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diff --git a/29854-0.txt b/29854-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..935b3ca --- /dev/null +++ b/29854-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16132 @@ +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 + + + + + + + +[This e-text comes in three forms: Unicode (UTF-8), Latin-1 and ASCII-7. +Use the one that works best on your text reader. + + --If “œ” displays as a single character, and apostrophes and + quotation marks are “curly” or angled, you have the UTF-8 version + (best). If any part of this paragraph displays as garbage, try + changing your text reader’s “character set” or “file encoding”. + If that doesn’t work, proceed to: + --In the Latin-1 version, “œ” is two letters, but French words like + “rôle” and “mêre” have accents and “æ” is a single letter. Apostrophes + and quotation marks will be straight (“typewriter” form). Again, if + you see any garbage in this paragraph and can’t get it to display + properly, use: + --The ASCII-7 or rock-bottom version. All necessary text will still be + there; it just won’t be as pretty. Note that in the Introduction to + “Agnes de Castro”, the name “Constança” has a cedilla and “Peñafiel” + has a tilde. + +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. +The _Epistle Dedicatory_ to _Oroonoko_ was printed as an Appendix. In +keeping with the editor’s intention (see second paragraph of Note), +it has been placed immediately before the novel. + +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. + +Typographic note: In the printed book, all references to plays give the +Act in lower-case Roman numerals and the Scene in small capital Roman +numerals; the two look identical except for the dots over the i’s. For +this plain-text version, the conventional “IV, iv” sequence was used +instead. Italic passages used Roman type for emphasis; this is shown +as +Name+.] + + + + + THE WORKS + + of + + APHRA BEHN + + + Edited by + MONTAGUE SUMMERS + + VOL. V + + The Black Lady -- The King of Bantam + The Unfortunate Happy Lady -- The Fair Jilt + Oroonoko -- Agnes de Castro + The History of the Nun -- The Nun + The Lucky Mistake -- The Unfortunate Bride + The Dumb Virgin -- The Wandering Beauty + The Unhappy Mistake + + + [Illustration: (Publisher’s Device)] + + LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN + STRATFORD-ON-AVON: A. H. BULLEN + MCMXV + + + + +CONTENTS. + +[See Transcriber’s Note at beginning of text for handling of Notes +and Appendix.] + + Page + + The Adventure of the Black Lady 1 + The Court of the King of Bantam 11 + The Unfortunate Happy Lady: A True History 35 + The Fair Jilt 67 + Oroonoko; or, The Royal Slave 125 + Agnes De Castro 209 + The History of the Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker 257 + The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty 325 + The Lucky Mistake 349 + The Unfortunate Bride; or, The Blind Lady a Beauty 399 + The Dumb Virgin; or, The Force of Imagination 415 + The Wandering Beauty 445 + The Unhappy Mistake; or, The Impious Vow Punish’d 469 + Appendix 507 + Notes 513 + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE ADVENTURE OF THE _BLACK LADY_. + + +About the Beginning of last _June_ (as near as I can remember) +_Bellamora_ came to Town from _Hampshire_, 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 _Covent-Garden_, where she thought to find Madam +_Brightly_, 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 _Brightly’s_ 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 _Bridges-Street_, 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 _Brightly_ 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 _Soho_. In this Perplexity she quite forgot her Trunk +and Money, _&c_, and wander’d in her Hackney-Coach all over St. _Anne’s_ +Parish; inquiring for Madam _Brightly_, 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, 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 _Bellamora’s_ 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. + +When they were alone, _Bellamora_ 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 _Bellamora_ 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 _London_, 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 expect from her, during _Bellamora’s_ +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 _Brightly_. The Gentleman, +her Husband just saw her within Doors, and order’d 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 _Bellamora_ 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 +_Bellamora_? (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, +_Bellamora_ 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 other Lady, who desir’d her to search into +the Cause of _Bellamora’s_ Retreat to Town. + +The next Morning the good Gentlewoman of the House coming up to her, +found _Bellamora_ 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. + +I was courted (said she) above three Years ago, when my Mother was yet +living, by one Mr. _Fondlove_, 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. _Fondlove_; but one +whose Person and Humour did by no means hit with my Inclinations: And +this gave _Fondlove_ 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 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 _Bellamora_) 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 _Bellamora_) ’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 _Bellamora_) 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 _Bellamora’s_ mournful Confession; at which the Lady appear’d +mightily concern’d: and at last she told her Landlady, that she would +take Care that _Bellamora_ should lie in according to her Quality: For, +added she, the Child, it seems, is my own Brother’s. + +As soon as she had din’d, she went to the _Exchange_, and bought +Child-bed Linen; but desired that _Bellamora_ might not have the least +Notice of it: And at her return dispatch’d a Letter to her Brother +_Fondlove_ in _Hampshire_, 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 _Star Inn_ on +_Fish-street-Hill_, 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 _Bellamora’s_ Lodgings that very +Night, but unknown to her. _Fondlove_ no sooner got to _London_, but he +posts to his Sister’s Lodgings, where he was advis’d not to be seen of +_Bellamora_ 