome of all the Pleasures in them both; the proper glories of the +Island were not a little augmented by the confluence of Gentlemen and +Ladies of the chiefest Rank in the City, insomuch that this was a +greater mark for Beauty and Gallantry, than <i>Venice</i> for Trade. +Among others <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Lady begged her Husband’s permission to +view this so much celebrated place.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">421</span> +<p>He was unwilling to trust his treasure to the treachery of the watry +element; but repeating her request, he yielded to her desires, his love +not permitting him the least shew of command, and so thro’ its extent, +conspiring its own destruction. His Lady with her young Son (whom she +would not trust from her sight) and a splendid attendance in a Barge +well fitted, sets out for the Island, <i>Rinaldo</i> being detained at +home himself about some important affairs relating to the publick, +committed the care of his dear Wife and Child to a faithful Servant +call’d <i>Gaspar</i>; and for their greater security against Pyrates, +had obtained his Brother, who commanded a <i>Venetian</i> Galley, to +attend them as Convoy. In the evening they set out from <i>Venice</i>, +with a prosperous gale, but a storm arising in the night, soon separated +the Barge from her Convoy, and before morning drove her beyond the +designed Port, when, instead of discovering the wish’d-for Island, they +could see a <i>Turkish</i> Pyrate bearing towards them, with all her +Sail; their late apprehensions of Shipwrack, were drowned in the greater +danger of Captivity and lasting Slavery, their fears drove some into +resolutions as extravagant as the terrors that caused them, but the +confusion of all was so tumultuous, and the designs so various, that +nothing could be put in execution for the publick safety; the greatest +share of the passengers being Ladies, added strangely to the +consternation; beauty always adds a pomp to woe, and by its splendid +show, makes sorrow look greater and more moving. Some by their piteous +plaints and wailings proclaimed their griefs aloud, whilst others +bespoke their sorrows more emphatically by sitting mournfully silent; +the fears of some animated them to extravagant actions, whilst the +terrors of others were so mortifying, that they shewed no sign of Life, +but by their trembling; some mourned the rigour of their proper fate, +others conscious of the sorrows their Friends and Relations should +sustain through their loss, made the griefs of them their own; +<span class = "pagenum">422</span> +but the heaviest load of misfortunes lay on <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Lady, +besides the loss of her liberty, the danger of her honour, the +separation from her dear Husband, the care for her tender Infant wrought +rueful distractions; she caught her Child in her Arms, and with Tears +extorted thro’ Fear and Affection, she deplor’d the Misfortune of her +Babe, the pretty Innocent smiling in the Embraces of its Mother, shew’d +that Innocence cou’d deride the Persecution of Fortune; at length she +delivered the Infant into the Hand of <i>Gasper</i>, begging him to use +all Endeavours in its Preservation, by owning it for his, when they fell +into the Hands of the Enemy.</p> + +<p>But <i>Gasper</i>, who amidst the universal Consternation, had a +peculiar Regard to his own Safety, and Master’s Interest, undertook a +Design desperately brave. Two long Planks, which lay lengthwise in the +Barge, as Seats, he had ty’d together with Ropes, and taking the Infant +from the Mother, whilst the whole Vessel was in a distracted Confusion, +he fast’ned it to the Planks, and shoving both over-board before him, +plung’d into the Sea after, dragging the Planks that bore the Infant +with one Hand, and swimming with t’other, making the next Land; he had +swam about two hundred Paces from the Barge before his Exploit was +discover’d, but then the Griefs of <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Lady were doubly +augmented, seeing her Infant expos’d to the Fury of the merciless Winds +and Waves, which she then judged more rigorous than the <i>Turks</i>; +for to a weak Mind, that Danger works still the strongest, that’s most +in View; but when the Pirate, who by this time had fetch’d them within +Shot, began to Fire, she seem’d pleas’d that her Infant was out of that +Hazard, tho’ exposed to a greater. Upon their Sign of yielding, the +<i>Turk</i> launching out her Boat, brought them all on board her; but +she had no time to examine her Booty, being saluted by a Broadside, +vigorously discharg’d from a <i>Venetian</i> Galley, which bore down +upon them, whilst they were taking aboard their +<span class = "pagenum">423</span> +Spoil; this Galley was that commanded by <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Brother, which +cruising that Way in quest of the Barge, happily engag’d the +<i>Turk</i>, before they had Leisure to offer any Violence to the +Ladies, and plying her warmly the Space of two Hours, made her a Prize, +to the inexpressible Joy of the poor Ladies, who all this time under +Hatches, had sustain’d the Horrors of ten thousand Deaths by dreading +one.</p> + +<p>All the greater Dangers over, <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Lady began to reflect +on the strange Riddle of her Son’s Fortune, who by shunning one Fate, +had (in all Probability) fallen into a worse, for they were above +ten Leagues from any Land, and the Sea still retain’d a Roughness, +unsettled since the preceeding Storm; she therefore begg’d her +Brother-in-Law to Sail with all Speed in Search of her Son and +<i>Gasper</i>; but all in vain, for cruising that Day, and the +succeeding Night along the Coasts, without making any Discovery of what +they sought, he sent a Boat to be inform’d by the Peasants, of any such +Landing upon their Coast; but they soon had a dismal Account, finding +the Body of <i>Gasper</i> thrown dead on the Sand, and near to him the +Planks, the unhappy Occasion of his Flight, and the Faithless Sustainers +of the Infant. So thinking these mournful Objects Testimonies enough of +the Infant’s Loss, they return’d with the doleful Relation to their +Captain and the Lady; her Grief at the recital of the Tragic Story, had +almost transported her to Madness; what Account must she now make to the +mournful Father, who esteem’d this Child the chief Treasure of his Life; +she fear’d, that she might forfeit the Affection of a Husband, by being +the unfortunate Cause of so great a Loss; but her Fears deceiv’d her, +for altho’ her Husband, receiv’d her with great Grief, ’twas +nevertheless moderated by the Patience of a Christian, and the Joy for +recovering his beloved Lady.</p> + +<p>This Misfortune was soon lessen’d by the growing Hopes of another +Off-spring, which made them divest their +<span class = "pagenum">424</span> +Mourning, to make Preparations for the joyful Reception of this new +Guest into the World; and upon its Appearance their Sorrows were +redoubled, ’twas a Daughter, its Limbs were distorted, its Back bent, +and tho’ the face was the freest from Deformity, yet had it no Beauty to +Recompence the Dis-symetry of the other Parts; Physicians being +consulted in this Affair, derived the Cause from the Frights and dismal +Apprehensions of the Mother, at her being taken by the Pyrates; about +which time they found by Computation, the Conception of the Child to be; +the Mother grew very Melancholy, rarely speaking, and not to be +comforted by any Diversion. She conceiv’d again, but no hopes of better +Fortune cou’d decrease her Grief, which growing with her Burden, eased +her of both at once, for she died in Child-birth, and left the most +beautiful Daughter to the World that ever adorn’d <i>Venice</i>, but +naturally and unfortunately Dumb, which defect the learn’d attributed to +the Silence and Melancholy of the Mother, as the Deformity of the other +was to the Extravagance of her Frights.</p> + +<p><i>Rinaldo</i>, waving all Intentions of a second Marriage, directs +his Thoughts to the Care of his Children, their Defects not lessening +his Inclination, but stirring up his Endeavours in supplying the +Defaults of Nature by the Industry of Art; he accordingly makes the +greatest Provision for their Breeding and Education, which prov’d so +effectual in a little Time, that their Progress was a greater Prodigy +than themselves.</p> + +<p>The Eldest, called <i>Belvideera</i>, was indefatigably addicted to +Study, which she had improv’d so far, that by the sixteenth Year of her +Age, she understood all the <i>European</i> Languages, and cou’d speak +most of’em, but was particularly pleas’d with the <i>English</i>, which +gave me the Happiness of many Hours Conversation with her; and I may +ingenuously declare, ’twas the most Pleasant I ever enjoy’d, for besides +a piercing Wit, and depth of Understanding peculiar to +<span class = "pagenum">425</span> +herself, she delivered her Sentiments with that easiness and grace of +Speech, that it charm’d all her Hearers.</p> + +<p>The Beauties of the second Sister, nam’d <i>Maria</i>, grew with her +Age, every twelve Months saluting her with a New-years Gift of some +peculiar Charm; her Shapes were fine set off with a graceful and easy +Carriage; the Majesty and Softness of her Face, at once wrought Love and +Veneration; the Language of her Eyes sufficiently paid the Loss of her +Tongue, and there was something so Commanding in her Look, that it +struck every Beholder as dumb as herself; she was a great Proficient in +Painting, which puts me in mind of a notable Story I can’t omit; her +Father had sent for the most Famous Painter in <i>Italy</i> to draw her +Picture, she accordingly sat for it; he had drawn some of the Features +of her Face; and coming to the Eye, desired her to give him as brisk and +piercing a Glance as she cou’d; but the Vivacity of her Look so +astonished the Painter, that thro’ concern he let his Pencil drop and +spoiled the Picture; he made a second Essay, but with no better Success, +for rising in great Disorder, he swore it impossible to draw that which +he cou’d not look upon; the Lady vexed at the Weakness of the Painter, +took up his Pencils and the Picture, and sitting down to her Glass, +finished it herself; she had improv’d her silent Conversation with her +Sister so far, that she was understood by her, as if she had spoke, and +I remember this Lady was the first I saw use the significative Way of +Discourse by the Fingers; I dare not say ’twas she invented it +(tho’ it probably might have been an Invention of these ingenious +Sisters) but I am positive none before her ever brought it to that +Perfection.</p> + +<p>In the seventeenth of <i>Belvideera’s</i>, and sixteenth Year of +<i>Maria’s</i> Age, <i>Francisco</i>, Brother to <i>Rinaldo</i>, was +made Admiral of the <i>Venetian</i> Fleet, and upon his first Entrance +upon his Command, had obtained a signal Victory over the <i>Turks</i>; +he returning to <i>Venice</i> with Triumph, applause +<span class = "pagenum">426</span> +and spoil, presented to the great Duke a young <i>English</i> Gentleman, +who only as a Volunteer in the Action, had signalized himself very +bravely in the Engagement, but particularly by first boarding the +<i>Turkish</i> Admiral Galley, and killing her Commander hand to hand; +the Fame of this Gentleman soon spread over all <i>Venice</i>, and the +two Sisters sent presently for me, to give an Account of the Exploits of +my Countryman, as their Unkle had recounted it to them; I was +pleas’d to find so great an Example of <i>English</i> Bravery, so far +from Home, and long’d extreamly to converse with him, vainly flattering +myself, that he might have been of my Acquaintance. That very Night +there was a grand Ball and Masquerade at the great Duke’s Palace, for +the most signal Joy of the late Success, thither <i>Belvideera</i> +invited me to Accompany her and <i>Maria</i>, adding withal as a Motive, +that we might there most probably meet, and Discourse with this young +Hero; and equipping me with a Suit of Masquerade, they carried me in +their Coach to the Ball, where we had pass’d half an Hour, when I saw +enter a handsom <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘Gentlemen’">Gentleman</ins> in a rich <i>English</i> Dress; +I show’d him to <i>Belvideera</i>, who moving towards him, with a +gallant Air, slaps him on the Shoulder with her Fan, he turning about, +and viewing her Person, the Defaults of which were not altogether hidden +by her Disguise; ‘Sir, (said he) if you are a Man, know that I am +one, and will not bear Impertinence; but, if you are a Lady, Madam, as I +hope in Heavens you are not, I must inform you, that I am under a +Vow, not to converse with any Female to Night;’ ‘Know then, Sir, +(answered <i>Belvideera</i> very smartly) that I am a Female, and you +have broke your Vow already; but methinks, Sir, the Ladies are very +little oblig’d to your Vow, which wou’d rob them of the Conversation of +so fine a Gentleman.’</p> + +<p>‘Madam, (said the Gentleman) the Sweetness of your Voice bespeaks you +a Lady, and I hope the breaking my Vow will be so far from Damning me, +that I shall thereby +<span class = "pagenum">427</span> +merit Heaven, if I may be blest in your Divine Conversation.’ +<i>Belvideera</i> made such ingenious and smart Repartees to the +Gentleman, who was himself a great Courtier, that he was entirely +captivated with her Wit, insomuch, that he cou’d not refrain making +Protestations of his Passion; he talked about half an Hour in such pure +<i>Italian</i>, that I began to mistrust my <i>Englishman</i>, wherefore +taking some Occasion to jest upon his Habit, I found ’twas only a +Masquerade to cloak a down-right <i>Venetian</i>; in the mean Time, we +perceiv’d a Gentleman Gallantly attir’d with no Disguise but a +<i>Turkish</i> Turbant on, the richliest beset with Jewels I ever saw; +he addressed <i>Maria</i> with all the Mien and Air of the finest +Courtier; he had talked to her a good while before we heard him, but +then <i>Belvideera</i>, knowing her poor Sister uncapable of any +Defence, ‘Sir, (said she to the <i>Venetian</i>,) yonder is a Lady of my +Acquaintance, who lies under a Vow of Silence as you were, I must +therefore beg your Pardon, and fly to her Relief’: ‘She can never be +conquer’d, who has such a Champion,’ (reply’d the Gentleman) upon which +<i>Belvideera</i> turning from him, interpos’d between the Gentleman and +her Sister, saying, ‘This Lady, Sir, is under an Obligation of Silence, +as a Penance imposed by her Father-Confessor.’ ‘Madam, (reply’d the +Gentleman) whoever impos’d Silence on these fair Lips, is guilty of a +greater Offence than any, such a fair Creature cou’d commit.’ ‘Why, Sir, +(said <i>Belvideera</i>) have you seen the Lady’s Beauty’: ‘Yes, Madam, +(answer’d he) for urging her to talk, which I found she declin’d, +I promis’d to disengage her from any farther Impertinence, upon a +Sight of her Face; she agreed by paying the Price of her Liberty, which +was ransom enough for any Thing under Heavens, but her fair Company’; he +spoke in an Accent that easily shew’d him a Stranger; which +<i>Belvideera</i> laying hold of, as an Occasion of Railery, ‘Sir, (said +she,) your Tongue pronounces you a great Stranger in this Part of +<span class = "pagenum">428</span> +the World, I hope you are not what that Turbant represents; +perhaps, Sir, you think your self in the Seraglio’; ‘Madam, +(reply’d he,) this Turbant might have been in the <i>Turkish</i> +Seraglio, but never in so fair a one as this; and this Turbant (taking +it off) is now to be laid at the Foot of some Christian Lady, for whose +safety, and by whose protecting Influence, I had the Happiness to +win it from the Captain of the <i>Turkish</i> Admiral Galley.’ We were +all surpriz’d, knowing him then the young <i>English</i> Gentleman, we +were so curious of seeing; <i>Belvideera</i> presently talk’d +<i>English</i> to him, and made him some very pretty Complements upon +his Victory, which so charm’d the young Soldier, that her Tongue claim’d +an equal Share in his Heart with <i>Maria’s</i> Eyes; ‘Madam, (said he +to her) if you have the Beauty of that Lady, or if she has your Wit, +I am the most happy, or the most unfortunate Man alive.’ ‘Sir,’ +said the <i>Venetian</i> coming up, ‘pray give me leave to share in your +Misfortunes.’ ‘Sir, (said <i>Belvideera</i> very smartly) you must share +in his good Fortunes, and learn to conquer Men, before you have the +Honour of being subdu’d by Ladies, we scorn mean Prizes, Sir.’ ‘Madam, +(said the <i>Venetian</i> in some Choler) perhaps I can subdue a Rival.’ +‘Pray, Sir, (said the Stranger) don’t be angry with the Lady, she’s not +your Rival I hope, Sir.’ Said the <i>Venetian</i>, ‘I can’t be angry at +the Lady, because I love her; but my Anger must be levell’d at him, who +after this Declaration dare own a Passion for her.’ ‘Madam, (said the +<i>English</i> Gentleman turning from the <i>Venetian</i>) Honour now +must extort a Confession from me, which the Awfulness of my Passion +durst never have own’d: And I must declare,’ added he in a louder Voice, +‘to all the World, that I love you, lest this Gentleman shou’d think his +Threats forc’d me to disown it.’ ‘O! then (said <i>Belvideera</i>) +you’re his Rival in Honour, not in Love.’ ‘In honourable Love I am, +Madam,’ answer’d the Stranger. ‘I’ll try,’ (said the <i>Venetian</i>, +going off in +<span class = "pagenum">429</span> +Choler,) he Whisper’d a little to a Gentleman, that stood at some +Distance, and immediately went out; this was <i>Gonzago</i>, +a Gentleman of good Reputation in <i>Venice</i>, his Principles +were Honour and Gallantry, but the Former often sway’d by Passions, +rais’d by the Latter. All this while, <i>Maria</i> and I were admiring +the Stranger, whose Person was indeed wonderfully Amiable; his Motions +were exact, yet free and unconstrain’d; the Tone of his Voice carried a +sweet Air of Modesty in it, yet were all his Expressions manly; and to +summ up all, he was as fine an <i>English</i> Gentleman, as I ever saw +Step in the <i>Mall</i>.</p> + +<p>Poor <i>Maria</i> never before envied her Sister the Advantage of +Speech, or never deplor’d the Loss of her own with more Regret, she +found something so Sweet in the Mien, Person, and Discourse of this +Stranger, that her Eyes felt a dazling Pleasure in beholding him, and +like flattering Mirrours represented every Action and Feature, with some +heightning Advantage to her Imagination: <i>Belvideera</i> also had some +secret Impulses of Spirit, which drew her insensibly into a great Esteem +of the Gentleman; she ask’d him, by what good Genius, propitious to +<i>Venice</i>, he was induced to Live so remote from his Country; he +said, that he cou’d not imploy his Sword better than against the common +Foe of Christianity; and besides, there was a peculiar Reason, which +prompted him to serve there, which Time cou’d only make known. +I made bold to ask him some peculiar Questions, about Affairs at +Court, to most of which he gave Answers, that shew’d his Education +liberal, and himself no Stranger to Quality; he call’d himself <a class += "comm" name = "dumb_commtag1" id = "dumb_commtag1" href = +"#dumb_comm1"><i>Dangerfield</i></a>, which was a Name that so pleas’d +me, that being since satisfied it was a Counterfeit, I us’d it in a +Comedy of mine: We had talk’d ’till the greater Part of the Company +being dispers’d, <i>Dangerfield</i> begg’d Leave to attend us to our +Coach, and waiting us to the Door, the Gentleman, whom <i>Gonzago</i> +whisper’d, advanc’d and offer’d his Service to hand <i>Maria</i>; she +declin’d +<span class = "pagenum">430</span> +it, and upon his urging, she turn’d to the other Side of +<i>Dangerfield</i>, who, by this Action of the Ladies finding himself +intitled to her Protection, ‘Sir, (said he) Favours from great +Beauties, as from great Monarchs, must flow Voluntarily, not by +Constraint, and whosoever wou’d extort from either, are liable to the +great Severity of Punishment.’ ‘Oh! Sir, (reply’d the <i>Venetian</i> +very arrogantly,) I understand not your Monarchy, we live here +under a free State; besides, Sir, where there is no Punishment to be +dreaded, the Law will prove of little Force; and so, Sir, by your +Leave,’ offering to push him aside, and lay hold on the Lady. +<i>Dangerfield</i> returned the Justle so vigorously, that the +<i>Venetian</i> fell down the Descent of some Stairs at the Door, and +broke his Sword: <i>Dangerfield</i> leap’d down after him, to prosecute +his Chastizement, but seeing his Sword broken, only whisper’d him, that +if he wou’d meet him next Morning at Six, at the Back-part of St. +<i>Mark’s</i> Church, he wou’d satisfie him for the Loss of his Sword; +upon which, the <i>Venetian</i> immediately went off, cursing his ill +Fate, that prevented his quarrelling with <i>Dangerfield</i>, to whom he +had born a grudging Envy ever since his Success in the late Engagement, +and of whom, and his Lodgings, he had given <i>Gonzago</i> an Account, +when he whisper’d him at the Ball. <i>Dangerfield</i> left us full of +his Praises, and went home to his Lodgings, where he found a Note +directed to him to this Effect:</p> + +<p class = "salutation">SIR,</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">You</span> declared Publickly at the Ball, you +were my Rival in Love and Honour: If you dare prove it by Maintaining +it, I shall be to morrow Morning at Six, at the Back-part of St. +<em>Mark’s</em> Church, where I shall be ready to fall a Sacrifice to +both.</p> + +<p class = "right">Gonzago.</p> + +<p><i>Dangerfield</i>, on the Perusal of this Challenge, began to +reflect on the Strangeness of that Evening’s Adventure, which had +engag’d him in a Passion for two Mistresses, +<span class = "pagenum">431</span> +and involv’d him in two Duels; and whether the Extravagance of his +Passion, or the Oddness of his Fighting-Appointments, were most +remarkable, he found hard to Determine; his Love was divided between the +Beauty of one Lady, and Wit of another, either of which he loved +passionately, yet nothing cou’d satisfy him, but the Possibility of +enjoying both. He had appointed the Gentleman at the Ball to meet him at +the same Time and Place, which <i>Gonzago’s</i> Challenge to him +imported; this Disturbance employed his Thought till Morning, when +rising and dressing himself very richly, he walked to the appointed +Place. <i>Erizo</i>, who was the Gentleman whose Sword he had broke, was +in the Place before him; and <i>Gonzago</i> entered at the same Time +with him. <i>Erizo</i>, was surprized to see <i>Gonzago</i>, as much as +he was to find <i>Erizo</i> there. ‘I don’t remember, Friend (said +<i>Gonzago</i>) that I desired your Company here this Morning.’ ‘As much +as I expected yours,’ answered <i>Erizo</i>. ‘Come, Gentlemen, (said +<i>Dangerfield</i>, interrupting them) I must fight you both, it +seems: which shall I dispatch first?’ ‘Sir, (said <i>Erizo</i>) you +challeng’d me, and therefore I claim your Promise.’ ‘Sir, (reply’d +<i>Gonzago</i>) he must require the same of me first, as I challenged +him.’ Said <i>Erizo</i>, ‘the Affront I received was unpardonable, and +therefore I must fight him first, lest if he fall by your Hands, +I be depriv’d of my Satisfaction.’ ‘Nay (reply’d <i>Gonzago</i>) my +Love and Honour being laid at Stake, first claims his Blood; and +therefore, Sir, (continued he to <i>Dangerfield</i>) defend yourself.’ +‘Hold (said <i>Erizo</i> interposing,) if you thrust home, you injure +me, your Friend.’ ‘You have forfeited that title, (said <i>Gonzago</i> +all in Choler,) and therefore if you stand not aside, I’ll push at you.’ +‘Thrust home then, (said <i>Erizo</i>) and take what follows.’ They +immediately assaulted each other vigorously. ‘Hold, Gentlemen, (said +<i>Dangerfield</i> striking down their Swords) by righting your selves +you injure me, robbing me of that Satisfaction, +<span class = "pagenum">432</span> +which you both owe me, and therefore, Gentlemen, you shall fight me, +before any private Quarrel among your selves defraud me of my Revenge, +and so one or both of you,’ thrusting first at <i>Erizo</i>. ‘I’m your +Man,’ (said <i>Gonzago</i>) parrying the Thrust made at <i>Erizo</i>. +The Clashing of so many Swords alarm’d some Gentlemen at their +<i>Mattins</i> in the Church, among whom was <i>Rinaldo</i>, who since +the Death of his Wife, had constantly attended Morning-Service at the +Church, wherein she was buried. He with Two or Three more, upon the +Noise ran out, and parting the three Combatants, desired to know the +Occasion of their Promiscuous Quarrel. <i>Gonzago</i> and <i>Erizo</i> +knowing <i>Rinaldo</i>, gave him an Account of the Matter, as also who +the Stranger was. <i>Rinaldo</i> was overjoy’d to find the brave +<i>Britain</i>, whom he had received so great a Character of, from his +Brother the Admiral, and accosting him very Courteously, ‘Sir, +(said he) I am sorry our Countrymen shou’d be so Ungrateful as +to Injure any Person, who has been so Serviceable to the State; and +pray, Gentlemen, (added he, addressing the other two) be intreated to +suspend your Animosities, and come Dine with me at my House, where I +hope to prevail with you to end your Resentments.’ <i>Gonzago</i> and +<i>Erizo</i> hearing him Compliment the Stranger at their Expence, told +him in a Rage, they wou’d chuse some other Place than his House, to end +their Resentments in, and walk’d off. <i>Dangerfield</i>, on +<i>Rinaldo’s</i> farther Request, accompanied him to his House.</p> + +<p><i>Maria</i> had newly risen, and with her Night-gown only thrown +loose about her, had look’d out of the Window, just as her Father and +<i>Dangerfield</i> were approaching the Gate, at the same Instant she +cast her Eyes upon <i>Dangerfield</i>, and he accidentally look’d up to +the Window where she stood, their Surprize was mutual, but that of +<i>Dangerfield</i> the greater; he saw such an amazing Sight of Beauty, +as made him doubt the Reality of the Object, +<span class = "pagenum">433</span> +or distrust the Perfection of his Sight; he saw his dear Lady, who had +so captivated him the preceeding Day, he saw her in all the heightning +Circumstances of her Charms, he saw her in all her native Beauties, free +from the Incumbrance of Dress, her Hair as black as Ebony, hung flowing +in careless Curls over her Shoulders, it hung link’d in amorous +Twinings, as if in Love with its own Beauties; her Eyes not yet freed +from the Dullness of the late Sleep, cast a languishing Pleasure in +their Aspect, which heaviness of Sight added the greatest Beauties to +those Suns, because under the Shade of such a Cloud, their Lustre cou’d +only be view’d; the lambent Drowsiness that play’d upon her Face, seem’d +like a thin Veil not to hide, but to heighten the Beauty which it +cover’d; her Night-gown hanging loose, discover’d her charming Bosom, +which cou’d bear no Name, but Transport, Wonder and Extasy, all which +struck his Soul, as soon as the Object hit his Eye; her Breasts with an +easy Heaving, show’d the Smoothness of her Soul and of her Skin; their +Motions were so languishingly soft, that they cou’d not be said to rise +and fall, but rather to swell up towards Love, the Heat of which seem’d +to melt them down again; some scatter’d jetty Hairs, which hung +confus’dly over her Breasts, made her Bosom show like <i>Venus</i> +caught in <i>Vulcan’s</i> Net, but ’twas the Spectator, not she, was +captivated. This <i>Dangerfield</i> saw, and all this at once, and with +Eyes that were adapted by a preparatory Potion; what must then his +Condition be? He was stricken with such Amazement, that he was forced to +Support himself, by leaning on <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Arm, who started at his +sudden Indisposition. ‘I’m afraid, Sir, (said he) you have received +some Wound in the Duel.’ ‘Oh! Sir, (said he) I am mortally +wounded’; but recollecting himself after a little Pause, ‘now I am +better.’ <i>Rinaldo</i> wou’d have sent for a Surgeon to have it +searched. ‘Your pardon, Sir, (said <i>Dangerfield</i>) my Indisposition +proceeds +<span class = "pagenum">434</span> +from an inward Malady, not by a Sword, but like those made by +<i>Achilles’s</i> Spear, nothing can cure, but what gave the Wound.’ +<i>Rinaldo</i> guessing at the Distemper, but not the Cause of it, out +of good Manners declined any further enquiry, but conducting him in, +entertained him with all the Courtesy imaginable; but in half a Hour, +a Messenger came from the Senate, requiring his immediate +Attendance; he lying under an indispensable Necessity of making his +personal Appearance, begg’d <i>Dangerfield’s</i> Pardon, intreating him +to stay, and command his House till his return, and conducting him to a +fine Library, said he might there find Entertainment, if he were +addicted to Study; adding withal, as a farther Engagement of his +Patience, that he should meet the Admiral at the Senate, whom he wou’d +bring home as an Addition to their Company at Dinner. <i>Dangerfield</i> +needed none of these Motives to stay, being detained by a secret +Inclination to the Place; walking therefore into the Library, +<i>Rinaldo</i> went to the Senate. <i>Dangerfield</i> when alone, fell +into deep Ruminating on his strange Condition, he knew himself in the +House, with one of his dear Charmers, but durst not hope to see her, +which added to his Torment; like <i>Tantalus</i> remov’d the farther +from Happiness, by being nearer to it, contemplated so far on the +Beauties of that dear Creature, that he concluded, if her Wit were like +that of his t’other Mistress, he wou’d endeavour to confine his Passion +wholly to that Object.</p> + +<p>In the mean Time, <i>Maria</i> was no less confounded, she knew +herself in Love with a Stranger, whose Residence was uncertain, she knew +her own Modesty in concealing it; and alas! she knew her Dumbness +uncapable of ever revealing it, at least, it must never expect any +Return; she had gather’d from her Sister’s Discourse, that she was her +Rival; a Rival, who had the Precedency in Age, as the Advantage in +Wit, and Intreague, which want of Speech render’d her uncapable of; +these Reflections, as they drew her farther from the dear Object, +brought her +<span class = "pagenum">435</span> +nearer Despair; her Sister was gone that Morning with her Unkle, the +Admiral, about two Miles from <i>Venice</i>, to drink some Mineral +Waters, and <i>Maria</i> finding nothing to divert her, goes down to her +Father’s Library, to ease her Melancholy by reading. She was in the same +loose Habit in which she appeared at the Window, her Distraction of +Thought not permitting her any Care in dressing herself; she enter’d +whilst <i>Dangerfield’s</i> Thoughts were bent by a full Contemplation +of her Idea, insomuch that his Surprize represented her as a Phantom +only, created by the Strength of his Fancy; her depth of Thought had +cast down her Eyes in a fix’d Posture so low, that she discover’d not +<i>Dangerfield</i>, till she stood close where he sat, but then so +sudden an Appearance of what she so lov’d, struck so violently on her +Spirits, that she fell in a Swoon, and fell directly into +<i>Dangerfield’s</i> Arms; this soon wakened him from his Dream of +Happiness, to a Reality of Bliss, he found his Phantom turn’d into the +most charming Piece of Flesh and Blood that ever was, he found her, whom +just now he despair’d of seeing; he found her with all her Beauties +flowing loose in his Arms, the Greatness of the Pleasure rais’d by the +two heightning Circumstances of Unexpectancy and Surprize, was too large +for the Capacity of his Soul, he found himself beyond Expression happy, +but could not digest the Surfeit; he had no sooner Leisure to consider +on his Joy, but he must reflect on the Danger of her that caus’d it, +which forced him to suspend his Happiness to administer some Relief to +her expiring Senses: He had a Bottle of excellent Spirits in his Pocket, +which holding to her Nose, soon recover’d her; she finding herself in +the Arms of a Man, and in so loose a Dress, blush’d now more red, than +she look’d lately pale; and disengaging herself in a Confusion, wou’d +have flung from him; but he gently detaining her by a precarious Hold, +threw himself on his Knees, and with the greatest Fervency of Passion +cry’d out: ‘For +<span class = "pagenum">436</span> +Heavens sake, dearest Creature, be not offended at the accidental +Blessing which Fortune, not Design, hath cast upon me; (She wou’d have +rais’d him up,) No Madam, (continu’d he) never will I remove +from this Posture, ’till you have pronounc’d my Pardon; I love you, +Madam, to that Degree, that if you leave me in a distrust of your Anger, +I cannot survive it; I beg, intreat, conjure you to speak, +your Silence torments me worse than your Reproaches cou’d; am I so much +disdain’d, that you will not afford me one Word?’ The lamentable Plight +of the wretched Lady every one may guess, but no Body can comprehend; +she saw the dearest of Mankind prostrate at her Feet, and imploring what +she wou’d as readily grant as he desire, yet herself under a Necessity +of denying his Prayers, and her own easy Inclinations. The Motions of +her Soul, wanting the freedom of Utterance, were like to tear her Heart +asunder by so narrow a Confinement, like the force of Fire pent up, +working more impetuously; ’till at last he redoubling his Importunity, +her Thoughts wanting Conveyance by the Lips, burst out at her Eyes in a +Flood of Tears; then moving towards a Writing-Desk, he following her +still on his Knees, amidst her Sighs and Groans she took Pen and Paper, +writ two Lines, which she gave him folded up, then flinging from him, +ran up to her Chamber: He strangely surpriz’d at this odd manner of +Proceeding, opening the Paper, read the following Words:</p> + +<div class = "verse ital"> +<p>You can’t my Pardon, nor my Anger move.</p> +<p>For know, alas! I’m dumb, alas! I love.</p> +</div> + +<p>He was wonderfully Amaz’d reading these Words. ‘Dumb, (cried he out) +naturally Dumb? O ye niggard Powers, why was such a wond’rous Piece +of Art left imperfect?’ He had many other wild Reasonings upon the +lamentable Subject, but falling from these to more calm Reflections, he +examined her Note again, and finding by the last Words that she loved +him, he might presently +<span class = "pagenum">437</span> +imagine, that if he found not some Means of declaring the Continuance of +his Love, the innocent Lady might conjecture herself slighted, upon the +Discovery of her Affection and Infirmity: Prompted, by which Thought, +and animated by the Emotions of his Passion, he ventured to knock at her +Door; she having by this Time dressed herself, ventured to let him in: +<i>Dangerfield</i> ran towards her, and catching her with an eager +Embrace, gave her a thousand Kisses; ‘Madam, (said he) you find +that pardoning Offences only prepares more, by emboldning the Offender; +but, I hope, Madam,’ shewing her the Note, ‘this is a general +Pardon for all Offences of this sort, by which I am so encouraged to +Transgress, that I shall never cease Crimes of this Nature’; Kissing her +again. His Happiness was interrupted by <i>Belvideera’s</i> coming Home, +who running up Stairs, called, ‘Sister, Sister, I have News to tell +you’: Her Voice alarms <i>Maria</i>, who fearing the Jealousy of +<i>Belvideera</i>, shou’d she find <i>Dangerfield</i> in her +Bed-Chamber, made Signs that he shou’d run into the Closet, which she +had just lock’d as <i>Belvideera</i> came in: ‘Oh, Sister! (said +<i>Belvideera</i>) in a lucky Hour went I abroad this Morning.’ In a +more lucky Hour stay’d I at home this Morning, thought <i>Maria</i>. ‘I +have, (continued she,) been Instrumental in parting two Gentlemen +fighting this Morning, and what is more, my Father had parted them +before, when engag’d with the fine <i>English</i> Gentleman we saw at +the Ball yesterday; but the greatest News of all is, that this fine +<i>English</i> Gentleman is now in the House, and must Dine here to Day; +but you must not appear, Sister, because ’twere a Shame to let Strangers +know that you are Dumb.’ <i>Maria</i> perceived her Jealousy, pointed to +her Limbs, intimating thereby, that it was as great a Shame for her to +be seen by Strangers; but she made farther Signs, that since it was her +Pleasure, she wou’d keep her Chamber all that Day, and not appear +abroad. <i>Belvideera</i> was extreamly glad of her +<span class = "pagenum">438</span> +Resolution, hoping that she shou’d enjoy <i>Dangerfield’s</i> +Conversation without any Interruption. The Consternation of the Spark in +the Closet all this while was not little, he heard the Voice of the +Charmer, that had so captivated him, he found that she was Sister to +that Lady, whom he just now was making so many Protestations to, but he +cou’d not imagine how she was Instrumental in parting the two Gentlemen, +that shou’d have fought him; the Occasion was this:</p> + +<p><i>Gonzago</i> and <i>Erizo</i>, parting from <i>Rinaldo</i> and +<i>Dangerfield</i>, had walk’d towards the <i>Rialto</i>, and both +exasperated that they had missed their intended Revenge against +<i>Dangerfield</i>, turned their Fury upon each other, first raising +their Anger by incensed Expostulations, then drawing their Swords, +engaged in a desperate Combat, when a Voice very loud calling, +(<i>Erizo</i>, hold) stopt their Fury to see whence it proceeded; when a +Coach driving at full Flight stopt close by them, and <i>Francisco</i> +the <i>Venetian</i> Admiral leaped out with his Sword drawn, saying, +‘Gentlemen, pray let me be an Instrument of Pacification: As for your +part, <i>Erizo</i>, this Proceeding suits not well with the Business I +am to move in Favour of you in the Senate to Day; the Post you sue for +claims your Blood to be spilt against the common Foe, not in private +Resentment, to the Destruction of a Citizen; and therefore I intreat you +as my Friend, or I command you as your Officer, to put up.’ +<i>Erizo</i>, unwilling to disoblige his Admiral, upon whose Favour his +Advancement depended, told <i>Gonzago</i>, that he must find another +time to talk with him. ‘No, no, Gentlemen, (said the Admiral) you shall +not part ’till I have reconciled you, and therefore let me know your +Cause of Quarrel.’ <i>Erizo</i> therefore related to him the whole +Affair, and mentioning that <i>Dangerfield</i> was gone Home to Dine +with <i>Rinaldo</i>; ‘With <i>Rinaldo</i> my Father?’ said +<i>Belvideera</i> from the Coach, overjoy’d with Hopes of seeing +<i>Dangerfield</i> at Home. ‘Yes, (reply’d <i>Gonzago</i> surpriz’d) if +<i>Rinaldo</i> the Senator be your Father, Madam.’ ‘Yes, he is,’ reply’d +<i>Belvideera</i>. <i>Gonzago</i> +<span class = "pagenum">439</span> +then knew her to be the Lady he was enamour’d of, and for whom he wou’d +have fought <i>Dangerfield</i>; and now cursed his ill Fate, that he had +deny’d <i>Rinaldo’s</i> Invitation, which lost him the Conversation of +his Mistress, which his Rival wou’d be sure of. ‘Come, come, Gentlemen, +(said the Admiral) you shall accompany me to see this Stranger at +<i>Rinaldo’s</i> House, I bear a great Esteem for him, and so it +behoves every loyal <i>Venetian</i>, for whose Service he hath been so +signal.’ <i>Erizo</i>, unwilling to deny the Admiral, and <i>Gonzago</i> +glad of an Opportunity of his Mistress’s Company, which he just now +thought lost, consented to the Proposal, and mounting all into the +Coach, the three Gentlemen were set down at the Senate, and the Lady +drove Home as above-mentioned.</p> + +<p><i>Rinaldo</i> in the mean Time was not idle in the Senate, there +being a Motion made for Election of a Captain to the <i>Rialto</i> +Galleon, made void by the Death of its former Commander in the late +Fight, and which was the Post designed by the Admiral for <i>Erizo</i>. +<i>Rinaldo</i> catching an Opportunity of obliging <i>Dangerfield</i>, +for whom he entertain’d a great Love and Respect, proposed him as a +Candidate for the Command, urging his late brave Performance against the +<i>Turks</i>, and how much it concerned the Interest of the State to +encourage Foreigners. He being the Admiral’s Brother, and being so +fervent in the Affair, had by an unanimous Consent his Commission sign’d +just as his Brother came into the Senate, who fearing how Things were +carried, comforted <i>Erizo</i> by future Preferment; but <i>Erizo</i>, +however he stifled his Resentment, was struck with Envy, that a +Stranger, and his Enemy shou’d be preferred to him, and resolved Revenge +on the first Opportunity. They all went home with <i>Rinaldo</i>, and +arrived whilst <i>Belvideera</i> was talking above Stairs with her +Sister. <i>Rinaldo</i>, impatient to communicate his Success to +<i>Dangerfield</i>, ran into the Study, where he left him; but missing +him there, went into the Garden, and searching all about, returned +<span class = "pagenum">440</span> +to the Company, telling them he believ’d <i>Dangerfield</i> had fallen +asleep in some private Arbor in the Garden, where he cou’d not find him, +or else impatient of his long stay, had departed; but he was sure, if he +had gone, he wou’d soon return: However they went to Dinner, and +<i>Belvideera</i> came down, making an Apology for her Sister’s Absence, +thro’ an Indisposition that had seized her. <i>Gonzago</i> had his +wished for Opportunity of entertaining his Mistress, whilst she always +expecting some News of <i>Dangerfield</i>, sat very uneasie in his +Company; whilst <i>Dangerfield</i> in the Closet, was as impatient to +see her. The short Discourse she had with her Sister, gave him assurance +that his Love wou’d not be unacceptable. <i>Maria</i> durst not open the +Closet, afraid that her Sister shou’d come up every Minute, besides, +’twas impossible to convey him out of the Chamber undiscovered, untill +’twas dark, which made him Wonder what occasioned his long Confinement; +and being tired with sitting, got up to the Window, and softly opening +the Casement, looked out to take the Air; his Footman walking +accidentally in the Court, and casting up his Eye that way, spy’d him, +which confirm’d his Patience in attending for him at the Gate; at length +it grew Dark, and <i>Maria</i> knowing that her Sister was engag’d in a +Match at Cards with her Father, <i>Gonzago</i> and <i>Erizo</i>, the +Admiral being gone, she came softly to the Closet, and innocently took +<i>Dangerfield</i> by the Hand, to lead him out, he clapt the dear soft +Hand to his Mouth, and kissing it eagerly, it fired his Blood, and the +unhappy Opportunity adding to the Temptation, raised him to the highest +Pitch of Passion; he found himself with the most beautiful Creature in +the World, one who loved him, he knew they were alone in the Dark, in a +Bed-chamber, he knew the Lady young and melting, he knew besides she +cou’d not tell, and he was conscious of his Power in moving; all these +wicked Thoughts concurring, establish’d him in the Opinion, that this +was the critical Minute of his Happiness, +<span class = "pagenum">441</span> +resolving therefore not to lose it, he fell down on his Knees, devouring +her tender Hand, sighing out his Passion, begging her to Crown it with +her Love, making Ten thousand Vows and Protestations of his Secrecy and +Constancy, urging all the Arguments that the Subtilty of the Devil or +Man could suggest. She held out against all his Assaults above two +Hours, and often endeavoured to Struggle from him, but durst make no +great Disturbance, thro’ fear of Alarming the Company below, at last he +redoubling his Passion with Sighs, Tears, and all the rest of Love’s +Artillery, he at last gain’d the Fort, and the poor conquered Lady, all +panting, soft, and trembling every Joynt, melted by his Embraces, he +there fatally enjoy’d the greatest Extasy of Bliss, heightned by the +Circumstances of Stealth, and Difficulty in obtaining. The ruin’d Lady +now too late deplored the Loss of her Honour; but he endeavour’d to +Comfort her by making Vows of Secrecy, and promising to salve her +Reputation by a speedy Marriage, which he certainly intended, had not +the unhappy <i>Crisis</i> of his Fate been so near. The Company by this +Time had gone off, and <i>Belvideera</i> had retir’d to her Chamber, +melancholy that she had missed her Hopes of seeing <i>Dangerfield</i>. +<i>Gonzago</i> and <i>Erizo</i> going out of the Gate, saw +<i>Dangerfield’s</i> Footman, whom they knew, since they saw him with +his Master in the Morning. <i>Gonzago</i> asked him why he waited there? +‘For my Master, Sir,’ reply’d the Footman. ‘Your Master is not here +sure,’ said <i>Gonzago</i>. ‘Yes, but he is, Sir,’ said the Servant, +‘for I attended him hither this Morning with <i>Rinaldo</i>, and saw him +in the Afternoon look out of a Window above Stairs.’ ‘Ha!’ said +<i>Gonzago</i>, calling <i>Erizo</i> aside, ‘by Heavens, he lies here to +Night then, and perhaps with my Mistress; I perceiv’d she was not +pressing for our Stay, but rather urging our Departure. <i>Erizo</i>, +<i>Erizo</i>, this Block must be remov’d, he has stepped between you and +a Command to Day, and perhaps may lye between me and my Mistress +<span class = "pagenum">442</span> +to Night.’ ‘By Hell (answered <i>Erizo</i>) thou hast raised a Fury in +me, that will not be lulled asleep, but by a Potion of his Blood; let’s +dispatch this Blockhead first’: And running at the Footman, with one +Thrust killed him. <i>Dangerfield</i> by this time had been let out, and +hearing the Noise, ran to the Place; they presently assaulted him; he +defended himself very bravely the space of some Minutes, having wounded +<i>Gonzago</i> in the Breast; when <i>Rinaldo</i> hearing the Noise, +came out; but too late for <i>Dangerfield’s</i> Relief, and too soon for +his own Fate; for <i>Gonzago</i>, exasperated by his Wound, ran +treacherously behind <i>Dangerfield</i>, and thrust him quite thro’ the +Body. He finding the mortal Wound, and wild with Rage, thrust +desperately forward at <i>Erizo</i>, when at the instant <i>Rinaldo</i> +striking in between to part them, received <i>Dangerfield’s</i> Sword in +his Body, which pierced him quite thro’. He no sooner fell, than +<i>Dangerfield</i> perceived his fatal Error, and the other Two fled. +<i>Dangerfield</i> curs’d his Fate, and begg’d with all the Prayers and +Earnestness of a dying Man, that <i>Rinaldo</i> wou’d forgive him. ‘Oh!’ +said <i>Rinaldo</i>, ‘you have ill rewarded me for my Care in your +Concerns in the Senate to Day.’ The Servants coming out, took up +<i>Rinaldo</i>, and <i>Dangerfield</i> leaning upon his Sword, they led +him in. <i>Belvideera</i> first heard the Noise, and running down first +met the horrid Spectacle, her dear Father breathing out his last, and +her Lover, whom she had all that Day flattered her self with Hopes of +seeing, she now beheld in Streams of his Blood; but what must poor +<i>Maria’s</i> Case be? besides the Grief for her Father’s Fate, she +must view that dear Man, lately Happy in her Embraces, now folded in the +Arms of Death, she finds herself bereft of a Parent, her Love, her +Honour, and the Defender of it, all at once; and the greatest Torment +is, that she must bear all this Anguish, and cannot Ease her Soul by +expressing it. <i>Belvideera</i> sat wiping the Blood from her Father’s +Wound, whilst mournful <i>Maria</i> sat by <i>Dangerfield</i>, +administring +<span class = "pagenum">443</span> +all the Help she cou’d to his fainting Spirits; whilst he viewed her +with greater Excess of Grief, than he had heretofore with Pleasure; +being sensible what was the Force of her silent Grief, and the Wrong he +had done her, which now he cou’d never Redress: He had accidentally +dropt his Wig in the Engagement, and inclining his Head over the Couch +where he lay, <i>Rinaldo</i> casting his Eye upon him, perceiv’d the +Mark of a bloody Dagger on his Neck, under his left Ear: ‘Sir, (said +<i>Rinaldo</i>, raising himself up) I conjure you answer me +directly, were you born with the Mark of that Dagger, or have you +received it since by Accident.’ ‘I was certainly born with it,’ +answer’d he. ‘Just such a Mark had my Son <i>Cosmo</i>, who was lost in +the <i>Adriatick</i>.’ ‘How! (reply’d <i>Dangerfield</i>, starting up +with a wild Confusion) Lost! say’st thou in the <i>Adriatick</i>? Your +Son lost in the <i>Adriatick</i>?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said <i>Rinaldo</i>, ‘too +surely lost in the <i>Adriatick</i>.’ ‘O ye impartial Powers (said +<i>Dangerfield</i>), why did you not reveal this before? Or why not +always conceal it? How happy had been the Discovery some few Hours ago, +and how Tragical is it now? For know,’ continued he, addressing himself +to <i>Rinaldo</i>, ‘know that my suppos’d Father, who was a <i>Turky</i> +Merchant, upon his Death-bed call’d me to him, and told me ’twas time to +undeceive me, I was not his Son, he found me in the +<i>Adriatick</i> Sea, ty’d to two Planks in his Voyage from <ins class = +"correction" title = "text reads ‘Symrna’"><i>Smyrna</i></ins> to +<i>London</i>; having no Children, he educated me as his own, and +finding me worth his Care, left me all his Inheritance with this dying +Command, that I shou’d seek my Parents at <i>Venice</i>.’ +<i>Belvideera</i> hearkning all this while to the lamentable Story, then +conjectured whence proceeded the natural Affection the whole Family bore +him, and embracing him, cry’d out, ‘Oh my unhappy Brother.’ <i>Maria</i> +all the while had strong and wild Convulsions of Sorrow within her, +’till the working Force of her Anguish racking at once all the Passages +of her Breast, by a violent Impulse, broke the +<span class = "pagenum">444</span> +Ligament that doubled in her Tongue, and she burst out with this +Exclamation; ‘Oh! Incest, Incest.’ <i>Dangerfield</i> eccho’d that +Outcry with this, ‘O! Horror, Horror, I have enjoy’d my Sister, and +murder’d my Father.’ <i>Maria</i> running distracted about the Chamber, +at last spy’d <i>Dangerfield’s</i> Sword, by which he had supported +himself into the House, and catching it up, reeking with the Blood of +her Father, plung’d it into her Heart, and throwing herself into +<i>Dangerfield’s</i> Arms, calls out, ‘O my Brother, O my +Love,’ and expir’d. All the Neighbourhood was soon alarm’d by the +Out-cries of the Family. I lodged within three Doors of +<i>Rinaldo’s</i> House, and running presently thither, saw a more bloody +Tragedy in Reality, than what the most moving Scene ever presented; the +Father and Daughter were both dead, the unfortunate Son was gasping out +his last, and the surviving Sister most miserable, because she must +survive such Misfortunes, cry’d to me; ‘O! behold the Fate of your +wretched Countryman.’ I cou’d make no Answer, being struck dumb by +the Horror of such woeful Objects; but <i>Dangerfield</i> hearing her +name his Country, turning towards me, with a languishing and weak Tone, +‘Madam,’ said he, ‘I was your Countryman, and wou’d to Heavens I +were so still; if you hear my Story mention’d, on your Return to +<i>England</i>, pray give these strange Turns of my Fate not the Name of +Crimes, but favour them with the Epithet of Misfortunes; my Name is not +Dangerfield, but <i>Cla</i>—’ His Voice there fail’d him, and he +presently dy’d; Death seeming more favourable than himself, concealing +the fatal Author of so many Misfortunes, for I cou’d never since learn +out his Name; but have done him the justice, I hope, to make him be +pity’d for his Misfortunes, not hated for his Crimes. <i>Francisco</i> +being sent for, had <i>Gonzago</i> and <i>Erizo</i> apprehended, +condemn’d, and executed. <i>Belvideera</i> consign’d all her Father’s +Estate over to her Uncle, reserving only a Competency to maintain her a +Recluse all the rest of her Life.</p> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<span class = "pagenum"><i>523</i></span> + +<h5><a name = "dumb_notes" id = "dumb_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Dumb Virgin.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "dumb_comm1" id = "dumb_comm1" href = "#dumb_commtag1">p. +429</a> +<i>Dangerfield.</i> This name is not to be found in any one of Mrs. +Behn’s plays, but as it does occur in Sedley’s <i>Bellamira; or, The +Mistress</i> (1687), one can only conclude that Aphra gave it to Sir +Charles and altered her own character’s nomenclature. Mrs. Behn, it may +be remembered, was more than once extraordinarily careless with regard +to the names of the Dramatis Personæ in her comedies. A striking +example occurs in <i>Sir Patient Fancy</i>, where the ‘precise clerk’ is +called both Abel and Bartholomew. In <i>The Feign’d Curtezans</i> Silvio +and Sabina are persistently confused, and again, in <i>The Town Fop</i> +(Vol. III, p. 15 and p. 20), the name Dresswell is retained +for Friendlove. Sedley’s <i>Bellamira</i> is derived from Terence’s +<i>Eunuchus</i>, and Dangerfield is Thraso; the Pyrgopolinices, Miles +Gloriosus, of Plautus.</p> + +</div> + + +<div class = "crossref"> +<h5><a name = "dumb_crossref" id = "dumb_crossref"> +Cross-Reference</a></h5> + +<p><a href = "#dumb_intro">Beginning of Introduction</a>: Consanguinity +and love which are treated in this novel so romantically and with such +tragic catastrophe had already been dealt with in happier mood by Mrs. +Behn in <i>The Dutch Lover</i>. <i>Vide</i> Note on the Source of that +play, Vol. I, p. 218.</p> + +<p>Vol. I, p. 218, beginning of “Source” section for <i>The Dutch +Lover</i>:</p> + +<p class = "inset"> +Mrs. Behn founded the plot of <i>The Dutch Lover</i> upon the stories +of Eufemie and Theodore, Don Jame and Frederic, in a pseudo-Spanish +novel entitled ‘<i>The History of Don Fenise</i>, a new Romance +written +in Spanish by Francisco de Las Coveras, And now Englished by a +Person of Honour, London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley,’ 8vo, 1651.</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">445</span> +<a name = "wandering" id = "wandering"> </a> + + +<h3>THE WANDERING BEAUTY.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">447</span> +<h4><a name = "wandering_main" id = "wandering_main"> +THE WANDERING BEAUTY.</a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">I was</span> not above twelve Years old, as +near as I can remember, when a Lady of my Acquaintance, who was +particularly concern’d in many of the Passages, very pleasantly +entertain’d me with the Relation of the young Lady <i>Arabella’s</i> +Adventures, who was eldest Daughter to Sir <i>Francis Fairname</i>, +a Gentleman of a noble Family, and of a very large Estate in the +West of <i>England</i>, a true Church-Man, a great Loyalist, +and a most discreetly-indulgent Parent; nor was his Lady any Way +inferiour to him in every Circumstance of Virtue. They had only two +Children more, and those were of the soft, unhappy Sex too; all very +beautiful, especially <i>Arabella</i>, and all very much alike; piously +educated, and courtly too, of naturally-virtuous Principles and +Inclinations.</p> + +<p>’Twas about the sixteenth Year of her Age, that Sir <i>Robert +Richland</i>, her Father’s great Friend and inseparable Companion, but +superiour to him in Estate as well as Years, felt the resistless Beauty +of this young Lady raging and burning in his aged Veins, which had like +to have been as fatal to him, as a Consumption, or his Climacterical +Year of Sixty Three, in which he dy’d, as I am told, though he was then +hardly Sixty. However, the Winter Medlar would fain have been inoculated +in the Summer’s Nacturine. His unseasonable Appetite grew so strong and +inordinate, that he was oblig’d to discover it to Sir <i>Francis</i>; +who, though he lov’d him very sincerely, had yet a Regard to his +Daughter’s Youth, and Satisfaction in the Choice of a Husband; +especially, when he consider’d the great Disproportion in their Age, +which he rightly imagin’d would be very disagreeable to +<i>Arabella’s</i> Inclinations: +<span class = "pagenum">448</span> +This made him at first use all the most powerful and perswading +Arguments in his Capacity, to convince Sir <i>Robert</i> of the +Inequality of such a Match, but all to no Purpose; for his Passion +increasing each Day more violently, the more assiduously, and with the +greater Vehemence, he press’d his Friend to use his Interest and +Authority with his Lady and Daughter, to consent to his almost unnatural +Proposition; offering this as the most weighty and prevailing Argument, +(which undoubtedly it was,) That since he was a Batchelor, he would +settle his whole Estate upon her, if she surviv’d him, on the Day of +Marriage, not desiring one Penny as a Portion with her. This Discourse +wrought so powerfully with her Mother, that she promis’d the old Lover +all the Assistance he could hope or expect from her: In order to which, +the next Day she acquainted her fair Daughter with the Golden Advantage +she was like to have, if she would but consent <i>to lye by the +Parchment that convey’d them to her</i>. The dear, fair Creature, was so +surpriz’d at this Overture made by her Mother, that her Roses turn’d all +into Lillies, and she had like to have swoon’d away; but having a +greater Command of her Passions than usually our Sex have, and chiefly +Persons of her Age, she, after some little Disorder, which by no Means +she could dissemble, she made as dutiful a Return to her Mother’s +Proposition, as her Aversion to it would permit; and, for that Time, got +Liberty to retreat, and lament in private the Misfortune which she +partly fore-saw was impending. But her Grief (alas) was no Cure of her +Malady; for the next Day she was again doubly attack’d by her Father and +Mother, with all the Reasons that Interest and Duty could urge, which +she endeavour’d to obviate by all the Arguments that Nature and +Inclination could offer; but she found them all in vain, since they +continu’d their ungrateful Solicitations for several Days together, at +the End of which, they both absolutely +<span class = "pagenum">449</span> +commanded her to prepare her self for her Nuptials with Sir +<i>Robert</i>; so that finding her self under a Necessity of complying, +or at least of seeming so, she made ’em hope, that her Duty had overcome +her Aversion; upon which she had a whole Week’s Liberty to walk where +she would, unattended, or with what Company she pleas’d, and to make +Visits to whom she had a Mind, either of her Relations or Acquaintance +thereabouts; tho’ for three or four Days before, she was strictly +confin’d to her Chamber.</p> + +<p>After Dinner, on the third Day of her Enlargement, being Summer Time, +she propos’d to her Mother that she would take a Walk to a Cousin of +hers, who liv’d about four Miles thence, to intreat her to be one of her +Bride-Maids, being then in a careless plain Dress, and having before +discours’d very pleasantly and freely of her Wedding-Day, of what +Friends she would have invited to that Solemnity, and what Hospitality +Sir <i>Robert</i> should keep when she was marry’d to him: All which was +highly agreeable to her Parents, who then could not forbear thanking and +kissing her for it, which she return’d to ’em both with a Shower of +Tears. This did not a little surprize ’em at first, but asking her what +could cause such Signs of Sorrow, after so chearful a Discourse on the +late Subject? She answer’d, ‘That the Thoughts of her going now suddenly +to live from so dear and tender a Father and Mother, were the sole +Occasion of such Expressions of Grief.’ This affectionate Reply did +amply satisfy their Doubts; and she presently took Leave of ’em, after +having desir’d that they would not be uneasy if she should not return +’till a little before ’twas dark, or if her Cousin should oblige her to +stay all Night with her; which they took for a discreet Caution in her, +considering that young Maidens love dearly to talk of Marriage Affairs, +especially when so near at Hand: And thus easily parted with her, when +they had walk’d with her about a Mile, over a Field or two of their +own.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">450</span> +<p>Never before that Time was the dear Creature glad that her Father and +Mother had left her, unless when they had press’d her to a Marriage with +the old Knight. They were therefore no sooner got out of Sight, e’re she +took another Path, that led cross the Country, which she persu’d ’till +past eight at Night, having walk’d ten Miles since two a Clock, when Sir +<i>Francis</i> and her Mother left her: She was just now got to a little +Cottage, the poor, but cleanly Habitation of a Husbandman and his Wife, +who had one only Child, a Daughter, about the Lady +<i>Arabella’s</i> Age and Stature. ’Twas happy for her she got thither +before they were a Bed; for her soft and beautiful Limbs began now to be +tir’d, and her tender Feet to be gall’d. To the good Woman of the House +she applies her self, desiring Entertainment for that Night, offering +her any reasonable Satisfaction. The good Wife, at first Sight of her, +had Compassion of her, and immediately bid her walk in, telling her, +that she might lye with her Daughter, if she pleas’d, who was very +cleanly, tho’ not very vine. The good Man of the House came in soon +after, was very well pleas’d with his new Guest; so to Supper they went +very seasonably; for the poor young Lady, who was e’en ready to faint +with Thirst, and not overcharg’d with what she had eaten the Day before. +After Supper they ask’d her whence she came, and how she durst venture +to travel alone, and a Foot? To which she reply’d, That she came from a +Relation who liv’d at <i>Exeter</i>, with whom she had stay’d ’till she +found she was burthensome: That she was of <i>Welsh</i> Parents, and of +a good Family; but her Father dying, left a cruel Mother-in-Law, with +whom she could by no Means continue, especially since she would have +forc’d her to marry an old Man, whom it was impossible she should love, +tho’ he was very rich: That she was now going to seek her Fortune in +<i>London</i>, where she hop’d, at least, to get her a good Service. +They all seem’d to pity her very heartily; and, in a little +<span class = "pagenum">451</span> +Time after, they went to their two several Apartments, in one of which +<i>Arabella</i> and the Damsel of the House went to Bed, where the young +Lady slept soundly, notwith­standing the Hardness of her Lodging. In +the Morning, about Four, according to her laudable Custom, the young +hardy Maiden got up to her daily Employment; which waken’d +<i>Arabella</i>, who presently bethought her self of an Expedient for +her more secure and easy Escape from her Parents Pursuit and Knowledge, +proposing to her Bedfellow an Exchange of their Wearing-Apparel. The +Heiress and Hope of that little Family was extreamly fond of the +Proposal, and ran immediately to acquaint her Mother with it, who was so +well pleas’d, that she could hardly believe it, when the young Lady +confirm’d it, and especially, when she understood the Exchange was to be +made on even Hands. ‘If you be in earnest, Forsooth, (said the Mother) +you shall e’en have her Sunday-Cloaths.’ ‘Agreed (return’d +<i>Arabella</i>) but we must change Shifts too; I have now a Couple +about me, new and clean, I do assure you: For my Hoods and +Head-dress you shall give me <a class = "comm" name = +"wandering_commtag1" id = "wandering_commtag1" href = +"#wandering_comm1">two Pinners</a>, and her best Straw-Hat; and for my +Shoes, which I have not worn above a Week, I will have her Holliday +Shoes.’ ‘A Match, indeed, young Mistress,’ cry’d the good Wife. So +without more Ceremony, the young unhappy Lady was attir’d in her +Bedfellow’s Country Weeds, by Help of the Mother and Daughter. Then, +after she had taken her Leave of the good old Man too, she put a broad +round Shilling into his Wife’s Hand, as a Reward for her Supper and +Lodging, which she would fain have return’d, but t’other would not +receive it. ‘Nay, then, by the Mackins, (said her Hostess) you shall +take a Breakfast e’re you go, and a Dinner along with you, for Fear you +should be sick by the Way.’ <i>Arabella</i> stay’d to eat a Mess of warm +Milk, and took some of their Yesterday’s Provision with her in a little +course Linnen Bag. Then asking for the direct Road to +<span class = "pagenum">452</span> +<i>London</i>, and begging a few green Wall-nuts, she took her last +Farewel of them.</p> + +<p>Near Twelve at Noon she came to a pleasant Meadow, through which +there ran a little Rivulet of clear Water, about nine miles from her +last Lodging, but quite out of the Way to <i>London</i>. Here she sate +down, and after drinking some of the Water out of the Hollow of her +Hand, she open’d her Bag, and made as good a Meal as the Courseness of +the Fare, and the Niceness of her Appetite would permit: After which, +she bruis’d the outward green Shells of a Wall-nut or two, and smear’d +her lovely Face, Hands, and Part of her Arms, with the Juice; then +looking into the little purling Stream, that seem’d to murmur at the +Injury she did to so much Beauty, she sigh’d and wept, to think to what +base Extremities she was now likely to be reduc’d! That she should be +forc’d to stain that Skin which Heaven had made so pure and white! ‘But +ah! (cry’d she to her self) if my Disobedience to my Parents had not +stain’d my Conscience worse, this needed not to have been done.’ Here +she wept abundantly again; then, drying her Eyes, she wash’d her Feet to +refresh ’em, and thence continu’d her Journey for ten Miles more, which +she compass’d by seven a Clock; when she came to a Village, where she +got Entertainment for that Night, paying for it, and the next Morning, +before Six, as soon as she had fill’d her little Bag with what good +Chear the Place afforded, she wander’d on ’till Twelve again, still +crossing the Country, and taking her Course to the Northern Parts of +<i>England</i>, which doubtless was the Reason her Father and his +Servants miss’d of her in their Pursuit; for he imagin’d that for +certain she had taken her nearest Way to <i>London</i>. After she had +refresh’d her self for an Hour’s Time by the Side of a Wood, she arose +and wander’d again near twelve Miles by eight a Clock, and lodg’d at a +good substantial Farmer’s.</p> + +<p>Thus she continu’d her Errantry for above a Fortnight, +<span class = "pagenum">453</span> +having no more Money than just thirty Shillings, half of which brought +her to Sir <i>Christian Kindly’s</i> House in <i>Lancashire</i>. ’Twas +near five a Clock in the Afternoon when she reach’d that happy Port, +when, coming to the Hall Door, she enquir’d for the Lady of the House, +who happily was just coming into the Hall with a little Miss in her +Arms, of about four Years old, very much troubled with weak and sore +Eyes: The fair Wanderer, addressing her self to the Lady with all the +Humility and Modesty imaginable, begg’d to know if her Ladyship had any +Place in her Family vacant, in which she might do her Service? To which +the Lady return’d, (by Way of Question) Alas! poor Creature! what +canst thou do? Any thing, may it please your Ladyship, (reply’d the +disguis’d Beauty) any thing within my Strength and my Knowledge, +I mean, Madam. Thou say’st well, (said the Lady) and I’m sorry I +have not any vacant for thee. I beseech your Ladyship then (said +<i>Arabella</i>) let me lodge in your Barn to-Night; for I am told it is +a great Way hence to any Town, and I have but little Money. In my Barn, +poor Girl! (cry’d the Lady, looking very earnestly on her) ay, God +forbid else, unless we can find a better Lodging for thee. Art thou +hungry or thirsty? Yes, Madam (reply’d the wandering Fair One) +I could both eat and drink, if it please your Ladyship. The Lady +commanded Victuals and Drink to be brought, and could not forbear +staying in the Hall ’till she had done; when she ask’d her several +Questions, as of what Country she was? To which she answer’d truly, of +<i>Somersetshire</i>. What her Parents were, and if living? To which she +return’d, They were good, honest, and religious People, and she hop’d +they were alive, and in as good Health as when she left ’em. After the +Lady had done catechising her, <i>Arabella</i>, looking on the little +Child in her Ladyship’s Arms, said, Pardon me, Madam, I beseech +you, if I am too bold in asking your Ladyship how that pretty Creature’s +Eyes came to +<span class = "pagenum">454</span> +be so bad? By an extream Cold which she took, (reply’d the Lady.) +I had not presum’d (return’d t’other) to have ask’d your Ladyship +this Question, were I not assur’d that I have an infallible Cure for the +Infirmity; and if, Madam, you will be pleas’d to let me apply it, +I will tell your Ladyship the Remedy in private. The Lady was much +surpriz’d to hear a young Creature, so meanly habited, talk so +genteelly; and after surveying her very strictly, said the Lady, Have +you ever experienc’d it before? Yes, Madam (reply’d the fair Physician) +and never without happy Success: I dare engage, Madam, (added she) +that I will make ’em as well as my own, by God’s Blessing, or else I +will be content to lose mine, which Heaven forbid. Amen, (cry’d the good +Lady) for they are very fine ones, on my Word.