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 +_Bellamora_ 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 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 _Holland_, 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 +_Fondlove’s_ 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 _Fondlove_, by good +Providence, prevented it; who, the Night before, was usher’d into +_Bellamora’s_ 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 _Exchange_, 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 ’em) to search for a young Blackhair’d Lady (for so was +_Bellamora_) 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. + + _FINIS._ + + + + +NOTES: The Black Lady. + + +p. 3 _Bridges-Street._ 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 _Sir +Courtly Nice_ (1685) we have: ‘Our Bridges Street is grown a strumpet +fair’; and Dryden, in the Epilogue to _King Arthur_ (1691), gave Mrs. +Bracegirdle, who entered, her hands full of billets-doux, the following +lines to speak:-- + + Here one desires my ladyship to meet [_Pulls out one._ + At the kind couch above in Bridges-Street. + Oh sharping knave! that would have--you know what, + For a poor sneaking treat of chocolate. + +p. 8 _Star-Inn on Fish-street-Hill._ 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 _Henry VI_, IV, viii: ‘_Cade._ +Up Fish Street! down St. Magnus’ corner! kill and knock down! throw them +into the Thames.’ + +p. 9 _the Exchange._ 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. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE COURT OF THE KING OF _BANTAM_. + + +This Money certainly is a most devilish Thing! I’m sure the Want of it +had like to have ruin’d my dear _Philibella_, in her Love to _Valentine +Goodland_; 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 _George Goodland_ knew of his Son’s Passion for _Philibella_; 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 _Philip +Friendly_: tho’ her Virtue and Beauty might have deserv’d, and have +adorn’d the Throne of an _Alexander_ or a _Cæsar_. + +Sir _Philip_ 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 _Philadelphia_, Widow of Sir +_Bartholomew Banquier_, who left her possess’d of two thousand Pounds +_per Annum_, 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 +_Strand_; or, as near as I can remember, somewhere about +_Charing-Cross_; where first of all Mr. _Would-be King_, a Gentleman of +a large 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 _Philibella_, who then liv’d with her Uncle. + +This Mr. _Would-be_ 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 +_Indies_; to see a Present made to-day of a Diamond Ring, worth two or +three hundred Pounds, to Madam _Flippant_; to-morrow, a large Chest of +the finest _China_ to my Lady _Fleecewell_; and next Day, perhaps, +a rich Necklace of large Oriental Pearl, with a Locket to it of +Saphires, Emeralds, Rubies, &c., to pretty Miss _Ogle-me_, 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 _Philip’s_ +Niece. But the brave and haughty Mr. _Would-be_ was not to be baulk’d by +Appearances of Virtue, which he 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. + +With _Philibella_ he found another pretty young Creature, very like her, +who had been a _quondam_ Mistress to Sir _Philip_: He, with young +_Goodland_, was then diverting his Mistress and Niece at a Game at +Cards, when _Would-be_ 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 _Christmas-time_. The Lady _Friendly_ understanding +that this extraordinary Man was with Sir _Philip_ 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; _Philibella_ ten; and _Lucy_, Sir _Philip’s_ quondam, +five: Not but that _Would-be_ intended better Fortune to the young ones, +than he did to Sir _Philip’s_ 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 _Would-be_ had said as many +obliging things as his present Genius would give him leave, to +_Philibella_ and _Lucy_, especially to the first, not forgetting his +Baisemains to the Lady _Friendly_, he bid the Knight and _Goodland_ +adieu; but with a Promise of repeating his Visit at six a-clock in the +Evening on _Twelfth-Day_, to renew the famous and antient Solemnity of +chusing King and Queen; to which Sir _Philip_ before invited him, with a +Design yet unknown to you, I hope. + +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. _Would-be King_. They laugh’d and talk’d about an Hour +longer, and then young _Goodland_ was oblig’d to see _Lucy_ home in his +Coach; tho’ he had rather have sat up all Night in the same House with +_Philibella_, 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. + +About twelve a-clock on the Day prefix’d, young _Goodland_ came to dine +with Sir _Philip_, whom he found just return’d from Court, in a very +good Humour. On the Sight of _Valentine_, 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 +_Philip_) 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 _Valentine_) 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 _Philip_) 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 _George_ 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, _Val_, not otherwise; for I will not labour so for any +other Man. What inviolable Obligations you put upon me! (cry’d +_Goodland_.) No Return, by way of Compliments, good _Val_, (said the +Knight:) Had I not engag’d to my Wife, before Marriage, that I would not +dispose of any part of what she brought me, without her Consent, I would +certainly make _Philibella’s_ 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;--_King_ +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 _Lucy_ 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 +_Valentine_.) I had forgot to tell you (said _Friendly_) that I have so +order’d matters, that he must be King to-night, and _Lucy_ Queen, by the +Lots in the Cake. By all means (return’d _Goodland_;) it must be +Majesty. + +Exactly at six a’clock came _Wou’d-be_ in his Coach and six, and found +Sir _Philip_, and his Lady, _Goodland_, _Philibella_, and _Lucy_ ready +to receive him; _Lucy_ 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 _Would-be_, with a Flourish of Violins, and other Instruments, +which proceeded to entertain ’em with the best and newest Airs in the +last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683. The Ladies were curious to +know to whom they ow’d the chearful part of their Entertainment: On +which he call’d out, Hey! _Tom Farmer! Ale-worth! Eccles! Hall!_ 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, _Farmer_, (said he then) this for you and your Friends. +We humbly thank the honourable Mr. _Would-be King_. They all return’d, +and struck up with more Spriteliness than before. For Gold and Wine, +doubtless, are the best Rosin for Musicians. + +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 _Alimental Oracle_; which was then cut +and consulted, and the royal Bean and Pea fell to those to whom Sir +_Philip_ had design’d ’em. ’Twas then the Knight began a merry Bumper, +with three Huzza’s, and, _Long live King +Would-be!+_ to _Goodland_, who +echo’d and pledg’d him, putting the Glass about to the harmonious +Attendants; while the Ladies drank their own Quantities among +themselves, _To his aforesaid Majesty_. Then of course you may believe +Queen _Lucy’s_ 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. + +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 _Philibella_ and _Lucy_, who +(believe me) that Night might well enough have passed for a Queen. + +They fell then to Questions and Commands; to cross Purposes: _I think a +Thought, what is it like?_ &c. In all which, his _Would-be_ Majesty took +the Opportunity of shewing the Excellency of his Parts, as, How fit he +was 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 +_Philibella_: 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 _Philip_) who in my Opinion, +has greater Charms, and more than both of them together. You ought to +think so, Sir _Philip_ (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 +_Goodland_.) With all Respect due to your sacred Title, (return’d +_Valentene_, rising and bowing) Sir _Philip_ 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 _King_, no longer _Would-be_.) +How! may it please your Majesty (cry’d _Friendly_) 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 she has (reply’d the titular Monarch): My Lot +is fair (pursu’d he) tho’ I can be bless’d but with one. + + _Let Majesty with Majesty be join’d, + To get and leave a Race of Kings behind._ + +Come, Madam (continued he, kissing _Lucy_,) this, as an Earnest of our +future Endeavours. I fear (return’d the pretty Queen) your Majesty will +forget the unhappy _Statira_, when you return to the Embraces of your +dear and beautiful _Roxana_. 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 +_Philibella_;) 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 _Lucy_) may please to wear this +Necklace, with this Locket of Emeralds. Your Majesty is bounteous as a +God! (said _Valentine_.) Art thou in Want, young Spark? (ask’d the King +of _Bantam_) 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 +_Friendly_.) How! how! presumptious Youth! How are thy Eyes and Thoughts +exalted? ha! To Bliss your Majesty must never hope for, (reply’d +_Goodland_.) How now! thou Creature of the basest Mold! Not hope for +what thou dost aspire to! _Mock-King_; thou canst not, dar’st not, shalt +not hope it: (return’d _Valentine_ in a heat.) Hold, _Val_, (cry’d Sir +_Philip_) you grow warm, forget your Duty to their Majesties, and abuse +your Friends, by making us suspected. Good-night, dear _Philibella_, and +my Queen! Madam, I am your Ladyship’s Servant (said _Goodland_:) +Farewel, Sir _Philip_: Adieu, thou Pageant! thou Property-King! I shall +see thy Brother on the Stage ere long; but 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, _King of +Bantam+_--So, _Hail, King that Would-be! Hail +thou King of +Christmas+! All-hail, Wou’d-be King of +Bantam+_--and so +he left ’em.--They all seem’d amazed, and gaz’d on one another, without +speaking a Syllable; ’till Sir _Philip_ 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 _Bantam_.) 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, +_Friendly_, 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, _Lucy_ I. smiling.) ‘Gad take me (cry’d King _Wou’d-be_) thou +dear Partner of my Greatness, and shalt be, of all my Pleasures! thy +pretty satirical Observation has oblig’d me beyond Imitation.’ I think +your Majesty is got into a Vein of Rhiming to-night, (said +_Philadelphia_.) Ay! Pox of that young insipid Fop, we could else have +been as great as an Emperor of _China_, and as witty as _Horace_ 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 _Philibella_) 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: 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 _King and no King_) married to my Queen! +I must not, cannot suffer it! Pray restrain your self a little, Sir +(said Sir _Philip_) and when once these Ladies have left us, I will +discourse your Majesty further about this Business. Well, pray, Sir +_Philip_, (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 _Friendly_.) You’re merry, my Love, +you’re merry, (cry’d _Philadelphia_:) 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. + +Now we’re alone (said Sir _Philip_) let me assure you, Sir, I resent +this Affront done to you by Mr. _Goodland_, 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 _Friendly_) 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 +proceeded:)--As I hinted to you before, he is in love with my youngest +Niece, _Philibella_; 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 _Lucy_ +three thousand Pounds, being as much as he thought convenient to match +her handsomly; and accordingly the Nuptials of young _Goodland_ and +_Lucy_ are to be celebrated next _Easter_. 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 +_Spain_, 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 _Frederick Flygold_, 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 _Conundrum_.) 