—Stay, Child, +I will desire Sir <i>Christian</i> to hear it with me; and if he +approves it, you shall about it; and if it take good Effect, we will +endeavour to requite the Care and Pains it shall cost you. Saying thus, +she immediately left her, and return’d very speedily with Sir +<i>Christian</i>, who having discours’d <i>Arabella</i> for some time, +with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, took her into the Parlour with his +Lady, where she communicated her Secret to ’em both; which they found so +innocent and reasonable, that they desir’d her to prepare it as soon as +possible, and to make her Application of it with all convenient Speed; +which she could not do ’till the next Morning. In the mean Time she was +order’d a Lodging with the House-Maid, who reported to her Lady, That +she found her a very sweet and cleanly Bed-fellow; (adding) That she +never saw nor felt so white, so smooth, and soft a Skin. <i>Arabella</i> +continu’d her Remedy with such good Success, that in a Fortnight’s Time +little Miss’s Eyes were as lively and strong as ever. This so endear’d +her to the Knight and his Lady, that they created a new Office in their +Family, purposely for her, which was, Attendant on their eldest Daughter +<i>Eleanora</i>, a Lady much about her +<span class = "pagenum">455</span> +Years and Stature; who was so charm’d with her Conversation, that she +could not stir Abroad, nor eat, nor sleep, without <i>Peregrina +Goodhouse</i> (for those were the Names she borrow’d:) Nor was her +Modesty, Humility, and Sweetness of Temper, less engaging to her +Fellow-Servants, who all strove which should best express their Love to +her. On Festival-Days, and for the Entertainment of Strangers, she would +lend her helping Hand to the Cook, and make the Sauce for every Dish, +though her own Province was only to attend the young Lady, and prepare +the Quidlings, and other Sweet-Meats, for the Reception of Sir +<i>Christian’s</i> Friends; all which she did to Admiration. In this +State of easy Servitude she liv’d there for near three Years, very well +contented at all Times, but when she bethought her self of her Father, +Mother, and Sisters, courted by all the principal Men-Servants, whom she +refus’d in so obliging a Manner, and with such sweet, obliging Words, +that they could not think themselves injur’d, though they found their +Addresses were in vain. Mr. <i>Prayfast</i>, the Chaplain himself, could +not hold out against her Charms. For her Skin had long since recover’d +its native Whiteness; nor did she need Ornaments of Cloaths to set her +Beauty off, if any Thing could adorn her, since she was dress’d +altogether as costly, though not so richly (perhaps) as <i>Eleanora</i>. +<i>Prayfast</i> therefore found that the Spirit was too weak for the +Flesh, and gave her very broad Signs of his Kindness in Sonnets, +Anagrams, and Acrosticks, which she receiv’d very obligingly of him, +taking a more convenient Time to laugh at ’em with her young Lady.</p> + +<p>Her kind Reception of them encourag’d him to that Degree, that within +a few Days after, supposing himself secure on her Side, he apply’d +himself to the good old Knight, his Patron, for his Consent to a +Marriage with her, who very readily comply’d with his Demands, esteeming +it a very advantagious Match for <i>Peregrina</i>, and withal +<span class = "pagenum">456</span> +told him, That he would give him three hundred Pounds with her, besides +the first Benefit that should fall in his Gift. But (said he) as I +doubt not that you are sufficiently acquainted with her Virtues and +other excellent Qualifications, ’tis necessary that you should know the +worst that I can tell you of her, which is, that she came to us a meer +Stranger, in a very mean, tho’ cleanly Habit; and therefore, as she +confesseth, we may conclude, of very humble, yet honest Parentage. A! +(possibly) her Father might have been, or is, some Husbandman, or +somewhat inferiour to that; for we took her up at the Door, begging one +Night’s Entertainment in the Barn. How, Sir! (cry’d <i>Prayfast</i>, +starting) have you no better Knowledge of her Birth, than what you are +pleas’d to discover now? No better, nor more (reply’d the Knight.) Alas! +Sir, then (return’d the proud canonical Sort of a Farmer) she is no Wife +for me; I shall dishonour my Family by marrying so basely. Were you +never told any Thing of this before? (ask’d the Knight.) You know, Sir, +(answer’d the Prelate that would be) that I have not had the Honour +to officiate, as your Chaplain, much more than half a Year; in which +Time, ’tis true, I have heard that she was receiv’d as a Stranger; +but that she came in so low a Capacity I never learn’d ’till now. +I find then, Parson, (said the Knight) that you do not like the +Author of your Happiness, at least, who might be so, because she comes +to you in such an humble Manner; I tell you the <i>Jews</i> are +miserable for the same Reason. She cannot be such perfectly to me +(return’d t’other) without the Advantage of good Birth. With that I’m +sure she would not, return’d his Patron, and left him to go to +<i>Peregrina</i>, whom he happily found alone. Child, (said he to her) +have you any Obligation to Mr. <i>Prayfast</i>? As how, Sir? She ask’d. +Do you love him? Have you made him any Promise of Marriage? Or has he +any Way engag’d himself to you? Neither, Sir, (she answer’d.) ’Tis true, +I love him as my Fellow-Servant, no otherwise. He has +<span class = "pagenum">457</span> +indeed been somewhat lavish of his Wit and Rhimes to me, which serv’d +well enough to divert my young Lady and me. But of all Mankind, perhaps, +he should be the last I would choose for a Husband. I thought (said +the good-humour’d old Knight) that he had already obtain’d a Promise +from you, since he came but just now to ask my Consent, which I freely +gave him at first, upon that Thought; but he is doubtful of your Birth, +and fears it may dishonour his Family, if he should marry you. On my +Word, Sir, (return’d <i>Peregrina</i>, blushing with Disdain, no doubt) +our Families are by no Means equal. What thy Family is, I know not; +(said Sir <i>Christian</i>) but I am sure thou art infinitely superiour +to him in all the natural Embelishments both of Body and Mind. Be just +to thy self, and be not hasty to wed: Thou hast more Merit than Wealth +alone can purchase. O! dear Sir, (she return’d) you ruin me with +Obligations never to be re-paid, but in Acknowledgment, and that +imperfectly too. Here they were interrupted by the young Lady, to whom +she repeated the Conference betwixt Sir <i>Christian</i> and +<i>Prayfast</i>, as soon as ever Sir <i>Christian</i> left the Room.</p> + +<p>About a Week after, Sir <i>Lucius Lovewell</i>, (a young Gentleman, +of a good Presence, Wit, and Learning enough, whose Father, dying near a +Twelve-month before, had left him upwards of 3000<i>l.</i> a Year, +which, too, was an excellent Accomplishment, tho’ not the best; for he +was admirably good-humour’d) came to visit Sir <i>Christian Kindly</i>; +and, as some of the Family imagin’d, ’twas with Design to make his +Addresses to the young Lady, Sir <i>Christian’s</i> Daughter. Whatever +his Thoughts were, his Treatment, there, was very generous and kind. He +saw the Lady, and lik’d her very well; nay, doubtless, would have +admitted a Passion for her, had not his Destiny at the same Time shewn +him <i>Peregrina</i>. She was very beautiful, and he as sensible; and +’tis not to be doubted, but that he immediately took Fire. However, his +Application +<span class = "pagenum">458</span> +and Courtship, free and unaffected, were chiefly directed to Sir +<i>Christian’s</i> Daughter: Some little Respects he paid to +<i>Peregrina</i>, who could not choose but look on him as a very fine, +good-humour’d, and well-accomplish’d Gentleman. When the Hour came that +he thought fit to retreat, Sir <i>Christian</i> ask’d him, When he would +make ’em happy again in his Conversation? To which he return’d, That +since he was not above seven or eight Miles from him, and that there +were Charms so attractive at Sir <i>Christian’s</i>, he should take the +Liberty to visit him sooner and oftener than he either expected or +desir’d. T’other reply’d, That was impossible; and so, without much more +Ceremony, he took his Leave of that delightful Company for two or three +Days; at the End of which he return’d, with Thoughts much different from +those at his first Coming thither, being strongly agitated by his +Passion for <i>Peregrina</i>. He took and made all the Opportunities and +Occasions that Chance and his own Fancy could offer and present to talk +to her, both before, at, and after Dinner; and his Eyes were so +constantly fix’d on her, that he seem’d to observe nothing else; which +was so visible to Sir <i>Christian</i>, his Lady, and Daughter, that +they were convinc’d of their Error, in believing, that he came to make +his Court to the young Lady. This late Discovery of the young Knight’s +Inclinations, was no Way unpleasant to Sir <i>Christian</i> and his +Lady; and to the young Lady it was most agreeable and obliging, since +her Heart was already pre-engag’d elsewhere; and since she did equally +desire the good fortune of her beautiful Attendant with her own.</p> + +<p>The Table was no sooner clear’d, and a loyal Health or two gone +round, e’re Sir <i>Christian</i> ask’d his young amorous Guest to take a +Walk with him in the Gardens: To which Sir <i>Lucius</i> readily +consented, designing to disclose that to him for a Secret, which was but +too apparent to all that were present at Table: When therefore he +<span class = "pagenum">459</span> +thought he had sufficiently admir’d and commended the Neatness of the +Walks and Beauty of the Flowers, he began, to this Effect:</p> + +<p>Possibly, Sir <i>Christian</i>, I shall surprize you with the +Discourse I’m going to make you; but ’tis certain no Man can avoid the +Necessity of the Fate which he lies under; at least I have now found it +so.—I came at first, Sir, with the Hopes of prevailing on you +to honour and make me happy in a Marriage with Madam <i>Eleanora</i> +your Daughter; but at the same Instant I was seiz’d with so irresistable +a Passion for the charming <i>Peregrina</i>, that I find no Empire, +Fame, nor Wit, can make me perfectly bless’d here below, without the +Enjoyment of that beautiful Creature. Do not mistake me, Sir, +(I beseech you, continu’d he) I mean an <i>honourable +Enjoyment</i>.—I will make her my Wife, Sir, if you will be +generously pleas’d to use your Interest with her on my Part.</p> + +<p>To which the good old Knight reply’d, What you think (Sir) you have +now imparted as a Secret, has been the general Observation of all my +Family, e’re since you gave us the Happiness of your Company to Day: +Your Passion is too great to be disguis’d; and I am extremely pleas’d, +that you can think any Thing in my House worthy the Honour you intend +<i>Peregrina</i>. Indeed, had you made any particular and publick +Address to my Daughter, I should have believ’d it want of Merit in +her, or in us, her Parents, that you should, after that, quit your +Pretensions to her, without any willing or known Offence committed on +our Side. I therefore (Sir) approve your Choice, and promise you my +utmost Assistance afar. She is really virtuous in all the Latitude of +Virtue; her Beauty is too visible to be disputed ev’n by Envy it self: +As for her Birth, she best can inform you of it; I must only let +you know, that, as her Name imports, she was utterly a Stranger, and +entertain’d by us in pure Charity. But the Antiquity and Honour of your +Family can receive no Diminution +<span class = "pagenum">460</span> +by a Match with a beautiful and virtuous Creature, for whom, you say, +and I believe, you have so true a Passion. I have now told you the +worst (Sir) that I know of her; but your Wealth and Love may make you +both eternally happy on Earth. And so they shall, <i>by her dear +self</i>, (return’d the amorous Knight) if both of ’em may recommend me +to her, with your Perswasions added, which still I beg. Say, rather you +command; and with those three hundred Pounds which I promis’d her, if +she marry’d with my Consent to Mr. <i>Prayfast</i>.</p> + +<p>To this, the other smiling, reply’d, Her Person and Love is all I +court or expect, Sir: But since you have thought her worthy of so great +an Expression of your Favour and Kindness, I will receive it with +all Humility as is from a Father, which I shall ever esteem +you.—But see, Sir, (cry’d he in an Extasy) how she comes, led by +Madam <i>Eleanora</i>, your Daughter. The young Lady coming to him, +began thus: I know (Sir) ’tis my Father and Mother’s Desire and +Ambition to shew you the heartiest Welcome in their Power, which can by +no Means be made appear so particularly and undisputably, as by +presenting you with what you like best in the Family: In Assurance +therefore that I shall merit their Favour by this Act, I have +brought your dear <i>Peregrina</i> to you, not without Advice, and some +Instructions of mine, that may concern her Happiness with you, if +discreetly observ’d and persu’d by her. In short, (Sir) I have told +her, that a Gentleman of so good a Figure, such excellent Parts, and +generous Education, of so ancient and honourable a Family, together with +so plentiful an Estate as you at present possess, is capable of bringing +Happiness to any, the fairest Lady in this Country at least. +O Madam! (return’d Sir <i>Lucius</i>) your Obligation is so great, +that I want Sense to receive it as I ought; much more Words to return +you any proportionable Acknowledgment of it. But give me Leave to say +thus much, Madam; that my Thoughts of +<span class = "pagenum">461</span> +making my Court to your Ladiship, first invited me to give Sir +<i>Christian</i>, your Father, the Trouble of a Visit, since the Death +of mine. However, the over-ruling Powers have thought to divert my +Purpose, and the offering of my Heart, which can never rest, but with +this dear charming Creature.—Your Merits, Madam—are +sufficient for the Gentleman on whom I entirely fix’d my Affections, +before you did me the Honour and your self the Trouble of your first +Visit (interrupted Sir <i>Christian’s</i> Daughter.) And now, Sir, +(added she to her Father) if you please, let us leave ’em to make an End +of this Business between themselves. No, Madam, (cry’d Sir +<i>Lucius</i>) your Father has promis’d me to make Use of his Interest +with her for my Sake. This I now expect, Sir. Then (said the old Knight) +thou dear beautiful and virtuous Stranger! if I have any Power to +perswade thee, take my Advice, and this honourable Gentleman to thy +loving Husband; I’m sure he’ll prove so to thee. If I could command thee +I would. Ah Sir! (said she, kneeling, with Tears falling from her +charming Eyes) I know none living that has greater Right and +Power.—But (alas Sir!) this honourable Person knows not the +Meanness of my Birth, at least, he cannot think it any Way +proportionable or suitable to his. O thou dear Creature, (cry’d her +Lover, setting one Knee to the Ground, and taking her up) Sir +<i>Christian</i> has already discours’d all thy Circumstances to me: +Rise and bless me with thy Consent. I must ask my Lady’s, Sir, (she +reply’d.) See, here my Mother comes (said the young Lady) and entreated +her good Word for Sir <i>Lucius</i>. The good ancient Lady began then to +use all the Arguments to incline her to yield to her Happiness; and, in +fine, she was prevail’d on to say, I do consent, and will endeavour +to deserve the honourable Title of your dutiful Wife, Sir. ’Twas with no +common Joy and Transport that he receiv’d her Hand, and kiss’d those +dear Lips that gave him an Assurance of his Happiness; which he resolv’d +<span class = "pagenum">462</span> +should begin about a Month or two afterwards; in which Time he might +send Orders to <i>London</i> for the making their Wedding Cloaths. Into +the House then they all went, Sir <i>Lucius</i> leading +<i>Peregrina</i>, and the first they met of the Family was +<i>Prayfast</i>, who was not a little surpriz’d nor discompos’d at that +Sight; and more especially when Sir <i>Christian</i> told him, That tho’ +he did not think that beautiful sweet Stranger worthy the Title of his +Wife, yet now he should be oblig’d to join her to that honourable +Person. The Slave bow’d, and look’d very pale.</p> + +<p>All Things were at last got ready for the Consummation of their +Bliss, and <i>Prayfast</i> did their Business effectually, tho’ much +against his Will; however he receiv’d the Reward of twenty Broad Pieces. +The Wedding was kept for a Week at Sir <i>Christian’s</i> House; after +which they adjourn’d to the Bridegroom’s, where it lasted as long as Sir +<i>Christian</i>, his Lady, Daughter, and the rest of that Family would +stay. As they were leaving him, Sir <i>Lucius</i> dispos’d of two +hundred Pounds amongst Sir <i>Christian’s</i> Servants, and the rest of +the three hundred he distributed among the Poor of both Parishes.</p> + +<p>When they were gone, the affectionate tender Bridegroom could by no +Means be perswaded by any Gentlemen, his Neighbours, to hunt with ’em, +or to take any Divertisement, tho’ but for half a Day; esteeming it the +highest Unkindness imaginable to leave his Lady: Not that she could be +alone neither in his Absence; for she never wanted the Visits of all the +Ladies round about, and those of the best Quality; who were equally +charm’d with her Sweetness of Temper, as the Men were with her outward +Beauties. But in a Month’s time, or thereabout, observing that he was +continually solicited and courted to some Sport or Pastime with those +Gentlemen of his Neighbourhood, she was forc’d to do her self the +Violence to beg of him that he would divert himself with ’em, as before +their Marriage he us’d: And she had so good +<span class = "pagenum">463</span> +Success, that he did allow himself two Days in the Week to hunt: In one +of which, coming Home about five a Clock, and not finding his Lady below +Stairs, he went directly up to her Chamber, where he saw her leaning her +Head on her Hand, and her Handkerchief all bath’d in Tears. At this +Sight he was strangely amaz’d and concern’d. Madam, (cry’d he in an +unusual Tone) what means such Postures as these? Tell me! For I must +know the Occasion. Surpriz’d, and trembling at this his unwonted Manner +of saluting her, she started up, and then, falling on her Knees, she +wept out, O thou dear Author and Lord of all my Joys on Earth! Look +not, I beseech you, so wildly, nor speak terribly to me! Thou +Center of all my Happiness below, (return’d he) rise, and make me +acquainted with the dreadful Occasion of this afflicting and tormenting +Sight! All you shall know, (she reply’d) dearest of human Blessings! But +sit, and change your Looks; then I can speak. Speak then, my Life, +(said he) but tell me all; all I must know. Is there a Thought +about my Soul that you shall not partake? I’m sure there is not; +(he reply’d) say on then. You know, Sir, (she return’d) that I have +left my Parents now three Years, or thereabouts, and know not whether +they are living or dead: I was reflecting, therefore, on the +Troubles which my undutiful and long Absence may have caus’d them; for +poor and mean as they may be, they well instructed me in all good +Things; and I would once more, by your dear Permission, see them, and +beg their Pardon for my Fault; for they are my Parents still, if living, +Sir, though (unhappily) not worth your Regard. How! (cry’d he) can +that Pair who gave my Dearest Birth, want my Regard, or ought I can do +for them? No! thou shalt see them, and so will I: But tell me, +<i>Peregrina</i>, is this the only Cause of your Discomposure? So may I +still be bless’d in your dear Love, (she reply’d) as this is Truth, and +all the Cause. When shall we see them, then? (he ask’d). +<span class = "pagenum">464</span> +We see them, (cry’d she) O! your Goodness descends too much; and you +confound me with your unmerited and unexpected Kindness. ’Tis I alone +that have offended, and I alone am fit to see them. That must not be; +(return’d her affectionate Husband) no, we’ll both go together; and if +they want, either provide for them there, or take them hither with us. +Your Education shews their Principles, and ’tis no Shame to own virtuous +Relations. Come, dry thy dear lamenting Eyes; the Beginning of the next +Week we’ll set forwards. Was ever Disobedience so rewarded with such a +Husband? (said she) those Tears have wash’d that childish Guilt away; +and there is no Reward above thy Virtue.</p> + +<p>In a few Days, Monday began the Date of their Journey to the +<i>West</i> of <i>England</i>; and in five or six Days more, by the Help +of a Coach and Six, they got to <i>Cornwall</i>; where, in a little +Town, of little Accommodation, they were oblig’d to take up their +Lodgings the first Night. In the Morning (said his Lady to him) My Dear, +about a Mile and a half hence lives one Sir <i>Francis Fairname</i> and +his Lady, if yet they be living, who have a very fine House, and worth +your seeing; I beg of you therefore, that you will be so kind to +your self as to walk thither, and dine with the old Gentleman; for that +you must, if you see him; whilst I stay here, and send to my Father and +Mother, if to be found, and prepare them to receive you at your Return. +I must not have no Denial; (added she) for if you refuse this +Favour, all my Designs are lost.—Make Haste, my Life; ’tis now +eleven a Clock; In your Absence I’ll dress, to try if Change of Cloaths +can hide me from them. This was so small a Request, that he did not stay +to reply to’t, but presently left her, and got thither in less than half +an Hour, attended only by one Footman. He was very kindly and +respectfully receiv’d by the old Gentleman, who had certainly been a +very beautiful Person in his Youth; and Sir <i>Lucius</i>, fixing his +Eyes upon his Face, +<span class = "pagenum">465</span> +could hardly remove ’em, being very pleasantly and surprisingly +entertain’d with some Lines that he observ’d in it. But immediately +recollecting himself, he told him, that having heard how fine a Seat +that was, his Curiosity led him to beg the Favour that he might see it. +The worthy old Knight return’d, that his House and all the +Accommodations in it were at his Service: So inviting him in, he +satisfy’d his pretended Curiosity; and after he had shewn all that was +worthy the Sight of a Stranger, in the House, he led him into his +Gardens, which furnish’d Sir <i>Lucius</i> with new Matter of +Admiration; whence the old Knight brought him into the Parlour, telling +him, that ’twas his Custom to suffer no Stranger to return, till he had +either din’d or supp’d with him, according as the Hour of the Day or +Night presented.