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 _Friendly_, 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 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, _My Duty to +your Majesty; To our good Success in this Affair_. While he drank, +t’other return’d, _With all my Heart_; and pledg’d him. Then _Friendly_ +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 _Bantam_;) I had so design’d before. Well, Sir (said Sir +_Philip_) what think you of a set Party or two at _Piquet_, 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 +forty the Lurch. Agreed (said _Friendly_;) 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 _Philip_; for which Majesty +was pleas’d to give him Bond, whether _Friendly_ would or no, + + _Seal’d and deliver’d in the Presence of_, + + The Mark of (_W._) _Will. Watchful_. + And, (_S_) _Sim. Slyboots_. + + A couple of delicate Beagles, their mighty Attendants. + +It was then about the Hour that Sir _Philip’s_ (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, +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 _Goodland_, who came +according to his Word, with the first Opportunity. Sir _Philip_ 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 _Valentine_, who began then to have some Assurance of his +Happiness with _Philibella_. His Friend told him, that he must now be +reconcil’d to his _Mock-Majesty_, tho’ with some Difficulty; and so +taking one hearty Glass a-piece, he left _Valentine_ in the Parlour to +carry the ungrateful News of his Visit to him that Morning. King ---- +was in an odd sort of taking, when he heard that _Valentine_ was below; +and had been, as Sir _Philip_ inform’d _Majesty_, at _Majesty’s_ 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 _Friendly_ +shewing him his Bond for the Money he won of him at play, let him know, +that if he paid three thousand Guineas to _Philibella_, he would +immediately deliver him up his Bond, and not expect the two hundred +Guineas overplus. His Majesty of _Bantam_ was then in so good a Humour, +that he could have made Love to Sir _Philip_; nay, I believe he could +have kiss’d _Valentine_, instead of seeming angry. Down they came, and +saluted like Gentlemen: But after the Greeting was over, _Goodland_ +began to talk something of Affront, Satisfaction, Honour, _&c._ when +immediately _Friendly_ interpos’d, and after a little seeming Uneasiness +and Reluctancy, reconcil’d the hot and cholerick Youth to the cold +phlegmatick King. + +Peace was no sooner proclaim’d, than the King of _Bantam_ took his Rival +and late Antagonist with him in his own Coach, not excluding Sir +_Philip_ by any means, to _Locket’s_, where they din’d: Thence he would +have ’em to Court with him, where he met the Lady _Flippant_, the Lady +_Harpy_, the Lady _Crocodile_, Madam _Tattlemore_, Miss _Medler_, Mrs. +_Gingerly_, 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 _Tattlemore_, 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 _Bantam_. 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 _Presence-Chamber_, where she only +whisper’d it; but her Whispers made above half the honourable Company +quit the Presence of the King of _Great-Britain_, to go make their Court +to his Majesty of _Bantam_: some cry’d, _God bless your Majesty!_ Some +_Long live the King of +Bantam+!_ Others, _All Hail to your Sacred +Majesty_; In short, he was congratulated on all Sides. Indeed I don’t +hear that his Majesty King _Charles_ 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. + +After he thought the Court of _England_ was universally acquainted with +his mighty Honour, he was pleas’d to think fit to retire to his own more +private Palace, with Sir _Philip_ and _Goodland_, 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 King and no King_. 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 _Pythagoras’s_ Saying _Abstineto a Fabis_, That is, (added he, by +way of Construction) _Abstain from Beans_: 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 _Philip_ spread the News of his +Friend’s Accession to the Title, tho’ not yet to the Throne of _Bantam_; +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. + +The Play done, they took each of them a Bottle at the _Rose_, 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 _Philip_, his Lady, _Goodland_, _Philibella_, and _Lucy_ came. +Sir _Philip_ return’d him _Rabelais_, 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 +_Bantam_, who vow’d he had never taken Notice of it before; but he said, +he perceiv’d it had been long written by the Character; and here it +follows, as near as I can remember: + + _When +M. D. C.+ come +L.+ before, + Three +XXX+’s, two II’s and one I. more; + Then +KING+, tho’ now but Name to thee, + Shall both thy Name and Title be._ + +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. _Lucy_ was there attended as his Queen; +and _Philibella_, 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 _Bantam_, and his Royal Consort, with the Princess +_Philibella’s_ who sat together under a Royal Canopy of State, his +Majesty between the two beautiful Sisters: only _Friendly_ and +_Goodland_ wisely manag’d that part of the Engagement where they were +concern’d, and preserv’d themselves from the Heat of the Debauch. + +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 _Bantam_. Before Five they were +left to themselves; when the Lady _Friendly_ was discompos’d, for want +of Sleep, and her usual Cordial, which obliged Sir _Philip_ to wait on +her Home, with his two Nieces: But his Majesty would by no means part +with _Goodland_; 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 _Alexander_, and +young _Valentine_ his _Hephestion_; and did so be-buss him, that the +young Gentleman fear’d he was fallen into the Hands of an _Italian_. +However, by the kind Persuasions of his condescending and dissembling +Majesty, he ventur’d to go into Bed with him; where King _Would-be_ fell +asleep, hand-over-head: and not long after, _Goodland_, his new-made +Peer, follow’d him to the cool Retreats of _Morpheus_. + +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 _Old-Hock_, 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 _Philip’s_, whom they found just risen from Dinner, +with _Philadelphia_ and his two Nieces. They sat down, and ask’d for +something to relish a Glass of Wine, and Sir _Philip_ 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. + +After their little Repast, _Friendly_ call’d the _Would-be-Monarch_ +aside, and told him, that he would have him go to the Play that Night, +which was _The London-Cuckolds_; 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. +_Majesty_ 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. + +When he was gone, Sir _Philip_ thus bespoke his pretended Niece: Madam, +I hope your Majesty will not 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. _Val_, (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 +_Lucy_.) 