</p> + +<p>’Twas here the affectionate Husband was strangely surpriz’d at the +Sight of a Picture, which so nearly counterfeited the Beauties of his +dear-lov’d Lady, that he stood like an Image himself, gazing and +varying; the Colours of his Face agitating by the Diversity of his +Thoughts; which Sir <i>Francis</i> perceiving, ask’d him, What it was +that so visibly concern’d him? To which he reply’d, That indeed he was +concern’d, but with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, since he had never +seen any Thing more beautiful than that Picture, unless it were a Lady +for whom he had the most sincere Affection imaginable, and whom it did +very nearly represent; and then enquir’d for whom that was drawn? Sir +<i>Francis</i> answer’d him, ’Twas design’d for one who was, I dare +not say who is, my Daughter; and the other two were drawn for her +younger Sisters. And see, Sir, (persu’d he) here they come, +following their Mother: At which Words Sir <i>Lucius</i> was oblig’d to +divorce his Eyes from the charming Shadow, and make his Compliments to +them; which were no sooner over than Dinner was serv’d in, where the +young Knight eat as heartily as he could, considering he sate just +opposite to it, and in +<span class = "pagenum">466</span> +Sight of the two Ladies, who were now exactly like his own Wife, though +not so very beautiful.</p> + +<p>The Table being uncover’d, Sir <i>Lucius</i> desir’d to know why Sir +<i>Francis</i> said, He doubted whether the Original of that Picture +were yet his Daughter? To which the Mother return’d (big with Sorrow, +which was seen in her Tears) That her Husband had spoken but too +rightly: For (added she) ’tis now three Years since we have either seen +her or heard from her. How, Madam! three Years, (cry’d Sir +<i>Lucius</i>) I believe I can shew your Ladiship a dear Acquaintance of +mine, so wonderfully like that Picture, that I am almost perswaded she +is the very Original; only (pardon me, Madam) she tells me her Parents +are of mean Birth and Fortune. Dear Sir, (cry’d the tender Mother) Is +she in this Country? She is not two Miles hence, reply’d Sir +<i>Lucius</i>. By all Things most dear to you, Sir, (said the Lady) let +us be so happy as to see her, and that with all convenient Expedition! +for it will be a Happiness to see any Creature, the only Like my dearest +<i>Arabella</i>. <i>Arabella</i>, Madam! alas! No, Madam, her Name is +<i>Peregrina</i>. No Matter for Names, Sir, (cry’d the Lady) I want +the Sight of the dear Creature. Sir, (added the worthy old Knight) +I can assure you it will be an eternal Obligation to us; or, if you +please, we will wait on you to her. By no Means, Sir, (return’d Sir +<i>Lucius</i>) I will repeat my Trouble to you with her, in an Hour at +farthest. We shall desire the Continuance of such Trouble as long as we +live, reply’d Sir <i>Francis</i>. So, without farther Ceremony, Sir +<i>Lucius</i> left ’em and return’d to his Lady, whom he found ready +dress’d, as he wish’d he might. Madam, (said he) where are your +Father and Mother? I know not, yet, my Dear, she reply’d. Well, +(return’d he) we will expect ’em, or send for ’em hither at Night; +in the mean Time I have engag’d to bring you with me to Sir <i>Francis +Fairname</i> and his Lady, with all imaginable Expedition. So +immediately, as soon as Coach and Six +<span class = "pagenum">467</span> +and Equipage was ready, he hurry’d her away with him to Sir +<i>Francis</i>, whom they found walking with his Lady and two Daughters +in the outward Court, impatiently expecting their Coming. The Boot of +the Coach (for that was the Fashion in those Days) was presently let +down, and Sir <i>Lucius</i> led his Lady forwards to them; who coming +within three or four Paces of the good old Knight, his Lady fell on her +Knees, and begg’d their Pardon and Blessing. Her affectionate Father +answer’d ’em with Tears from his Eyes; but the good ancient Lady was so +overcome with Joy, that she fell into a Swoon, and had like to have been +accompany’d by her Daughter, who fell upon her Knees by her, and with +her Shrieks recall’d her, when she strait cry’d out, My Daughter, my +Daughter’s come again! my <i>Arabella</i> alive! Ay, my dear offended +Mother! with all the Duty and Penitence that Humanity is capable of, +return’d the Lady <i>Lovewell</i>. Her Sisters then express’d their Love +in Tears, Embraces, and Kisses, while her dear Husband begg’d a Blessing +of her Parents, who were very pleasantly surpriz’d, to know that their +Daughter was so happily marry’d, and to a Gentleman of such an Estate +and Quality as Sir <i>Lucius</i> seem’d to be: ’Twas late that Night +e’er they went to Bed at Sir <i>Francis’s</i>. The next Day, after they +had all pretty well eas’d themselves of their Passions, Sir +<i>Francis</i> told his Son-in-Law, that as he had three Daughters, so +he had 3000<i>l.</i> a Year, and he would divide it equally among ’em; +but for Joy of the Recovery of his eldest Daughter, and her fortunate +Match with so worthy a Gentleman as Sir <i>Lucius</i>, who had given him +an Account of his Estate and Quality, he promis’d him ten thousand +Pounds in ready Money besides; whereas the other young Ladies were to +have but five thousand a Piece, besides their Dividend of the Estate. +And now, (said he) Daughter, the Cause of your Retreat from us, old +Sir <i>Robert Richland</i>, has been dead these three Months, on such a +Day. How, Sir, (cry’d she) on such a Day! +<span class = "pagenum">468</span> +that was the very Day on which I was so happy as to be marry’d to my +dear Sir <i>Lucius</i>.</p> + +<p>She then gave her Father, and Mother, and Sisters, a Relation of all +that had happen’d to her since her Absence from her dear Parents, who +were extremely pleas’d with the Account of Sir <i>Christian</i> and his +Lady’s Hospitality and Kindness to her; and in less than a Fortnight +after, they took a Journey to Sir <i>Lucius’s</i>, carrying the two +other young Ladies along with ’em; and, by the Way, they call’d at Sir +<i>Christian’s</i>, where they arriv’d Time enough to be present the +next Day at Sir <i>Christian’s</i> Daughter’s Wedding, which they kept +there for a whole Fortnight.</p> + +<h4 class = "final">FINIS.</h4> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<span class = "pagenum"><i>523</i></span> + +<h5><a name = "wandering_notes" id = "wandering_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Wandering Beauty.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "wandering_comm1" id = "wandering_comm1" href = +"#wandering_commtag1">p. 451</a> +<i>two Pinners</i>. A pinner is ‘a coif with two long flaps one on each +side pinned on and hanging down, and sometimes fastened at the breast +. . . sometimes applied to the flaps as an adjunct of the +coif.’—<i>N.E.D.</i> cf. Pepys, 18 April, 1664: ‘To Hyde Park +. . . and my Lady Castlemaine in a coach by herself, in yellow +satin and a pinner on.’</p> + +</div> + + +<span class = "pagenum">469</span> +<a name = "unhappy" id = "unhappy"> </a> + + +<h3>THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE; OR,<br> +THE IMPIOUS VOW PUNISH’D.</h3> + + +<span class = "pagenum">471</span> +<h4><a name = "unhappy_main" id = "unhappy_main"> +THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE, <i>&c.</i></a></h4> + + +<p><span class = "firstword">The</span> Effects of Jealousy have ever +been most fatal; and it is certainly one of the most tormenting Passions +that an human Soul can be capable of, tho’ it be created by the least +Appearances of Reason: The Truth of which this following Story will +evince.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Henry Hardyman</i> was a Gentleman of a very large Estate in +<i>Somersetshire</i>, of a very generous Temper, hospitable almost to +<i>Extravagancy</i>; a <i>plain down-right Dealer, wonderfully +good-natur’d</i>, but very <i>passionate</i>: Whose Lady dying, left him +only a Son and a Daughter; between whom there were about six Years +Difference in their Age. <i>Miles Hardyman</i> (for so the Son was +call’d) being the eldest; both of naturally virtuous Inclinations, which +were carefully improv’d by a generous and pious Education. <i>Miles</i> +was a very tall, large, and well-proportion’d Person at Two and Twenty; +brave and active, and seem’d to be born for War, tho’ he had a Heart as +tender and capable of receiving the Impressions of Love as any of our +Sex. He had been bred for some Years at the University; where, among +other Things, he learn’d to fence; in which, however, he was mightily +improv’d in a Twelvemonth’s Time that he stay’d here in Town. +<i>Lucretia</i>, his Sister, was beautiful enough, her Father designing +to give ten thousand Pounds with her on Marriage; but (which is above +all) she was incomparably good-humour’d.</p> + +<p>At his Return to his Father in the Country, young <i>Hardyman</i> +found Madam <i>Diana Constance</i>, a most beautiful Lady, with his +Sister, at that Time about 16 Years old; +<span class = "pagenum">472</span> +somewhat tall of her Age, of happy and virtuous <ins class = +"correction" title = "text has . for ,">Education,</ins> of an +indifferent Fortune, not exceeding two thousand Pounds, which was no Way +answerable to the Expectations he had after his Father’s Death; but it +was impossible he should not love her, she was so prodigiously charming +both in her inward and outward Excellencies; especially since he had the +Opportunity of conversing with her at his Father’s for above a Month. +’Tis true, he had seen her before, but it was then five Years since. +Love her he did then, and that most passionately; nor was she insensible +or ungrateful. But our young Lovers had not Discretion enough to conceal +the Symptoms of their Passion, which too visibly and frequently sally’d +out at their Eyes before the old Gentleman; which made him prudently, as +he thought, and timely enough, offer his Daughter <i>Lucretia</i> the +Liberty of taking a small Journey with <i>Diana</i> to her House, which +was not above 20 Miles thence, where that young Lady’s Aunt govern’d in +her Absence; for <i>Diana</i> had no other Relation, so near as she was, +living in <i>England</i>, her only Brother <i>Lewis</i> having been in +<i>Italy</i> and <i>France</i> ever since her Father dy’d, which was +then near five Years past.</p> + +<p><i>Lucretia</i>, over-joy’d at her Father’s pretended Kindness, +propos’d it to the young Lady, her Friend, who was very fond of the +Proposal, hoping that <i>Lucretia’s</i> Brother might bear ’em Company +there for some little Time; but old Sir <i>Henry</i> had quite different +Thoughts of the Matter. The third Day, from the first Discourse of it, +was assign’d for their Departure. In the mean Time young <i>Hardyman</i> +knew not what to think of the Divorce he was going to suffer; for he +began to have some Apprehensions that the old Knight was sensible, and +displeas’d, that they lov’d each other: Not but that the Family of the +<i>Constances</i> was as ancient and honourable as that of +<i>Hardymans</i>, and was once endow’d with as plentiful an Estate, tho’ +now young <i>Lewis Constance</i> had not above 1200<i>l.</i> a Year. +(O the unkind Distance that Money makes, even between Friends!)</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">473</span> +<p>Old ’Squire <i>Constance</i> was a very worthy Gentleman, and Sir +<i>Henry</i> had a particular Friendship for him; but (perhaps) that +dy’d with him, and only a neighbourly Kindness, or something more than +an ordinary Respect, surviv’d to his Posterity. The Day came that was to +carry ’em to the young Lady <i>Constance’s</i>, and her Lover was +preparing to attend ’em, when the old Gentleman ask’d him, What he meant +by that Preparation? And whether he design’d to leave him alone? Or if +he could think ’twere dutifully or decently done? To which the Son +reply’d, That his Care of his Sister, and his Respect to a young Lady, +in a Manner a Stranger to him, had misled his Thoughts from that Duty +and Regard he ought to have pay’d to his Father, which he hop’d and +begg’d he would pardon, tho’ he design’d only just to have seen her safe +there, and to have return’d at Night. With this the old Gentleman seem’d +pacify’d for the present; and he bid him go take Leave of the Lady; +which he did with a great deal of Concern, telling her, that he should +be most miserable ’till he had the Happiness of seeing her again; +however, he begg’d she would converse with him by Letters, which might +(happily) a little palliate his Misfortune in her Absence: Adding, +that he would be eternally hers, and none but hers. To which she made as +kind a Return as he could wish; letting him know, that she desired to +live no longer than she was assur’d that she was belov’d by him. Then +taking as solemn a Farewel of her as if he had never been to see her +more, after he had given his Sister a parting Kiss or two, he led ’em +down to his Father, who saw ’em mounted, and attended by two of his +Servants. After which he walked with ’em about a Mile from the House, +where he and young <i>Hardyman</i> left ’em to persue their Journey.</p> + +<p>In their Return to the House, said Sir <i>Henry</i>, I find, Son, +I have hitherto mistaken your Inclinations: I thought they had +altogether prompted you to great and manly Actions and Attempts; but, to +my Sorrow, I now find my Error. +<span class = "pagenum">474</span> +How, I beseech you, Sir? (ask’d the Son.) You are guilty of a +foolish lazy Passion, (reply’d the Father) you are in Love, +<i>Miles</i>; in Love with one who can no Way advance your Fortune, +Family, nor Fame. ’Tis true, she has Beauty, and o’my Conscience she is +virtuous too; but will Beauty and Virtue, with a small Portion of +2000<i>l.</i> answer to the Estate of near 4000<i>l.</i> a Year, which +you must inherit if you survive me? Beauty and Virtue, Sir, (return’d +young <i>Hardyman</i>) with the Addition of good Humour and Education, +is a Dowry that may merit a Crown. Notion! Stuff! All Stuff (cry’d the +old Knight) Money is Beauty, Virtue, good Humour, Education, Reputation, +and high Birth. Thank Heaven, Sir, (said <i>Miles</i>) you don’t live as +if you believ’d your own Doctrine; you part with your Money very freely +in your House-keeping, and I am happy to see it. ’Tis that I value it +for; (reply’d the Father) I would therefore have thee, my Son, add +to what in all Likelihood will be thine, so considerably, by Marriage, +that thou mayst better deserve the Character of Hospitable +<i>Hardyman</i> than thy Father Sir <i>Henry</i>.—Come, +<i>Miles</i>, (return’d he) thou shalt think no more on her. +I can’t avoid it, Sir, (said t’other.) Well, well, think of her you +may, (said Sir <i>Henry</i>) but not as for a Wife; no, if you mean to +continue in your Father’s Love, be not in Love with Madam <i>Diana</i>, +nor with any of her Nymphs, tho’ never so fair or so chast—unless +they have got Store of Money, Store of Money, <i>Miles</i>. Come, come +in, we’ll take a Game at <i>Chess</i> before Dinner, if we can. +I obey you, Sir, (return’d the Son) but if I win, I shall have +the Liberty to love the Lady, I hope. I made no such Promise, +(said the Knight) no, no Love without my Leave; but if you give me +<i>Checque-Mate</i>, you shall have my Bay Gelding, and I would not take +50 Broad Pieces for him. I’ll do my best, Sir, to deserve him, (said the +young Gentleman.) ’Tis a mettl’d and fiery Beast (said Sir +<i>Henry</i>.) They began their Game then, and had made about six Moves +apiece before Dinner, which was serv’d up near +<span class = "pagenum">475</span> +four Hours after they sate down to play. It happen’d they had no Company +din’d with ’em that Day; so they made a hasty Meal, and fell again to +their former Dispute, which held ’em near six Hours longer; when, either +the Knight’s Inadvertency, or the young Gentleman’s Skill and +Application, gave him the Victory and Reward.</p> + +<p>The next Day they hunted; the Day following, the House was fill’d +with Friends, and Strangers; who came with ’em; all which were certain +of a hearty Welcome e’er they return’d. Other Days other Company came +in, as Neighbours; and none of all that made their Visits, could be +dismiss’d under three or four Days at soonest.</p> + +<p>Thus they past the Hours away for about six Weeks; in all which Time +our Lover could get but one Opportunity of writing to his adorable, and +that was by the Means of a Servant, who came with a Letter from his +Sister <i>Lucretia</i> to Sir <i>Henry</i>, and another to him, that +held one inclos’d to him from the beautiful <i>Diana</i>; the Words, as +perfectly as I can remember ’em, were these, or to this Effect:</p> + +<p class = "salutation"> +<i>My <em>Hardyman</em>,</i></p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">Too</span> Dear!—No,—too much +lov’d!—That’s impossible too. How have I enjoy’d my self with your +Letters since my Absence from you! In the first, how movingly you lament +the unkind Distances of Time and Place that thus divorces you from me! +In another, in what tender and prevailing Words your Passion is +express’d! In a Third, what invincible Arguments are urg’d to prove the +Presence of your Soul to me in the Absence of your Body! A Fourth, +how fill’d with just Complaints of a rigorous Father! What Assurances +does the Fifth give me of your speedy Journey hither! And the Sixth, +(for no less methought I should have receiv’d from you) confirms what +you last said to me, <em>That you will ever be mine, and none but +mine.—O boundless Blessing!</em>—These (my Life) are +the Dreams, which, for six several Nights, have mock’d the real +Passion of</p> + +<p class = "right"> +<i>Your forgotten <em>Diana</em>.</i></p> + +<span class = "pagenum">476</span> +<p>He read it, smil’d, and kiss’d it, and then proceeded to examine his +Sisters, which held a great many Expressions of a tender Affection, and +withal gave him Notice, that there was a mighty Spark lately come from +Town into those Parts, that made his Court to the young Lady +<i>Constance</i>; desiring him therefore to be as sudden in his Visit, +if he intended any, as Possibility would permit. This startled and stung +him: Wherefore, taking the Opportunity of his Father’s Retirement, to +write to the young Lady and his Sister; he dispatch’d a Letter to +<i>Lucretia</i>, wherein he thank’d her for her Intelligence and +Caution, and promis’d to be with her the next Night at farthest, if +alive; and, at the same Time, writ to this Purpose to <i>Diana</i>:</p> + +<p class = "salutation"> +Thou only Blessing for which I wish to live,</p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">How</span> delightfully do you punish my +seeming Neglect! I acknowledge I have not sent to you ’till now, but it +was because it was utterly impossible, my Father continually keeping so +strict a Guard over me himself, that not even <em>Mercury</em> could +evade or illude his Vigilance. Alas! my Soul, he is now no Stranger to +my Passion for you, which he pretends, at least, is highly offensive to +him, for what Reasons I blush to think. But what signifies an Offence to +him of so generous a Nature as my Love! I am assured I was born for +you, or none other of your fair Sex, though attended with all the +Advantages of Birth and Fortune. I will therefore proceed in this +Affair, as if we were already united by the outward Ceremonies of the +Church, and forsake him and all the World for you, my better Part! Be +certain, therefore, that to-Morrow Night, e’er you sleep, you shall see +(my Life, my Soul, my All)</p> + +<p class = "rightside"> +Your most sincere, and<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span> Most passionate Lover,<br> +<span class = "gap"> </span><i>Hardyman</i>.</p> + +<p>This, with the Letter to his Sister, he convey’d into the Servant’s +Hand that came from ’em, undiscover’d of his Father; who likewise +dismiss’d the Messenger with +<span class = "pagenum">477</span> +his grave Epistle, full of musty Morals, to the two young gay Ladies. +But he had an unlucky Thought, that he was overseen in giving his Son +the Opportunity of retiring from him, whilst he was writing to his +Daughter and t’other fair Creature, having a Jealousy that young +<i>Hardyman</i> might have made Use of that very Article of Time to the +same End. This made him very uneasy and restless. On t’other Side, the +young Gentleman though he was extreamly satisfy’d with those endearing +Expressions of Love which he found in <i>Diana’s</i> Letter, yet he was +all on Fire with the Apprehension of a Rival, and the Desire to see him, +that he might dispute with him for the glorious Prize.</p> + +<p>The next Day, at Four in the Afternoon, they went to Bowls about a +Mile off; where, after several Ends, the Knight and his Party lay all +nearest about <a class = "comm" name = "unhappy_commtag1" id = +"unhappy_commtag1" href = "#unhappy_comm1">the Jack</a> for the Game, +’till young <i>Hardyman</i> put in a bold Cast, that beat all his +Adversaries from <a class = "comm" name = "unhappy_commtag2" id = +"unhappy_commtag2" href = "#unhappy_comm2">the Block</a>, and carry’d +two of his Seconds close to it, his own Bowl lying partly upon it, which +made them up. Ha! (cry’d a young Gentleman of his Side) bravely done, +<i>Miles</i>, thou hast carry’d the Day, and kiss’d the Mistress. +I hope I shall before ’tis dark yet, (return’d he.) Sir +<i>Henry</i> overhearing him, said, (his Face all glowing red with +Passion) How dare you, Sir, express your self so freely in my Hearing? +There, (persu’d he, and struck him a Blow on the Ear) I first +salute you thus: Do you know where you are, and who I am? Yes, you are +my Father, Sir, (reply’d young <i>Hardyman</i>, bowing.) If you see her +to Night, (said the passionate Father) resolve to see me no more. By +Heaven, and all my Hopes, no more I will, after this Minute, (return’d +the Son, being retreated some Distance from him, out of his Hearing.) So +taking his Leave of the Company, with the usual Ceremony, he went +directly Home, where immediately he order’d his Servant <i>Goodlad</i> +to saddle their Horses, whilst he himself went up to his +<span class = "pagenum">478</span> +Chamber, and took all the Rings and Jewels that his Mother had left him, +and the Money that he had then in his Possession, which altogether +amounted to near twelve hundred Pounds; and packing up some Linnen in +his Portmanteau, he quickly mounted with his Servant, and made his Way +towards the Lady <i>Constance’s</i>.