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 _Friendly_ to _Val._--Your Honour, noble Peer, must be set +down at _Long’s_; for only _Lucy_ and I must be seen to his Majesty of +_Bantam_: 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 _Lucy_) you don’t mean, +I hope, to leave me with his Majesty of _Bantam_? ’Tis for thy Good, +Child! ’Tis for thy Good (return’d _Friendly_.) To the _Rose_ they got +then; where _Goodland_ alighted, and expected Sir _Philip_; who led +_Lucy_ into the King’s Box, 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 _Friendly’s_ Haste prevented ’em, who went directly to +_Valentine_, 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. + +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 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 _Philip’s_ 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 _Jermain-Street_; +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 _C----d_ the Goldsmith with +_Temple-Bar_, for five hundred guineas; which _Watchful_ brought him, in +less than an Hour’s time, when they were just in the Height of Supper; +_Lucy_ having invited her Landlady, for the better Colour of the Matter. +His _Bantamite_ Majesty took the Gold from his Slave, and threw it by +him in the Window, that _Lucy_ 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 _Philip_, or +Order, and received his own Bond, made for what he had lost at Play, +from _Friendly_, she made no great Difficulty to admit his Majesty to +her Bed. Where I think fit to leave ’em for the present; for (perhaps) +they had some private Business. + +The next Morning before the Titular King was (I won’t say up, or +stirring, but) out of Bed, young _Goodland_ and _Philibella_ 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 _Philip_, 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 _Philibella_? She will be with us at Dinner. +Where’s her Majesty? (ask’d Sir _Philip_) Had you enquir’d before, she +had been here; for, look, she comes! _Friendly_ seems to regard her with +a Kind of Displeasure, and whisper’d Majesty, that he should express no +particular Symptoms of Familiarity with _Lucy_ in his House, at any +Time, especially when _Goodland_ was there, as then he was above with +his Lady and _Philibella_, who came down presently after to Dinner. + +About Four o’Clock, as his Majesty had intrigu’d with her, _Lucy_ took a +Hackney-Coach, and went to her Lodgings; whither about an Hour after, he +follow’d her, Next Morning, at nine, he came to _Friendly’s_, 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 _Goodland_ and +_Philibella_ 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 _Philip_, and without speaking one Word, +left ’em, and hurry’d to _Lucy_, to lament the ill Treatment he had met +with from _Friendly_. 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 _Lucy_ 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 _Friendly_ 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 _Epithalamium_, these Words and more: + + _Joy to great +Bantam!+ + Live long, love and wanton! + And thy Royal Consort! + For both are of one Sort, +&c.+_ + +The rest I have forgot. He took some Offence at the Words; but more at +the Visit that Sir _Philip_, and _Goodland_, made him, about an Hour +after, who found him in Bed with his Royal Consort; and after having +wish’d ’em Joy, and thrown their Majesties own Shoes and Stockings 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 _Hayoumorecake Bantam_, while her Majesty lay in like a pretty +Queen. + + + + +NOTES: The King of Bantam. + + +p. 17 _last new Plays, being then in the Year 1683_. The new plays acted +at the Theatre Royal in 1682 were: Southerne’s _The Loyal Brother; or, +The Persian Prince_; Tate’s _Ingratitude of a Commonwealth; or, The Fall +of Caius Marius Coriolanus_; Settle’s _The Heir of Morocco, with the +Death of Gayland_; Banks’ _The Unhappy Favourite; or, the Earl of +Essex_; D’Urfey’s _The Injur’d Princess; or, The Fatal Wager_. There +were also an unusual number of revivals of the older plays at this +house. At Dorset Garden the following were produced: Otway’s _Venice +Preserved; or, A Plot Discovered_; Mrs. Behn’s _The City Heiress; or, +Sir Timothy Treatall_; D’Urfey’s _The Royalist_; Mrs. Behn’s _The False +Count; or, A New Way to Play an Old Game_; Banks’ _Virtue Betray’d; or, +Anna Bullen_; Mrs. Behn’s _The Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause_; +Ravenscroft’s _The London Cuckolds_; and _Romulus and Hersilia; or, The +Sabine War_, an anonymous tragedy. There were also notable revivals of +Randolph’s _The Jealous Lovers_, and Fletcher’s _The Maid in the Mill_. +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 tragedy, +_The Duke of Guise_, 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. 20 _Statira, . . . Roxana._ In allusion to the two rival princesses +for Alexander’s love as they appear in Nat Lee’s famous tragedy, _The +Rival Queens; or, Alexander the Great_, 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. 24 _forty the Lurch_. ‘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’--_N.E.D._ cf. Urquhart’s _Rabelais_ (1653), II, xii: +‘By two of my table-men in the corner point I have gained the lurch.’ +Gouldman’s _Latin Dictionary_ (1674), gives: ‘A lurch; _duplex palma, +facilis victoria_.’ + +p. 26 _to Locket’s, where they din’d_. 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 _The Country Wife_ (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, iii). In Shadwell’s _The Scowerers_ (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, i). In Vanbrugh’s _The +Relapse_ (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. 27 _A King and no King._ 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. 27 _The Rose._ There are repeated references to this celebrated +tavern which stood in Russell Street, Covent Garden. _vide_ _The Younger +Brother_, I, ii (Vol. IV), Motteux’ Song: ‘Thence to the Rose where he +takes his three Flasks,’ and the note on that passage. + +p. 29 _The London-Cuckolds._ 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 _Eastward Hoe_ at Drury Lane for the +annual performance of _The London Cuckolds_, 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 _The Provoked Husband_. It has often been stated +(e.g. by Professor A. W. Ward--‘Ravenscroft’--_Dictionary of National +Biography_) that this royal command gave _The London Cuckolds_ its final +_congé_, 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. 