</p> + +<p>’Twas near seven a Clock e’er they got within Sight of his +Mistress’s, when our Lover perceiv’d a Gentleman and his Servant mounted +at some Distance on t’other Side of the House, as coming from +<i>London</i>: This unfortunately happen’d to be <i>Lewis Constance</i>, +just return’d from his Travels, whom young <i>Hardyman</i> had never +seen before, and therefore could not know him at that Time: Observing +therefore that they made to the same Place for which he was design’d, he +halted a little, taking Covert under a large Elm-Tree, within a hundred +Paces of the House, where he had the unlucky Opportunity to see his +Mistress and Sister come out; whom <i>Lewis</i> perceiving at the same +Time, alighted, and ran eagerly to embrace her, who receiv’d him with +Arms expanded, crying, O my Dear, dearest Brother; but that last +Word was stifled with Kisses. Do I once more hold thee in my Arms! +O come in, and let me give my Joys a Loose! I am surpriz’d, +and rave with extream Hapiness! O! thou art all to me that is valuable +on Earth! (return’d he.) At these Words she, in a Manner, hal’d him +in. This Sight was certainly the greatest Mortification to her Lover +that ever Man surviv’d! He presently and positively concluded it could +be none but that Rival, of whom his Sister had given him Advice in her +Letter. What to do he could by no Means determine; sometimes he was for +going in, and affronting him before his Mistress; a second Thought +advis’d him to expect his coming out near that Place; upon another +Consideration he was going to send him a Challenge, but by whom he knew +not, for his Servant was as well known there as himself. At last he +resolv’d to ride farther out +<span class = "pagenum">479</span> +of the Road, to see for some convenient Retreat that Night, where he +might be undiscover’d: Such a Place he found about two Miles thence, at +a good substantial Farmer’s, who made him heartily welcome that Night, +with the best Beer he had in his Cellar, so that he slept much better +than he could have expected his Jealousy would have permitted: But the +Morning renew’d and redoubled his Torture: But this jolly Landlord, +hugely pleas’d with his good Company the Night past, visited him as he +got out of his Bed, which was near two Hours after he wak’d; in which +Time he had laid his Design how to proceed, in order to take +Satisfaction of this Rival. He suffer’d himself, therefore, to be +manag’d by the good Man of the House, who wou’d fain have made a +Conquest of him; but he found that the young Gentleman could bear as +much in his Head as he could on his Shoulders, which gave +<i>Hardyman</i> the Opportunity of keeping a Stowage yet for a good +Dinner: After which they fell to bumping it about, ’till the Farmer fell +asleep; when young <i>Hardyman</i> retir’d into his Chamber, where, +after a Turn or two, he writ as follows to his Mistress’s Brother, whose +Name he knew not; and therefore the Billet is not superscrib’d.</p> + +<p class = "salutation"><i>SIR,</i></p> + +<p class = "letter"> +<span class = "firstword">You</span> have done me an unpardonable +Injury; and if you are a Gentleman, as you seem, you will give me +Satisfaction within this Hour at the Place whither this Messenger shall +lead you. Bring nothing with you but your Sword and your Servant, as I +with mine, to take Care of him that falls.—’Till I see you, +I am your Servant, <em>&c.</em></p> + +<p>An Hour before Supper, his kind Host wak’d, and they eat heartily +together that Night, but did not drink so plentifully as they had since +their first Meeting; young <i>Hardyman</i> telling him, that he was +oblig’d to be mounted at the fore-mention’d Morning, in order to persue +his Journey; and that, in the mean Time, he desir’d the +<span class = "pagenum">480</span> +Favour of him to let one of his Servants carry a Letter from him, to one +that was then at the young Lady <i>Constance’s</i>: To which t’other +readily agreed. The young Gentleman then made him a Present of a +Tobacco-Box, with the Head of King <i>Charles</i> the First on the Lid, +and his Arms on the Bottom in Silver; which was very acceptable to him, +for he was a great Loyalist, tho’ it was in the Height of <i>Oliver’s +Usurpation</i>. About four a-Clock in the Morning, as our jealous Lover +had order’d him, one of the Servants came to him for the Letter; with +which he receiv’d these Instructions, that he should deliver that Note +into the Gentleman’s own Hand, who came to the Lady <i>Constance’s</i> +the Night before the last. That he should shew that Gentleman to the +Field where young <i>Hardyman</i>, should deliver the Note to the +Servant, which was just a Mile from either House; or that he should +bring an Answer to the Note from that Gentleman. The Fellow was a good +Scholar, tho’ he could neither read nor write. For he learn’d his Lesson +perfectly well, and repeated it punctually to <i>Lewis Constance</i>; +who was strangely surpriz’d at what he found in the Billet. He ask’d the +Messenger if he knew his Name that sent it; or if he were a Gentleman? +Nay (Mass, quoth the Fellow) I warrant he’s a Gentleman; for he has +given me nine good Shillings here, for coming but hither to you; but for +his Name, you may e’en name it as well as I—He has got one to wait +a top of him almost as fine as himself, zure. The surpriz’d Traveller +jump’d out of his Bed, slipt on his Gown, and call’d up his Servant: +Thence he went to his Sister’s Chamber, with whom <i>Lucretia</i> lay: +They both happen’d to be awake, and talking, as he came to the Door, +which his Sister permitted him to unlock, and ask’d him the Reason of +his so early Rising? Who reply’d, That since he could not sleep, he +would take the Air a little. But first, Sister (continu’d he) +I will refresh my self at your Lips: And now, Madam, (added he to +<i>Lucretia</i>) I would beg +<span class = "pagenum">481</span> +a Cordial from you. For that (said his Sister) you shall be oblig’d to +me this once; saying so, she gently turn’d <i>Lucretia’s</i> Face +towards him, and he had his Wish. Ten to one, but he had rather +continu’d with <i>Lucretia</i>, than have gone to her Brother, had he +known him; for he lov’d her truly and passionately: But being a Man of +true Courage and Honour, he took his Leave of ’em, presently dress’d, +and tripp’d away with the Messenger, who made more than ordinary Haste, +because of his Success, <ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads ‘which which’"> which</ins> was rewarded with another piece of Money; +and he danc’d Home to the Sound of the Money in his Pocket.</p> + +<p>No sooner was the Fellow out of Hearing, than <i>Lewis</i>, coming up +to his Adversary, shew’d him the Billet, and said, Sent you this to me, +Sir? I did, Sir, reply’d <i>Hardyman</i>: I never saw you ’till +now, return’d <i>Lewis</i>; how then could I injure you? ’Tis enough +that I know it, answer’d <i>Miles</i>. But to satisfy you, you shall +know that I am sensible that you pretend to a fair Lady, to whom I have +an elder Title. In short, you entrench on my Prerogative. I own no +Subjection to you, (return’d <i>Constance</i>) and my Title is as good +as your Prerogative, which I will maintain as I can hold this, +(continu’d he, and drew his Sword) Hah! Nobly done! (cry’d +<i>Hardyman</i> drawing) I could almost wish thou wert my Friend: +You speak generously, return’d <i>Lewis</i>, I find I have to do with a +Gentleman. Retire to a convenient Distance, said <i>Hardyman</i> to +<i>Goodlad</i>. If you come near while we are disputing, my Sword shall +thank you for’t; and you, Sir, retire! said <i>Constance</i> to his +Servant. And if you will keep your Life, keep your Distance! O my +brave Enemy! (cry’d <i>Miles</i>) Give me thy Hand! Here they shook +Hands, and gave one another the Compliment of the Hat, and then (said +<i>Hardyman</i>) Come on, Sir! I am with you, Sir, (reply’d +<i>Lewis</i> standing on his Guard) they were both equally knowing in +the Use of their Swords; so that they fought for some few Minutes +without any Wound receiv’d +<span class = "pagenum">482</span> +on either Side. But, at last, <i>Miles</i> being taller and much +stronger than his Adversary, resolv’d to close with him; which he did, +putting by a Pass that <i>Lewis</i> made at him with his left Hand, and +at the same Time he run him quite thro’ the Body, threw him, and +disarm’d him. Rise if thou can’st! (cry’d <i>Hardyman</i>) thou art +really brave. I will not put thee to the Shame of asking thy Life. +Alas! I cannot rise, (reply’d <i>Lewis</i>, endeavouring to +get up) so short a Life as mine were not worth the Breath of a +Coward.—Make Haste! Fly hence! For thou are lost if thou stay’st. +My Friends are many and great; they will murther thee by Law. Fly! Fly +in Time! Heaven forgive us both! Amen! (Cry’d <i>Miles</i>) I hope thou +may’st recover! ’Tis Pity so much Bravery and Honour should be lost so +early. Farewel.—And now Adieu to the fair and faithless +<i>Diana</i>! Ha! (Cry’d <i>Constance</i>) O bloody Mistake! But could +speak no more for Loss of Blood. <i>Hardyman</i> heard not those last +Words, being spoken with a fainting Voice, but in Haste mounted, and +rode with all Speed for <i>London</i>, attended by <i>Goodlad</i>; +whilst <i>Constance’s</i> Servant came up to him, and having all along +travell’d with him, had two or three Times the Occasion of making Use of +that Skill in Surgery which he had learn’d Abroad in <i>France</i> and +<i>Italy</i>, which he now again practis’d on his Master, with such +Success, that in less than half an Hour, he put his Master in a Capacity +of leaning on him; and so walking Home with him, tho’ very gently and +slowly. By the Way, <i>Lewis</i> charg’d his Servant not to say which +Way <i>Hardyman</i> took, unless he design’d to quit his Service for +ever. But pardon me, Sir! (return’d t’other) your Wound is very +dangerous, and I am not sure that it is not mortal: And if so, give me +Leave to say, I shall persue him over all <i>England</i>, for +Vengeance of your Death. ’Twas a Mistake on both Sides, I find; +(said <i>Lewis</i>) therefore think not of Revenge: I was as hot +and as much to blame as he. They were near an Hour getting to the House, +after +<span class = "pagenum">483</span> +his Blood was stopp’d. As he was led in, designing to be carry’d to his +Chamber, and to take his Bed as sick of an Ague, his Sister and +<i>Lucretia</i> met him, and both swoon’d away at the Sight of him; but +in a little Time they were recover’d, as if to torment him with their +Tears, Sighs, and Lamentations. They ask’d him a thousand impertinent +Questions, which he defer’d to answer, ’till he was laid in Bed; when he +told his Sister, that the Gentleman who had thus treated him, bid her +Adieu, by the Epithet of Fair and Faithless. For Heaven’s Sake, (cry’d +<i>Diana</i>) what Manner of Man was he? Very tall and well set, +(reply’d her Brother) of an austere Aspect, but a well-favour’d Face, +and prodigiously strong. Had he a Servant with him, Sir? (ask’d +<i>Lucretia</i>) Yes, Madam (answer’d her Lover) and describ’d her +Servant. Ah! my Prophetic Fears (cry’d she) It was my Brother, attended +by <i>Goodlad</i>. Your Brother! Dearest and Fairest of your Sex, (said +<i>Lewis</i>) Heaven send him safely out of <i>England</i> then! Nay, be +he who he may, I wish the same; for he is truly brave. Alas, my +dear, my cruel <i>Hardyman</i>! (cry’d <i>Diana</i>) Your +<i>Hardyman</i>, Sister! (said <i>Lewis</i>) Ah! would he had been so! +You might then have had Hopes of an affectionate Brother’s Life; which +yet I will endeavour to preserve, that by the Enjoyment of your dear and +nearest Conversation, Madam, (persu’d he to <i>Lucretia</i>) I may be +prepar’d to endure the only greater Joys of Heaven. But O! My Words prey +on my Spirits. And all the World, like a huge Ship at Anchor, turn round +with the ebbing Tide.—I can no more. At these Words both the +Ladies shriek’d aloud, which made him sigh, and move his Hand as well as +he could toward the Door; his Attendant perceiv’d it, and told ’em he +sign’d to them to quit the Room; as indeed it was necessary they should, +that he might repose a while if possible, at least that he might not be +oblig’d to talk, nor look much about him. They obey’d the Necessity, but +with some Reluctancy, and went into their own Chamber, +<span class = "pagenum">484</span> +where they sigh’d, wept, and lamented their Misfortunes for near two +Hours together: When all on a suddain, the Aunt, who had her Share of +Sorrow too in this ugly Business, came running up to ’em, to let ’em +know that old Sir <i>Harry Hardyman</i> was below, and came to carry his +Daughter Madam <i>Lucretia</i> Home with him. This both surpriz’d and +troubled the young Ladies, who were yet more disturb’d, when the Aunt +told them, that he enquir’d for his Son, and would not be convinc’d by +any Argument whatever; no, nor Protestation in her Capacity, that young +<i>Hardyman</i> was not in the House, nor that he had not been +entertain’d there ever since he left his Father—But come, Cousin +and Madam, (said she to the young Ladies) go down to him immediately, or +I fear he’ll come up to you. <i>Lucretia</i> knew she must, and t’other +would not be there alone: So down they came to the Old testy Gentleman. +Your Servant, Lady, (said he to <i>Diana</i>) <i>Lucretia</i> then +kneel’d for his Blessing. Very well, very well, (cry’d he hastily) God +bless you! Where’s your Brother? Ha! Where’s your Brother? I know +not, Sir, (she answer’d) I have not seen him since I have been +here. No, (said he) not since you have been in this Parlour last, +you mean. I mean, Sir, (she return’d) upon my Hopes of yours and +Heaven’s Blessing, I have not seen him since I saw you, Sir, within +a Mile of our own House. Ha! <i>Lucretia</i>, Ha! (cry’d the old +Infidel) have a Care you pull not mine and Heaven’s Curse on your Head! +Believe me, Sir, (said <i>Diana</i>) to my Knowledge, she has not. Why, +Lady, (ask’d the passionate Knight) are you so curious and fond of him +your self, that you will allow no Body else the Sight of him? Not so +much as his own Sister? I don’t understand you, Sir, (she reply’d) +for, by my Hopes of Heaven, I have not seen him neither since that +Day I left you. Hey! pass and repass, (cry’d the old suspicious Father) +<i>presto</i>, be gone!—This is all Conjuration. ’Tis diabolical, +dealing with the Devil! In Lies, I mean, on one Side or other; for +he told me to my +<span class = "pagenum">485</span> +Teeth, at least, he said in my Hearing, on the Bowling-Green, but two +Nights since, that he hop’d to see your Ladyship (for I suppose you are +his Mistress) that Night e’re ’twas dark: Upon which I gave him only a +kind and fatherly Memorandum of his Duty, and he immediately left the +Company and me, who have not set Eye on him, nor heard one Syllable of +him since.—Now, judge you, Lady, if I have not Reason to conclude +that he has been and is above still! No, (said the Aunt) you have no +Reason to conclude so, when they both have told you solemnly the +contrary; and when I can add, that I will take a formal Oath, if +requir’d, that he has not been in this House since my Cousin +<i>Lewis</i> went to travel, nor before, to the best of my Memory; and I +am confident, neither my Cousin <i>Diana</i>, nor the Lady your +Daughter, have seen him since they left him with you, +Sir—I wish, indeed, my dear Cousin <i>Lewis</i> had not seen +him since. How! What’s that you say, good Lady? (ask’d the Knight) Is +Mr. <i>Lewis Constance</i> then in <i>England</i>? And do you think that +he has seen him so lately? for your Discourse seems to imply as much. +Sir <i>Henry</i>, (reply’d the Aunt) you are very big with Questions, +but I will endeavour to satisfy you in all of ’em.—My Cousin +<i>Lewis Constance</i> is in <i>England</i>; nay, more, he is now in his +Chamber a-Bed, and dangerously, if not mortally, wounded, by ’Squire +<i>Miles Hardyman</i>, your Son. Heaven forbid, (cry’d the Father) sure +’tis impossible. All Things are so to the Incredulous. Look you, Sir, +(continu’d she, seeing <i>Lewis’s</i> Servant come in) do you +remember his <i>French</i> Servant <i>Albert</i>, whom he took some +Months before he left <i>England</i>?—There he is. Humh! (said the +old Sceptic) I think verily ’tis the same. Ay, Sir, (said the +Servant) I am the same, at your Service. How does your Master? +(ask’d Sir <i>Henry</i>) Almost as bad as when the ’Squire your Son left +him, (reply’d <i>Albert</i>) only I have stopp’d the Bleeding, and he is +now dozing a little; to say the Truth, I have only Hopes of his +Life because +<span class = "pagenum">486</span> +I wish it. When was this done? (the Knight inquir’d) Not three Hours +since, (return’d t’other.) What was the Occasion? (said Sir +<i>Henry</i>) An ugly Mistake on both Sides; your Son, as I understand, +not knowing my Master, took him for his Rival, and bad him quit his +Pretensions to the fair Lady, for whom he had a Passion: My Master +thought he meant the Lady <i>Lucretia</i>, your Daughter, Sir, with whom +I find he is passionately in Love,—and—Very +well—so—go on! (interrupted the Knight with a +Sigh)—and was resolv’d to dispute his Title with him; which he +did; but the ’Squire is as strong as the Horse he rides on!—And! +’tis a desperate Wound!—Which Way is he gone, canst thou tell? +(ask’d the Father) Yes, I can; but I must not, ’tis as much as my +Place is worth. My Master would not have him taken for all the World; +nay, I must needs own he is a very brave Person. But you may let me +know; (said the Father) you may be confident I will not expose him to +the Law: Besides, if it please Heaven that your Master recovers, there +will be no Necessity of a Prosecution.—Prithee let me know! You’ll +pardon me, Sir, (said <i>Lewis’s</i> trusty Servant) my Master, perhaps, +may give you that Satisfaction; and I’ll give you Notice, Sir—when +you may conveniently discourse him.—Your humble Servant, Sir, +(he added, bowing, and went out.) The old Gentleman was strangely +mortify’d at this News of his Son; and his Absence perplex’d him more +than any thing besides in the Relation. He walk’d wildly up and down the +Room, sighing, foaming, and rolling his Eyes in a dreadful Manner; and +at the Noise of any Horse on the Road, out he would start as nimbly as +if he were as youthful as his Son, whom he sought in vain among those +Passengers. Then returning, he cry’d out to her, O <i>Lucretia</i>! +Your Brother! Where’s your Brother?—O my Son! the Delight, +Comfort, and Pride of my Old Age! Why dost thou fly me? Then answering +as for young <i>Hardyman</i>, (said he) you struck me publickly +before much Company, in the Face of +<span class = "pagenum">487</span> +my Companions.—Come, (reply’d he for himself) ’Twas Passion, +<i>Miles</i>, ’twas Passion; Youth is guilty of many Errors, and shall +not Age be allow’d their Infirmities? <i>Miles</i>, thou know’st I love +thee.—Love thee above Riches or long Life.—O! Come to my +Arms, dear Fugitive, and make Haste to preserve his, who gave thee thy +Life!—Thus he went raving about the Room, whilst the sorrowful, +compassionate Ladies express’d their Grief in Tears. After this loving +Fit was over with him, he would start out in a contrary Madness, and +threaten his Son with the greatest and the heaviest Punishment he could +imagine; insomuch, that the young Ladies, who had Thoughts before of +perswading <i>Lewis</i> to inform Sir <i>Harry</i> which Way his Son +rode, were now afraid of proposing any such Thing to him. Dinner was at +last serv’d in, to which <i>Diana</i> with much Difficulty prevail’d +with him to sit. Indeed, neither he, nor any there present, had any +great Appetite to eat; their Grief had more than satiated ’em. About +five a-Clock, <i>Albert</i> signify’d to the Knight, that he might then +most conveniently speak with his Master; but he begg’d that he would not +disturb him beyond half a Quarter of an Hour: He went up therefore to +him, follow’d by the young Lady and the Aunt: <i>Lewis</i> was the first +that spoke, who, putting his Hand a little out of the Bed, said with a +Sigh, Sir <i>Henry</i>, I hope you will pity a great Misfortune, and +endeavour to pardon me, who was the greatest Occasion of it; which has +doubly punish’d me in these Wounds, and in the Loss of that Gentleman’s +Conversation, whose only Friendship I would have courted. Heaven pardon +you both the Injuries done to one another; (return’d the Knight) +I grieve to see you thus, and the more, when I remember my self +that ’twas done by my Son’s unlucky Hand. Would he were here.—So +would not I (said <i>Lewis</i>) ’till I am assur’d my Wound is not +mortal, which I have some Reasons to believe it is not. Let me beg one +Favour of you, Sir, (said Sir <i>Henry</i>) I beseech you do not deny +<span class = "pagenum">488</span> +me. It must be a very difficult Matter that you, Sir, shall not command +of me, (reply’d <i>Constance</i>.) It can’t be difficult to you to tell +me, or to command your Servant to let me know what Road my Son took. He +may be at <i>Bristol</i> long e’re this, (return’d <i>Lewis</i>.) That +was the Road they took (added the Servant.) I thank you, my worthy, +my kind Friend! (said the afflicted Father) I will study to deserve +this Kindness of you. How do you find your self now? that I may send him +an Account by my Servant, if he is to be found in that City? Pretty +hearty, (return’d <i>Lewis</i>) if the Wounds your adorable Daughter +here has given me, do not prove more fatal than my Friend’s your Son’s. +She blush’d, and he persu’d, My Servant has sent for the best Physician +and Surgeon in all these Parts; I expect them every Minute, and +then I shall be rightly inform’d in the State of my Body. I will +defer my Messenger ’till then (said Sir <i>Henry</i>.) I will leave that +to your Discretion, Sir, (return’d <i>Constance</i>.) As they were +discoursing of ’em, in came the learned Sons of Art: The Surgeon prob’d +his Wound afresh, which he found very large, but not mortal, his Loss of +Blood being the most dangerous of all his Circumstances. The +Country-<i>Æsculapius</i> approv’d of his first Intention, and of his +Application; so dressing it once himself, he left the Cure of Health to +the Physician, who prescrib’d some particular Remedy against Fevers, and +a Cordial or two; took his Fee without any Scruples, as the Surgeon had +done before, and then took both their Leaves. Sir <i>Henry</i> was as +joyful as <i>Lewis’s</i> Sister, or as his own Daughter <i>Lucretia</i>, +who lov’d him perfectly, to hear the Wound was not mortal; and +immediately dispatch’d a Man and Horse to <i>Bristol</i>, in Search of +his Son: The Messenger return’d in a short Time with this Account only, +that such a kind of a Gentleman and his Servant took Shipping the Day +before, as ’twas suppos’d, for <i>London</i>. This put the old Gentleman +into a perfect Frenzy. He ask’d the Fellow, Why the Devil he did not +give +<span class = "pagenum">489</span> +his Son the Letter he sent to him? Why he did not tell him, that his +poor old forsaken Father would receive him with all the Tenderness of an +indulgent Parent? And why he did not assure his Son, from him, that on +his Return, he should be bless’d with the Lady <i>Diana</i>? And a +thousand other extravagant Questions, which no body could reply to any +better than the Messenger, who told him, trembling; First, That he could +not deliver the Letter to his Son, because he could not find him: And +Secondly and Lastly, being an Answer in full to all his Demands, That he +could not, nor durst tell the young Gentleman any of those kind Things, +since he had no Order to do so; nor could he enter into his Worship’s +Heart, to know his Thoughts: Which Return, tho’ it was reasonable +enough, and might have been satisfactory to any other Man in better +Circumstances of Mind; so enrag’d Sir <i>Henry</i>, that he had +certainly kill’d the poor Slave, had not the Fellow sav’d his Life by +jumping down almost half the Stairs, and continuing his Flight, Sir +<i>Henry</i> still persuing him, ’till he came to the Stables, where +finding the Door open, Sir <i>Henry</i> ran in and saddl’d his Horse his +own self, without staying for any Attendant, or so much as taking his +Leave of the Wounded Gentleman, or Ladies, or giving Orders to his +Daughter when she should follow him Home, whither he was posting alone; +but the Servant who came out with him, accidentally seeing him as he +rode out at the farthest Gate, so timely persu’d him, that he overtook +him about a Mile and half off the House. Home they got then in less than +three Hours Time, without one Word or Syllable all the Way on either +Side, unless now and then a hearty Sigh or Groan from the afflicted +Father, whose Passion was so violent, and had so disorder’d him, that he +was constrain’d immediately to go to Bed, where he was seiz’d with a +dangerous Fever, which was attended with a strange <i>Delirium</i>, or +rather with an absolute Madness, of which the Lady <i>Lucretia</i> had +Advice that same Night, +<span class = "pagenum">490</span> +tho’ very late. This News so surpriz’d and afflicted her, as well for +the Danger of her Lover as of her Father, that it threw her into a +Swoon; out of which, when, with some Difficulty she was recover’d, with +great Perplexity and Anguish of Mind she took a sad Farewel of the Lady +<i>Diana</i>, but durst not be seen by her Brother on such an Occasion, +as of taking Leave, lest it should retard his Recovery: To her Father’s +then she was convey’d with all convenient Expedition: The old Gentleman +was so assiduously and lawfully attended by his fair affectionate +Daughter, that in less than ten Days Time his Fever was much abated, and +his <i>Delirium</i> had quite left him, and he knew every Body about him +perfectly; only the Thoughts of his Son, by Fits, would choak and +discompose him: However, he was very sensible of his Daughter’s Piety in +her Care of him, which was no little Comfort to him: Nor, indeed, could +he be otherwise than sensible of it by her Looks, which were then pale +and thin, by over-watching; which occasion’d her Sickness, as it caus’d +her Father’s Health: For no sooner could Sir <i>Henry</i> walk about the +Room, than she was forc’d to keep her Bed; being afflicted with the same +Distemper from which her Father was yet but hardly freed: Her Fever was +high, but the <i>Delirium</i> was not so great: In which, yet, she +should often discover her Passion for <i>Lewis Constance</i>, her +wounded Lover; lamenting the great Danger his Life had been in, as if +she had not receiv’d daily Letters of his Amendment. Then again, she +would complain of her Brother’s Absence, but more frequently of her +Lover’s; which her Father hearing, sent to invite him to come to her, +with his Sister, as soon as young <i>Constance</i> was able to undertake +the Journey; which he did the very next Day; and he and <i>Diana</i> +gave the languishing Lady a Visit in her Chamber, just in the happy Time +of an Interval, which, ’tis suppos’d, was the sole Cause of her +Recovery; for the Sight of her Lover and Friend was better than the +richest Cordial in her +<span class = "pagenum">491</span> +Distemper. In a very short Time she left her Bed, when Sir <i>Henry</i>, +to give her perfect Health, himself join’d the two Lovers Hands; and not +many Weeks after, when her Beauty and Strength return’d in their wonted +Vigour, he gave her 10000<i>l.</i> and his Blessing, which was a double +Portion, on their Wedding-Day, which he celebrated with all the Cost and +Mirth that his Estate and Sorrow would permit: Sorrow for the Loss of +his Son, I mean, which still hung upon him, and still hover’d and +croak’d over and about him, as Ravens, and other Birds of Prey, about +Camps and dying People. His Melancholy, in few Months, increas’d to that +Degree, that all Company and Conversation was odious to him, but that of +Bats, Owls, Night-Ravens, <i>&c.</i> Nay, even his Daughter, his +dear and only Child, as he imagin’d, was industriously avoided by him. +In short, it got so intire a Mastery of him, that he would not nor did +receive any Sustenance for many Days together; and at last it confin’d +him to his Bed; where he lay wilfully speechless for two Days and +Nights; his Son-in-Law, or his own Daughter, still attending a-Nights by +Turns; when on the third Night, his <i>Lucretia</i> sitting close by him +in Tears, he fetch’d a deep Sigh, which ended in a pitious Groan, and +call’d faintly, <i>Lucretia! Lucretia!</i> The Lady being then almost as +melancholy as her Father, did not hear him ’till the third Call; when +falling on her Knees, and embracing his Hand, which he held out to her, +she return’d with Tears then gushing out, Yes, Sir, it is I, your +<i>Lucretia</i>, your dutiful, obedient, and affectionate +<i>Lucretia</i>, and most sorrowfully-afflicted Daughter. Bless her, +Heaven! (said the Father) I’m going now, (continu’d he weakly) +O <i>Miles</i>! yet come and take thy last Farewel of thy dear +Father! Art thou for ever gone from me? Wilt thou not come and take thy +dying Father’s Blessing? Then I will send it after thee. Bless him! +O Heaven! Bless him! Sweet Heaven bless my Son! My <i>Miles</i>! +Here he began to faulter in his Speech, when the Lady gave a +<span class = "pagenum">492</span> +great Shriek, which wak’d and alarm’d her Husband, who ran down to ’em +in his Night-Gown, and, kneeling by the Bed-side with his Lady, begg’d +their departing Father’s Blessing on them. The Shriek had +(it seems) recall’d the dying Gentleman’s fleeting Spirits, who +moving his Hand as well as he could, with Eyes lifted up, as it were, +whisper’d, Heaven bless you both! Bless me! Bless my—O +<i>Miles</i>! Then dy’d. His Death (no Doubt) was attended with the +Sighs, Tears, and unfeign’d Lamentations of the Lady and her Husband; +for, bating his sudden Passion, he was certainly as good a Father, +Friend, and Neighbour, as <i>England</i> could boast. His Funeral was +celebrated then with all the Ceremonies due to his Quality and Estate: +And the young happy Couple felt their dying Parent’s Blessing in their +mutual Love and uninterrupted Tranquillity: Whilst (alas) it yet far’d +otherwise with their Brother; of whose Fortune it is fit I should now +give you an Account.</p> + +<p>From <i>Bristol</i> he arriv’d to <i>London</i> with his Servant +<i>Goodlad</i>; to whom he propos’d, either that he should return to Sir +<i>Henry</i>, or share in his Fortunes Abroad: The faithful Servant told +him, he would rather be unhappy in his Service, than quit it for a large +Estate. To which his kind Master return’d, (embracing him) No more my +Servant now, but my Friend! No more <i>Goodlad</i>, but <i>Truelove</i>! +And I am—<i>Lostall</i>! ’Tis a very proper Name, suitable to my +wretched Circumstances. So after some farther Discourse on their Design, +they sold their Horses, took Shipping, and went for <i>Germany</i>, +where then was the Seat of War.</p> + +<p><i>Miles’s</i> Person and Address soon recommended him to the chief +Officers in the Army; and his Friend <i>Truelove</i> was very well +accepted with ’em. They both then mounted in the same Regiment and +Company, as Volunteers; and in the first Battel behav’d themselves like +brave <i>English</i>-men; especially <i>Miles</i>, whom now we must call +Mr. <i>Lostall</i>, who +<span class = "pagenum">493</span> +signaliz’d himself that Day so much, that his Captain and Lieutenant +being kill’d, he succeeded to the former in the Command of the Company, +and <i>Truelove</i> was made his Lieutenant. The next Field-Fight +<i>Truelove</i> was kill’d, and <i>Lostall</i> much wounded, after he +had sufficiently reveng’d his Friend’s Death by the Slaughter of many of +the Enemies. Here it was that his Bravery was so particular, that he was +courted by the Lieutenant-General to accept of the Command of a Troop of +Horse; which gave him fresh and continu’d Occasions of manifesting his +Courage and Conduct. All this while he liv’d too generously for his Pay; +so that in the three or four Years Time, the War ceasing, he was oblig’d +to make use of what Jewels and Money he had left of his own, for his Pay +was quite spent. But at last his whole Fund being exhausted to about +fifty or threescore Pounds, he began to have Thoughts of returning to +his native Country, <i>England</i>; which in a few Weeks he did, and +appear’d at the <i>Tower</i> to some of his Majesty’s (King +<i>Charles</i> the Second’s) Officers, in a very plain and coarse, but +clean and decent Habit: To one of these Officers he address’d himself, +and desir’d to mount his Guards under his Command, and in his Company; +who very readily receiv’d him into Pay. (The Royal Family had not then +been restor’d much above a Twelve-Month.) In this Post, his Behaviour +was such, that he was generally belov’d both by the Officers and private +Soldiers, most punctually and exactly doing his Duty; and when he was +off the Guard, he would employ himself in any laborious Way whatsoever +to get a little Money. And it happen’d, that one Afternoon, as he was +helping to clean the <i>Tower</i> Ditch, (for he refus’d not to do the +meanest Office, in Hopes to expiate his Crime by such voluntary +Penances) a Gentleman, very richly dress’d, coming that Way, saw +him at Work; and taking particular Notice of him, thought he should know +that Face of his, though some of the Lines had been struck out by a Scar +or two: +<span class = "pagenum">494</span> +And regarding him more earnestly, he was at last fully confirm’d, that +he was the Man he thought him; which made him say to the Soldier, +Prithee, Friend, What art thou doing there? The unhappy Gentleman +return’d, in his Country Dialect, Why, Master, Cham helping to clear the +<i>Tower</i> Ditch, zure, an’t please you. ’Tis very hot, (said t’other) +Art thou not a dry? Could’st thou not drink? Ay, Master, reply’d the +Soldier, with all my Heart. Well, (said the Gentleman) I’ll give thee a +Flaggon or two; Where is the best Drink? At yonder House, Master, +(answer’d the Soldier) where you see yon Soldier at the Door, there be +the best Drink and the best Measure, zure: Chil woit a top o your +Worship az Zoon as you be got thare. I’ll take thy Word, said t’other, +and went directly to the Place; where he had hardly sate down, and +call’d for some Drink, e’er the Soldier came in, to whom the Gentleman +gave one Pot, and drank to him out of another. <i>Lostall</i>, that was +the Soldier, whipp’d off his Flaggon, and said, bowing, Well, Master, +God bless your Worship! Ich can but love and thank you, and was going; +but the Gentleman, who had farther Business with him, with some +Difficulty prevail’d on him to sit down, for a Minute or two, after the +Soldier had urg’d that he must mind his Business, for he had yet half a +Day’s Work almost to complete, and he would not wrong any Body of a +Quarter of an Hour’s Labour for all the World. Th’art a very honest +Fellow, I believe, said his Friend; but prithee what does thy whole +Day’s Work come to? Eighteen-pence, reply’d <i>Lostall</i>: Look, there +’tis for thee, said the Gentleman. Ay; but an’t like your Worship, who +must make an End of my Day’s Business? (the Soldier ask’d.) Get any Body +else to do it for thee, and I’ll pay him. Can’st prevail with one of thy +Fellow-Soldiers to be so kind? Yes, Master, thank God, cham not so ill +belov’d nother. Here’s honest <i>Frank</i> will do so much vor me, Zure: +Wilt not, <i>Frank</i>? (withal my Heart, <i>Tom</i>, reply’d his +Comrade.) Here, Friend, (said <i>Lostall’s</i> +<span class = "pagenum">495</span> +new Acquaintance) here’s Eighteen-pence for thee too. I thank your +Honour, return’d the Soldier, but should have but Nine-pence. No Matter +what thou should’st have, I’ll give thee no less, said the strange +Gentleman. Heavens bless your Honour! (cry’d the Soldier) and after he +had swigg’d off a Pot of good Drink, took <i>Lostall’s</i> Pick-ax and +Spade, and went about his Business. Now (said the Stranger) let us go +and take a Glass of Wine, if there be any that is good hereabouts, for I +fancy thou’rt a mighty honest Fellow; and I like thy Company mainly. +Cham very much bound to behold you, Master, (return’d <i>Lostall</i>) +and chave a Fancy that you be and a <i>West</i>-Country-Man, zure; +(added he) you do a take zo like en; <a class = "comm" name = +"unhappy_commtag3" id = "unhappy_commtag3" href = "#unhappy_comm3">vor +<i>Mainly</i> be our Country Word, zure</a>. We’ll talk more of that by +and by, said t’other: Mean while I’ll discharge the House, and walk +whither thou wilt lead me. That shan’t be var, zure; (return’d +<i>Lostall</i>) vor <a class = "comm" name = "unhappy_commtag4" id = +"unhappy_commtag4" href = "#unhappy_comm4">the <i>Gun</i></a> upon the +Hill there, has the best Report for Wine and Zeck Ale hereabouts. There +they arriv’d then in a little Time, got a Room to themselves, and had +better Wine than the Gentleman expected. After a Glass or two a-piece, +his unknown Friend ask’d <i>Lostall</i> what Country-Man he was? To whom +the Soldier reply’d, That he was a <i>Zomerzetshire</i> Man, zure. +Did’st thou never hear then of one Sir <i>Henry Hardyman</i>? (the +Stranger ask’d.) Hier of’n! (cry’d t’other) yes, zure; chave a zeen ’en +often. Ah! Zure my Mother and I have had many a zwindging Pitcher of +good Drink, and many a good Piece of Meat at his House. Humh! (cry’d the +Gentleman) It seems your Mother and you knew him, then? Ay, zure, mainly +well; ich mean, by zight, mainly well, by zight. They had a great deal +of farther Discourse, which lasted near two Hours; in which Time the +Gentleman had the Opportunity to be fully assur’d, that this was +<i>Miles Hardyman</i>, for whom he took him at first. At that first +Conference, <i>Miles</i> told him his Name was honest <i>Tom +Lostall</i>; and that he had been a Souldier about five Years; having +first obtain’d the Dignity +<span class = "pagenum">496</span> +of a Serjeant, and afterward had the Honour to be a Trooper, which was +the greatest Post of Honour that he could boast of. At last, his new +Friend ask’d <i>Miles</i>, if he should see him there at Three in the +Afternoon the next Day? <i>Miles</i> return’d, That he should be at his +Post upon Duty then; and that without Leave from his Lieutenant, who +then would command the Guards at the <i>Tower</i>, he could not stir a +Foot with him. His Friend return’d, That he would endeavour to get Leave +for him for an Hour or two: After which they drank off their Wine; the +Gentleman pay’d the Reckoning, and gave <i>Miles</i> <a class = "comm" +name = "unhappy_commtag5" id = "unhappy_commtag5" href = +"#unhappy_comm5">a Broad piece</a> to drink more Wine ’till he came, if +he pleas’d, and then parted ’till the next Day. When his Friend was +gone, <i>Miles</i> had the Opportunity of reflecting on that Day’s +Adventure. He thought he had seen the Gentleman’s Face, and heard his +Voice, but where, and upon what Occasion, he could not imagine; but he +was in Hopes, that on a second Interview, he might recollect himself +where it was he had seen him. ’Twas exactly Three a-Clock the next +Afternoon, when his Friend came in his own Mourning-Coach, accompany’d +by another, who look’d like a Gentleman, though he wore no Sword. His +Friend was attended by two of his own Foot-men in black Liveries. +<i>Miles</i> was at his Post, when his Friend ask’d where the Officer of +the Guard was? The Soldier reply’d, That he was at the <i>Gun</i>. The +Gentleman went directly to the Lieutenant, and desir’d the Liberty of an +Hour or two for <i>Miles</i>, then <i>Tom Lostall</i>, to take a Glass +of Wine with him: The Lieutenant return’d, That he might keep him a Week +or two, if he pleas’d, and he would excuse him; for (added he) +there is not a more obedient nor better Soldier than <i>Tom</i> was in +the whole Regiment; and that he believ’d he was as brave as obedient. +The Gentleman reply’d, That he was very happy to hear so good a +Character of him; and having obtain’d Leave for his Friend, made his +Compliment, and return’d, to take <i>Miles</i> along with him: When he +came to the trusty +<span class = "pagenum">497</span> +Centinel, he commanded the Boot to be let down, and desir’d <i>Miles</i> +to come into the Coach, telling him, That the Officer had given him +Leave. Ah! Sir, (return’d <i>Miles</i>) altho’ he has, I cannot, +nor will quit my Post, ’till I am reliev’d by a Corporal; on which, +without any more Words, the Gentleman once more went to the Lieutenant, +and told him what the Soldier’s Answer was. The Officer smil’d, and +reply’d, That he had forgot to send a Corporal with him, e’er he was got +out o’ Sight, and begg’d the Gentleman’s Pardon that he had given him a +second Trouble. Then immediately calling for a Corporal, he dispatch’d +him with the Gentleman to relieve <i>Miles</i>, who then, with some +little Difficulty, was prevail’d on to step into the Coach, which +carry’d ’em into some Tavern or other in <i>Leadenhall-street</i>; +where, after a Bottle or two, his Friend told <i>Miles</i>, that the +Gentleman who came with him in the Coach, had some Business with him in +another Room. <i>Miles</i> was surpriz’d at that, and look’d earnestly +on his Friend’s Companion; and seeing he had no Sword, pull’d off his +own, and walk’d with him into the next Room; where he ask’d the +Stranger, What Business he had with him? To which the other reply’d, +That he must take Measure of him. How! (cry’d <i>Miles</i>) take Measure +of me? That need not be; for I can tell how tall I am. I am +(continu’d he) six Foot and two Inches high. I believe as much +(said t’other.) But, Sir, I am a Taylor, and must take Measure of +you to make a Suit of Cloaths or two for you; or half a Dozen, if you +please. Pray, good Mr. Taylor (said <i>Miles</i>) don’t mock me; for +tho’ cham a poor Fellow, yet cham no Vool zure. I don’t, indeed, +Sir, reply’d t’other. Why, who shall pay for ’em? Your Friend, the +Gentleman in the next Room: I’ll take his Word for a thousand Pounds, +and more; and he has already promis’d to be my Pay-Master for as many +Suits as you shall bespeak, and of what Price you please. Ah! mary, +(cry’d <i>Miles</i>) he is a Right Worshipful Gentleman; and ich caunt +but +<span class = "pagenum">498</span> +love ’n and thank ’n. The Taylor then took Measure of him, and they +return’d to the Gentleman; who, after a Bottle or two a-piece, ask’d +<i>Miles</i> when he should mount the Guard next? <i>Miles</i> told him +four Days thence, and he should be posted in the same Place, and that +his Captain would then command the Guard, who was a very noble Captain, +and a good Officer. His Friend, who then had no farther Business with +<i>Miles</i> at that Time, once more parted with him, ’till Three +a-Clock the next Saturday; when he return’d, and ask’d if the Captain +were at the <i>Gun</i>, or no? <i>Miles</i> assur’d him he was. His +Friend then went down directly to the Tavern, where he found the +Captain, the Lieutenant, and Ensign; upon his Address the Captain most +readily gave his Consent that <i>Miles</i> might stay with him a Month, +if he would; and added many Things in Praise of his trusty and dutiful +Soldier. The Gentleman then farther entreated, that he might have the +Liberty to give him and the other Officers a Supper that Night; and that +they would permit their poor Soldier, <i>Tom Lostall</i>, the Honour to +eat with ’em there. To the first, the Captain and the rest seem’d +something averse; but to the last they all readily agreed; and at length +the Gentleman’s Importunity prevail’d on ’em to accept his Kindness, he +urging that it was in Acknowledgment of all those Favours they had +plac’d on his Friend <i>Tom</i>. With his pleasing Success he came to +<i>Miles</i>, not forgetting then to take a Corporal with him. At this +second Invitation into the Coach, <i>Miles</i> did not use much +Ceremony, but stepp’d in, and would have sate over against the +Gentleman, by the Gentleman-Taylor; but his Friend oblig’d him to sit on +the same Seat with him. They came then again to their old Tavern in +<i>Leadenhall-street</i>, and were shew’d into a large Room; where they +had not been above six Minutes, e’er the Gentleman’s Servants, and +another, who belong’d to Monsieur Taylor, brought two or three large +Bags; out of one they took Shirts, half Shirts, Bands, and +<span class = "pagenum">499</span> +Stockings; out of another, a Mourning-Suit; out of a third, +a Mourning Cloak, Hat, and a large Hatband, with black Cloth-Shoes; +and one of the Gentleman’s Servants laid down a Mourning Sword and Belt +on the Table: <i>Miles</i> was amaz’d at the Sight of all these Things, +and kept his Eyes fix’d on ’em, ’till his Friend cry’d, Come, +<i>Tom</i>! Put on your Linnen first! Here! (continu’d he to his +Servant) Bid ’em light some Faggots here! For, tho’ ’tis Summer, the +Linnen may want Airing, and there may be some ugly cold Vapours about +the Room, which a good Fire will draw away. <i>Miles</i> was still in a +Maze! But the Fire being well kindled, the Gentleman himself took a +Shirt, and air’d it; commanding one of his Servants to help <i>Tom</i> +to undress. <i>Miles</i> was strangely out o’ Countenance at this, and +told his Friend, that he was of Age and Ability to pull off his own +Cloaths; that he never us’d to have any <i>Valets de Chambre</i>; +(as they call’d ’em) and for his Part, he was asham’d, and sorry +that so worshipful a Gentleman should take the Trouble to warm a Shirt +for him. Besides (added he) chave Heat enough (zure) to warm my +Shirt. In short, he put on his Shirt, half Shirt, his Cloaths and all +Appurtenances, as modishly as the best <i>Valet de Chambre</i> in +<i>Paris</i> could. When <i>Miles</i> was dress’d, his Friend told him, +That he believ’d he look’d then more like himself than ever he had done +since his Return to <i>England</i>. Ah! Noble Sir! said <i>Miles</i>. +<i>Vine Feathers make vine Birds.