30 _Your Honour . . . must be set down at Long’s._ 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 _Mr. Limberham_ (1678), Brainsick +cries: ‘I have won a wager to be spent luxuriously at Long’s.’ In +Etheredge’s _The Man of Mode_ (1676), the following conversation +occurs:-- + + _Bellair._ Where do you dine? + _Dorimant._ At Long’s or Locket’s. + _Medley._ At Long’s let it be. + +p. 30 _the King’s Box_. 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 _The Man of Mode_ (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 King’s box at an +old play.’ In Tom Brown’s _Letters from the Dead to the Living_[1] 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. 31 _Jermain-Street._ Jermyn Street runs parallel with Piccadilly from +the Haymarket to St. James. It was built _circa_ 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.--_The Virtuoso_ (1676), +III, ii. 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. 34 _after having . . . thrown their Majesties own Shoes and +Stockings_. For this old bridal custom see _ante_, Vol. III (p. 223), +_The Lucky Chance_, II, ii: ‘we’ll toss the Stocking’; and the note on +that passage. + + [Footnote 1: 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 _The + Scowerers_ (1691); the Parson in D’Urfey’s _Love for Money_ + (1696).] + + +Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The King of Bantam_ + +Note to p. 27: _vide_ _The Younger Brother_, I, ii (Vol. IV), Motteux’ +Song: ‘Thence to the Rose where he takes his three Flasks,’ and the note +on that passage. + + _Younger Brother_ text: + + Then jogs to the _Play-house_, and chats with the Masks, + And thence to the _Rose_, where he takes his three Flasks. + + _Younger Brother_ note: + + _the Rose._ 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. + +Note to p. 34: For this old bridal custom see _ante_, Vol. III (p. 223), +_The Lucky Chance_, II, ii: ‘we’ll toss the Stocking’; and the note on +that passage. + + _Lucky Chance_ text: + + Come, Gentlemen, one Bottle, and then--we’ll toss the Stocking. + + _Lucky Chance_ note: + + _we’ll toss the Stocking_. 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.’ + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE _UNFORTUNATE HAPPY LADY_: A True History. + + +I cannot omit giving the World an account, of the uncommon Villany of a +Gentleman of a good Family in _England_ 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 _William Wilding_, who succeeded +his Father Sir _Edward_, in an Estate of near 4000_l._ 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_l._ 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 _London_, +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 _Philadelphia_, a +young Lady of excellent Beauty, Education, and Virtue; who, fore-seeing +the utter Ruin of the Estate, if not timely prevented, daily begg’d of +him, with Prayers and Tears, that might have mov’d a _Scythian_ or wild +_Arab_, 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 _London_; +adding, that she was a Lady of incomparable Morals, and of a matchless +Life and Conversation. _Philadelphia_ 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 _Beldams_, 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 Morrow: In the mean time, I’ll drink your Health in a Bottle of +_Sherry_ or two, O! Cry your Mercy, good my Lady _Beldam_, (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 _William_, added she, seeing him leave her in haste. + +Never were three Persons better pleas’d for a Time than this unnatural +Man, his sweet innocent Sister, and the Lady _Beldam_; upon his return +to _Philadelphia_, 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 _William’s_ +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_l._ 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. + +About Ten the next Morning, Sir _William_ 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 after a very splendid Entertainment for Breakfast: The +Furniture was all very modish and rich, and the Attendance was suitable. +Nor was the Lady _Beldam’s_ Conversation less obliging and modest, than +Sir _William’s_ Discourse had given _Philadelphia_ 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 _William_, who has had the Happiness of your Acquaintance +for some Months: Something for Sir _William_, (returned the venerable +Lady _Beldam_) 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 _Philadelphia_: 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. --So, once more, +(added he) my Dear! and, Madam! I am your humble Servant _Jusqu’ +a Revoir_, and went out bowing. Heavens bless my dear Brother! (cry’d +_Philadelphia_) your Honour’s most Faithful and obedient Servant, said +the venerable _Beldam_. + +No sooner was the treacherous Brother gone, than the old Lady taking +_Philadelphia_ by the Hand, led her into the Parlour; where she began to +her to this Effect: _If I mistake not, Madam, you were pleas’d to call +Sir +William+ 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?_ _Philadelphia_ 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 _Eve_) that I have so visibly disturb’d you by +my Curiosity: But, indeed, Madam, Sir _William_ 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 _William_, 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 _William_ and I +do so? reply’d _Philadelphia_, by way of Question. ’Twere no imprudence, +if you did, Madam, return’d old Lady _Beldam_, 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 _Philadelphia_, 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 _William Wilding_; 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 Ladyship’s +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. + +But, pray, Madam, (pursu’d she) what is your Portion? And what makes you +doubt your Brother’s Kindness? _Philadelphia_ 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 long after they went to Dinner; +and in the Afternoon, three or four young Ladies came to visit the Right +Reverend the Lady _Beldam_; 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. +_Cherbetts_, _Ros Solis_, rich and small Wines, with Tea, Chocolate, +_&c._ 