</i> But pray, Sir, Why must I wear +Mourning? Because there is a particular Friend of mine dead, for whose +Loss I can never sufficiently mourn my self; and therefore I desire that +all whom I love should mourn with me for him, return’d the Gentleman; +not but that there are three other Suits in Hand for you at this Time. +<i>Miles</i> began then to suspect something of his Father’s Death, +which had like to have made him betray his Grief at his Eyes; which his +Friend perceiving, took him by the Hand, and said, Here, my dear Friend! +To the Memory of my departed Friend! +<span class = "pagenum">500</span> +You are so very like what he was, considering your Difference in Years, +that I can’t choose but love you next to my Wife and my own Sister. Ah! +Sir! (said he, and lapping his Handkerchief to his Eyes) How can I +deserve this of you? I have told you (reply’d t’other.) +But—Come! Take your Glass, and about with it! He did so; and they +were indifferently pleasant, the Subject of Discourse being chang’d, +’till about a quarter after Five; when the Gentleman call’d to pay, and +took Coach with <i>Miles</i> only, for the <i>Gun-Tavern</i>; where he +order’d a very noble Supper to be got ready with all Expedition; mean +while they entertain’d one another, in a Room as distant from the +Officers as the House would permit: <i>Miles</i> relating to his new +Friend all his Misfortunes Abroad, but still disguising the true +Occasion of his leaving <i>England</i>. Something more than an Hour +after, one of the Drawers came to let ’em know, that Supper was just +going to be serv’d up. They went then directly to the Officers, whom +they found all together, with two or three Gentlemen more of their +Acquaintance: They all saluted the Gentleman who had invited ’em first, +and then complimented <i>Miles</i>, whom they mistook for another Friend +of the Gentleman’s that gave ’em the Invitation; not in the least +imagining that it was <i>Tom Lostall</i>. When they were all sat, the +Captain ask’d, Where is our trusty and well-beloved Friend Mr. <i>Thomas +Lostall</i>? Most honoured Captain! (reply’d <i>Miles</i>) I am here, +most humbly at your Honour’s Service, and all my other noble Officers. +Ha! <i>Tom</i>! (cry’d the Lieutenant) I thought indeed when thou +first cam’st in, that I should have seen that hardy Face of thine +before. Face, Hands, Body, and Heart and all, are at your, all your +Honours Service, as long as I live. We doubt it not, dear <i>Tom</i>! +(return’d his Officers, unanimously.) Come, noble Gentlemen! +(interrupted <i>Miles’s</i> Friend) Supper is here, let us fall to: +I doubt not that after Supper I shall surprise you farther. They +then fell to eating heartily; and after the Table was clear’d they drank +<span class = "pagenum">501</span> +merrily: At last, after the King’s, Queen’s, Duke’s, and all the Royal +Family’s, and the Officers Healths, his Friend begg’d that he might +begin a Health to <i>Tom Lostall</i>; which was carry’d about very +heartily; every one had a good Word for him, one commending his Bravery, +another, his ready Obedience; and a third, his Knowledge in material +Discipline, <i>&c.</i> ’till at length it grew late, their Stomachs +grew heavy, and their Heads light; when the Gentleman, <i>Miles’s</i> +Friend, calling for a Bill, he found it amounted to seven Pounds ten +Shillings, odd Pence, which he whisper’d <i>Tom Lostall</i> to pay; who +was in a Manner Thunder-struck at so strange a Sound; but, recollecting +himself, he return’d, That if his Friend pleas’d, he would leave his +Cloak, and any Thing else, ’till the House were farther satisfy’d: +T’other said, He was sure <i>Miles</i> had Money enough about him to +discharge two such Bills: To which <i>Miles</i> reply’d, That if he had +any Money about him, ’twas none of his own, and that ’twas certainly +conjur’d into his Pockets. No Matter how it came there (said t’other;) +but you have above twenty Pounds about you of your own Money: Pray feel. +<i>Miles</i> then felt, and pull’d out as much Silver as he could grasp, +and laid it down on the Table. Hang this white Pelf; (cry’d his Friend) +pay it in Gold, like your self, Come, apply your Hand to another Pocket: +He did so, and brought out as many Broad-Pieces as Hand could hold. Now +(continu’d his Friend) give the Waiter eight of ’em, and let him take +the Overplus for his Attendance. <i>Miles</i> readily obey’d, and they +were <i>Very Welcome, Gentlemen</i>.</p> + +<p>Now, honoured Captain, (said his Friend) and you, Gentlemen, his +other worthy Officers, be pleas’d to receive your Soldier, as Sir +<i>Miles Hardyman</i>, Bar., Son to the late Sir <i>Henry Hardyman</i> +of <i>Somersetshire</i>, my dear and honoured Brother-in-Law: Who is +certainly—the most unhappy Wretch crawling on Earth! (interrupted +<i>Miles</i>) O just Heaven! (persu’d he) How have I been rack’d in +my Soul +<span class = "pagenum">502</span> +ever since the Impious Vow I made, that I never would see my dearest +Father more! This is neither a Time nor Place to vent your Sorrows, my +dearest Brother! (said his Friend, tenderly embracing him.) I have +something now more material than your Expressions of Grief can be here, +since your honoured Father has been dead these five Years +almost:—Which is to let you know, that you are now Master of four +thousand Pounds a Year; and if you will forgive me two Years Revenue, +I will refund the rest, and put you into immediate and quiet +Possession; which I promise before all this worthy and honourable +Company. To which <i>Miles</i> return’d, That he did not deserve to +inherit one Foot of his Father’s Lands, tho’ they were entail’d on him, +since he had been so strangely undutiful; and that he rather thought his +Friend ought to enjoy it all in Right of his Sister, who never offended +his Father in the whole Course of her Life:—But, I beseech +you, Sir, (continu’d he to his Friend) how long is it since I have been +so happy in so good and generous a Brother-in-Law? Some Months before +Sir <i>Henry</i> our Father dy’d, who gave us his latest Blessing, +except that which his last Breath bequeath’d and sigh’d after you. +O undutiful and ungrateful Villain that I am, to so kind, and so +indulgent, and so merciful a Father: (cry’d <i>Miles</i>) But Heaven, +I fear, has farther Punishments in Store for so profligate a Wretch +and so disobedient a Son.—But your Name, Sir, if you please? +(persu’d he to his Brother) I am <i>Lewis Constance</i>, whom once +you unhappily mistook for your Rival. Unhappily, indeed: (return’d +<i>Miles</i>) I thought I had seen you before. Ay, Sir, (return’d +<i>Constance</i>) but you could never think to have seen me again, when +you wounded and left me for dead, within a Mile of my House. O! thou art +brave, (cry’d his Brother, embracing him affectionately) ’tis too much +Happiness, for such a Reprobate to find so true a Friend and so just a +Brother. This, this does in some Measure compensate +<span class = "pagenum">503</span> +for the Loss of so dear a Father.—Take, take all, my Brother! +(persu’d he, kissing <i>Lewis’s</i> Cheek) Take all thou hast receiv’d +of what is call’d mine, and share my whole Estate with me: But pardon +me, I beseech you my most honour’d Officers, and all you Gentlemen +here present, (continu’d he to the whole Company, who sate silent and +gazing at one another, on the Occasion of so unusual an Adventure) +pardon the Effects of Grief and Joy in a distracted Creature! O, Sir +<i>Miles</i>, (cry’d his Captain) we grieve for your Misfortune, and +rejoice at your Happiness in so noble a Friend and so just a Brother. +<i>Miles</i> then went on, and gave the Company a full but short Account +of the Occasion of all his Troubles, and of all his Accidents he met +with both Abroad and at Home, to the first Day that <i>Constance</i> saw +him digging in the <i>Tower</i>-Ditch. About one that Morning, which +preceded that Afternoon (persu’d he) whereon I saw my dear Brother +here, then a Stranger to me, I dream’d I saw my Father at a +Distance, and heard him calling to me to quit my honourable Employment +in his Majesty’s Service: This (my Thought) he repeated seven or +nine Times, I know not which; but I was so disturb’d at it, that I +began to wake, and with my Eyes but half open was preparing to rise; +when I fancy’d I felt a cold Hand take me by the Hand, and force me on +my hard Bolster again, with these Words, take thy Rest, <i>Miles</i>! +This I confess did somewhat surprize me; but I concluded, ’twas the +Effect of my Melancholy, which, indeed, has held me ever since I last +left <i>England</i>: I therefore resolutely started up, and jump’d out +of Bed, designing to leave you, and sit up with my Fellow-Soldiers on +the Guard; but just then I heard the Watchman cry, <i>Past one a Clock +and a Star-light Morning</i>; when, considering that I was to be at Work +in the Ditch by four a Clock, I went to Bed again, and slumber’d, +doz’d, and dream’d, ’til Four; ever when I turn’d me, still hearing, as +I foolishly imagin’d, +<span class = "pagenum">504</span> +my Father crying to me, <i>Miles</i>! Sleep, my <i>Miles</i>! Go not to +that nasty Place, nor do such servile Offices! tho’ thou dost, I’ll have +thee out this Day, nay, I will pull thee out: And then I foolishly +imagin’d, that the same cold Hand pull’d me out of the Ditch; and being +in less than a Minute’s Time perfectly awake, I found my self on my +Feet in the Middle of the Room; I soon put on my Cloaths then, and +went to my Labour. Were you thus disturb’d when you were Abroad? (the +Captain ask’d) O worse, Sir, (answer’d <i>Miles</i>) especially on +a Tuesday Night, a little after One, being the Twelth of +<i>November</i>, New Style, I was wak’d by a Voice, which +(methought) cry’d, <i>Miles</i>, <i>Miles</i>, <i>Miles!</i> Get hence, +go Home, go to <i>England</i>! I was startled at it, but regarded it +only as proceeding from my going to Sleep with a full Stomach, and so +endeavour’d to sleep again, which I did, till a second Time it rouz’d +me, with <i>Miles</i> twice repeated,—hazard not thy Life here in +a foreign Service! Home! to <i>England</i>! to <i>England</i>! to +<i>England</i>! This disturb’d me much more than at first; but, after I +had lay’n awake near half an Hour, and heard nothing of it all that +Time, I assur’d my self ’twas nothing but a Dream, and so once more +address’d my self to Sleep, which I enjoy’d without Interruption for +above two Hours; when I was the third Time alarm’d, and that with a +louder Voice, which cry’d, as twice before, <i>Miles! Miles! Miles! +Miles!</i> Go Home! Go to <i>England</i>! Hazard not +thy Soul here! At which I started up, and with a faultering Speech, and +Eyes half sear’d together, I cry’d, In the Name of Heaven, who +calls? Thy Father, <i>Miles</i>: Go Home! Go Home! Go Home! +(it said.) O then I knew, I mean, I thought I knew +it was my Father’s Voice; and turning to the Bed-Side, from whence the +Sound proceeded, I saw, these Eyes then open, these very Eyes, at +least, my Soul saw my Father, my own dear Father, lifting up his joined +Hands, as if he begg’d me to return to <i>England</i>. I saw +<span class = "pagenum">505</span> +him beg it of me.—O Heaven! The Father begs it of the Son! +O obstinate, rebellious, cruel, unnatural, barbarous, inhuman Son! +Why did not I go Home then! Why did I not from that Moment begin my +Journey to <i>England</i>? But I hope, e’er long, I shall begin a +better. Here his o’ercharg’d Heart found some little Relief at his Eyes, +and they confess’d his Mother: But he soon resum’d the Man, and then +<i>Constance</i> said, Did you ne’er dream of your Sister, Sir? Yes, +often, Brother, (return’d <i>Miles</i>) but then most particularly, +before e’er I heard the first Call of the Voice; when (my Thought) +I saw her in Tears by my Bed Side, kneeling with a Gentleman, whom +I thought I had once seen; but knew him not then, tho’, now I recal my +Dream, the Face was exactly yours. ’Twas I, indeed, Sir, (return’d +<i>Lewis</i>) who bore her Company, with Tears, at your Father’s +Bed-Side; and at twelve a Clock at Night your Father dy’d. But come, +Sir, (persu’d he) ’tis now near twelve a Clock, and there is +Company waits for you at Home, at my House here in Town; I humbly +beg the Captain’s Leave, that I may rob ’em of so dutiful a Soldier for +a Week or two. Sir, (return’d the Captain) Sir <i>Miles</i> knows how to +command himself, and may command us when he pleases. Captain, +Lieutenant, and Ensign, (reply’d Sir <i>Miles</i>) I am, and ever will +continue, during Life, your most dutiful Soldier, and your most obedient +and humble Servant. Thus they parted.</p> + +<p>As soon as <i>Constance</i> was got within Doors, his Lady and Sir +<i>Miles’s</i> Sister, who both did expect him that Night, came running +into the Hall to welcome <ins class = "correction" title = +"? in original">him?</ins> his Sister embrac’d and kiss’d him twenty and +twenty Times again, dropping Tears of Joy and Grief, whilst his Mistress +stood a little Distance, weeping sincerely for Joy to see her Love +return’d: But long he did not suffer her in that Posture; for, breaking +from his Sister’s tender Embraces, with a seasonable Compliment he ran +to his Mistress, and kneeling, kiss’d her Hand, when she was going to +kneel +<span class = "pagenum">506</span> +to him; which he perceiving, started up and took her in his Arms, and +there, it may be presum’d, they kiss’d and talk’d prettily; ’till her +Brother perswaded ’em to retire into the Parlour, where he propos’d to +’em that they should marry on the very next morning; and accordingly +they were, after <i>Lewis</i> had deliver’d all Sir <i>Henry’s</i> +Estate to Sir <i>Miles</i>, and given him Bills on his Banker for the +Payment of ten thousand Pounds, being the Moiety of Sir <i>Miles’s</i> +Revenue for five Years. Before they went to Church, Sir <i>Miles</i>, +who then had on a rich bridal Suit, borrow’d his Brother’s best Coach, +and both he and <i>Lewis</i> went and fetch’d the Captain, Lieutenant, +and Ensign, to be Witnesses of their Marriage. The Captain gave the +Bride, and afterwards they feasted and laugh’d heartily, ’till Twelve at +Night, when the Bride was put to Bed; and there was not a Officer of ’em +all, who would not have been glad to have gone to Bed to her; but Sir +<i>Miles</i> better supply’d their Places.</p> + + +<div class = "textnote"> + +<h5><a name = "unhappy_notes" id = "unhappy_notes"> +Notes: Critical and Explanatory:</a><br> +The Unhappy Mistake.</h5> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "unhappy_comm1" id = "unhappy_comm1" href = +"#unhappy_commtag1">p. 477</a> +<i>the Jack</i>. The small bowl placed as a mark for the players to aim +at. cf. <i>Cymbeline</i> ii, <span class = "smallroman">I</span>: +‘Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack upon an +up-cast to be hit away!’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "unhappy_comm2" id = "unhappy_comm2" href = +"#unhappy_commtag2">p. 477</a> +<i>the Block</i>. cf. Florio (1598). ‘<i>Buttino</i>, a maister or +mistres of boules or coites whereat the plaiers cast or playe; some call +it the blocke.’</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "unhappy_comm3" id = "unhappy_comm3" href = +"#unhappy_commtag3">p. 495</a> +<i>vor Mainly be our Country Word, zure</i>. Wright, <i>English Dialect +Dictionary</i>, gives apposite quotations for ‘mainly’ from Gloucester, +<span class = "pagenum">524</span> +Wilts and Devon. He also has two quotations, Somerset and West Somerset +for ‘main’ used adverbially. But ‘mainly’ is also quite common in that +county.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "unhappy_comm4" id = "unhappy_comm4" href = +"#unhappy_commtag4">p. 495</a> +<i>the Gun</i>. A well-known house of call. 2 June, 1668, Pepys ‘stopped +and drank at the Gun’.</p> + +<p class = "first"> +<a name = "unhappy_comm5" id = "unhappy_comm5" href = +"#unhappy_commtag5">p. 496</a> +<i>a Broad piece</i>. This very common name was ‘applied after the +introduction of the guinea in 1663 to the “Unite” or 20 shilling pieces +(Jacobus and Carolus) of the preceeding reigns, which were much broader +and thinner than the new milled coinage.’</p> + +</div> + +<span class = "pagenum">507</span> +<a name = "appendix" id = "appendix"> </a> + +<h3>APPENDIX.</h3> + +<p class = "mynote"> +The <i>Epistle Dedicatory</i> to <i>Oroonoko</i> was printed as an +Appendix. In keeping with the editor’s intention (see second paragraph +of <a href = "#app_comm1">Note</a>), it has been placed immediately +before the novel.</p> + + +<span class = "pagenum">513</span> +<a name = "notes" id = "notes"> </a> + +<h3>NOTES.</h3> + +<p class = "mynote"> +The <i>Notes</i> come immediately after their respective stories; +see detailed Table of Contents, below. The heading has been retained for +completeness.</p> + +</div> +<!-- end div maintext --> + + +<hr class = "mid"> + +<span class = "pagenum">525</span> +<p class = "center"> +<i>Printed by <span class = "smallcaps">A. H. Bullen</span>, at the +Shakespeare Head Press, Stratford-upon-Avon.</i></p> + + +<div class = "endnote"> + +<h4><a name = "endnotes" id = "endnotes"> +Transcriber’s Notes</a></h4> + +<h5>Errors</h5> + +<p>Typographical errors were corrected only when unambiguous (“Symrna”), +or when the expected spelling occurs many times in the book. A few +variable forms such as “handsom : handsome” are unchanged. In the Notes, +the abbreviation “cf.” is always lower-case.</p> + +<p>Unless otherwise noted, quotation marks are as printed.</p> + +<h5>Arrangement of Editor’s Notes</h5> + +<p>In the printed book, all notes were grouped at the end of the volume. +For this e-text, they have been placed after their respective +stories.</p> + +<p>The Notes as printed give only page numbers. Links leading directly +to the cited text were added by the transcriber. Annotated passages are +identified in the body text with <a class = "comm" href = "#notes">grey +underlining</a>.</p> + +<p>Where appropriate, cross-references from other volumes of the +Complete Works are quoted after the Notes. The “N.E.D.” (New English +Dictionary) is now known as the OED.</p> + +<div class = "contents"> + +<h4><a name = "detail" id = "detail">Full Contents</a></h4> + +<p><a href = "#black_lady"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Adventure of the Black Lady</span></a><br> +<a href = "#black_lady_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#black_lady_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#king_bantam"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Court of the King Of Bantam</span></a><br> +<a href = "#bantam_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#bantam_notes">Notes</a><br> +<a href = "#bantam_crossref">Cross-References</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#happy_lady"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Unfortunate Happy Lady</span>: A True History</a><br> +<a href = "#happy_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#happy_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#fair_jilt"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Fair Jilt</span></a><br> +<a href = "#jilt_intro">Introduction</a><br> +<a href = "#jilt_dedic">Dedication</a><br> +<a href = "#jilt_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#jilt_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#oroonoko"><span class = "smallcaps"> +Oroonoko</span>; or, The Royal Slave</a><br> +<a href = "#oroonoko_intro">Introduction</a><br> +<a href = "#oroonoko_dedic">Dedication</a> (printed as Appendix)<br> +<a href = "#oroonoko_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#oroonoko_notes">Notes</a><br> +<a href = "#oroonoko_crossref5">Cross-Reference</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#agnes_castro"><span class = "smallcaps"> +Agnes De Castro</span></a><br> +<a href = "#agnes_intro">Introduction</a><br> +<a href = "#agnes_main"><i>Main Text</i></a></p> + +<p><a href = "#history_nun"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The History of the Nun</span>; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker</a><br> +<a href = "#history_intro">Introduction</a><br> +<a href = "#history_dedic">Dedication</a><br> +<a href = "#history_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#history_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#nun_perjurd"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Nun</span>; or, The Perjur’d Beauty</a><br> +<a href = "#perjurd_main"><i>Main Text</i></a></p> + +<p><a href = "#lucky"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Lucky Mistake</span></a><br> +<a href = "#lucky_dedic">Dedication</a><br> +<a href = "#lucky_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#lucky_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#unfortunate"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Unfortunate Bride</span>; or, The Blind Lady a Beauty</a><br> +<a href = "#unfortunate_dedic">Dedication</a><br> +<a href = "#unfortunate_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#unfortunate_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#dumb_virgin"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Dumb Virgin</span>; or, The Force of Imagination</a><br> +<a href = "#dumb_intro">Introduction</a><br> +<a href = "#dumb_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#dumb_notes">Notes</a><br> +<a href = "#dumb_crossref">Cross-Reference</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#wandering"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Wandering Beauty</span></a><br> +<a href = "#wandering_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#wandering_notes">Notes</a></p> + +<p><a href = "#unhappy"><span class = "smallcaps"> +The Unhappy Mistake</span>; or, The Impious Vow Punish’d</a><br> +<a href = "#unhappy_main"><i>Main Text</i></a><br> +<a href = "#unhappy_notes">Notes</a></p> + +</div> + +</div> +<!-- end div endnote --> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Aphra Behn, by Aphra Behn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF APHRA BEHN *** + +***** This file should be named 29854-h.htm or 29854-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/5/29854/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, Wendy Bertsch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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