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 _Tommy_ 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 _Francis_ +with him there? (ask’d the first) yes, (answer’d the third) Sir _Thomas_ +and Sir _Francis_ took Coach from St. _James’s_, 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 +Musick, Madam? (ask’d the old Lady _Beldam_) Sometimes, Madam, (reply’d +_Philadelphia_) 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? +_Philadelphia_ 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. + +How long have you liv’d then, Madam? (ask’d the Lady _Beldam_) too long +by almost sixteen Years, (reply’d _Philadelphia_) had Heaven seen good. +This Conversation lasted till Word was brought that Sir _Francis_ and +Sir _Thomas_, 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 _Beldam_ waited on her. For, these were none of +the Sparks to whom _Philadelphia_ 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 +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 _Beldam’s_ Discourse, and that +this was their Place of Assignation: Suspecting too, that either Sir +_Francis_, or Sir _Thomas_, of whom she had heard not long before, was +Sir _William_, 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. _Philadelphia_ 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 +_Philadelphia_ 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 _Beldam_ herself came in her _Dishabille_, to assure her +of her Brother’s Company with ’em at Dinner, exactly at One a Clock; and +finding _Philadelphia_ 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 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 _Philadelphia_) I’ll make haste and Dress too. Good Morrow +to your Ladyship (return’d the design’d Victim) when she was _Habille_, +she desir’d the Servant to withdraw; after which she betook herself to +her Devotion; at the end of which the Lady _Beldam_ return’d, attended +by a Servant, who brought some Bread and Wine for her Breakfast; which +might then be seasonable enough to _Philadelphia_; who cou’d not forbear +discovering the Apprehensions she had of her Brother’s Unkindness, still +entertaining her _Reverence_, 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 _Beldam_, that one Sir +_William Wilding_ 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 +_Beldam_, that a Gentleman below enquir’d for Sir _William Wilding_, +whom she immediately went down to receive, and led up to _Philadelphia_. +Madam, (cry’d the great Mistress of her Art) this is the Gentleman whom +Sir _William_ 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. 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 +_Gracelove_, for that was the Gentleman’s Name, saluted _Philadelphia_, +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 _William_ came? To which he +reply’d, that Sir _William_ 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, _Gracelove_ 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 _Turkey_ Merchant: He had +Travell’d much, for his Age, not having then reach’d Thirty, and had +seen most of the Courts in _Christendom_: 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 _William_; so Dinner was serv’d up +in the Room next to _Philadelphia’s_ Bed-chamber. What they had was Nice +and Seasonable; and they were all Three as Pleasant as cou’d be +expected, without Sir _William_; to whose Health the Glass went round +once or twice. Dinner over, and the Table clear’d, the old Lady _Beldam_ +entreated Mr. _Gracelove_ to entertain the young Lady with a Discourse +of his Travels, and of 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 _Philadelphia_; 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 _Philadelphia_ of a quite contrary +Nature to the Preceding, which requir’d Privacy: But how grateful her +Absence was to _Philadelphia_, we may judge by the Sequel. Madam, (said +_Gracelove_) 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 +_William_. Is he the happy Man then, Madam? (said _Gracelove_.) 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 _William_. 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 _Gracelove_) she’s gone purposely out of hearing. Am I +betray’d then? She cried. Betray’d! as if your 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 _Beldam_ 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 _Barbarians_, 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, 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 _Gracelove_ +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 _Edward_, 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, 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 _Beldam_) 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 _William_ should +come. Never doubt it! Come up with me, (cry’d he) you’ll see a strange +Alteration, I believe. To _Philadelphia_ 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 Money, and +other Things of Value, so, Madam, (said _Beldam_) 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 _William_. 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. +_Gracelove_? (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) _The Cheats, +Mother+, the Cheats._ (answer’d +_Gracelove_.) Ha, (said _Beldam_, laughing) a very pretty Comedy, +indeed! Ay, if well play’d, return’d he. At these Words, they went down, +where a Coach was call’d; which carry’d ’em to Counsellor _Fairlaw’s_ +House, in _Great Lincolns-Inn-Fields_, whom they found accidentally at +Home; but his Lady and Daughter were just gone to Chapel, being then +turn’d of Five. _Gracelove_ 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 _Gracelove_) and then began +to inform _Fairlaw_ 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. +_Philadelphia_ 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 _Fairlaw_ 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. _Gracelove_ stay’d +there ’till after Supper, and left her extremely satisfy’d with her new +Station. ’Twas 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, _Gracelove_ took a +Constable and some other Assistants, and went to _Beldam’s_ 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 _Gracelove_ of his +Bargain; who then pretended he would search the House for Sir _William +Wilding_; 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 _Philadelphia_ with her. With these Things, and this +Account he return’d to Counsellor _Fairlaw’s_, who desir’d _Gracelove_, +if possible, to find out Sir _William_, and employ’d several others on +the same Account. In less than a Month’s Time _Gracelove_ had the good +Fortune to find him at his Lodgings in _Soho-Square_, where he +discours’d him about his Sister’s Portion, and desir’d Sir _William_ 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. +_Wilding_ ask’d where she was? t’other enquir’d where he left her? Sir +_William_ 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 _Gracelove_) I have deliver’d her out of the Jaws of Perdition +and Hell. Come, Sir _William_, (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 _Beldam’s_, 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 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 _Savoy_, +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. _Gracelove_ in the mean Time +return’d to the Counsellor’s, with a great deal of Joy, for having +discover’d Sir _William_ at his Lodgings, which was likewise no little +Satisfaction to _Fairlaw_, his Lady and Daughter; _Philadelphia_ 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 _Sportman_. 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. + +_Gracelove_ by this Time had entertain’d the sincerest Affections and +noblest Passion that Man can be capable of, for _Philadelphia_; 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 going to +_Turkey_; 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 +_Gracelove_ to your better-busy’d Thoughts. Ah, _Gracelove_! (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 _Philadelphia_, 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 _Gracelove’s_ 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, _Gracelove_ 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 Gentleman returns Home, +afflicts his poor sorrowful Lady and Daughter, and almost kills unhappy +_Philadelphia_; who the next Day, by mere Chance, and from a Stranger, +who came on Business to the Counsellor, heard, that one Sir _William +Wilding_, an extravagant, mad, young Spark of such a County, who lately +went by the borrow’d Name and Title of ’Squire _Sportman_, had mortgag’d +all his Estate, which was near four thousand a Year, and carry’d the +Money over with him into _France_ 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 _Fairlaw_ and _Eugenia_, 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 _Gracelove_ 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 _Fairlaw_ a +Relation: That ’twas certain he had lost above 12000_l._ and had like +to have lost his Life; but being very expert in Swimming, he got to +Shoar upon the Coast of _Barbary_, 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 _England_;) amongst which Counsellor +_Fairlaw_ 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 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. + +Two Years more pass’d on; towards the latter of which the old Lady +_Fairlaw_ 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 _Philadelphia_ 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 _Philadelphia_; which was now a great Satisfaction to her; +since she was assur’d, that if he marry’d her, she would prove an +excellent Nurse to him, and prolong his Life by some Years. As for +_Eugenia_, (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 _Philadelphia_, reminding her that +now the Death of _Gracelove_ 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’ 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 +_Eugenia_; who lov’d _Philadelphia_ sincerely. They kept their +Wedding very nobly for a Month, at their own House in _Great +Lincolns-Inn-Fields_; but the Memory of the old Lady was still so fresh +with the young Lady _Fairlaw_, that she prevail’d with him to remove to +another, more convenient as she fancy’d, in _Covent-Garden_. 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, _Eugenia_ 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 +_Eugenia_, at their Country-Seat, and most Part of the Winter too; for +_Eugenia_ 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 _Philadelphia’s_ 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, as our dear +King _Charles_, 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 _Gracelove_, devour’d by the +greedy Inhabitants of the Sea. + +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 _France_, whence he return’d +to _England_, and pursuing his old profuse Manner of Living, contracted +above 100_l._ Debts here, in less than four Months Time; which not being +able to satisfy, he was arrested, and thrown into a Goal, whence he +remov’d himself into the _King’s Bench_, on that very Day that old +_Fairlaw_ 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 _Gracelove_ some +Years past. Often he wish’d to see her, but in vain; however, the next +_Easter_ after the old Counsellor’s Death, _Philadelphia_, 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 _King’s +Bench_, where he heard ’em call Sir _William Wilding_ 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 _William’s_ +Fellow-Collegians, of what Country Sir _William_ was? How long 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 _Philadelphia’s_ 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 _William_ 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, _Philadelphia_ had paid 25000_l._ +and taken off the Mortgages on 2500_l._ _per Annum_ of her Brother’s +Estate; and coming to Town from _Eugenia’s_ Country-House one Day, to +make the last Payment of two thousand Pounds, looking out of her Coach +on the Road, near _Dartford_, 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 _Gracelove_, or his Ghost: For, to say +Truth, he was very pale and thin, his Complexion 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 +_Gracelove_, 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 _Dartford_; 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. + +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 _Turks_, as I have before related; adding, that his +Name was _Gracelove_. This was the greatest Happiness, certainly, that +ever yet the dear beautiful Creature was sensible of. On t’other Side, +_Gracelove_ 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 +_Fairlaw_, his Lady, or another young Lady, whom he plac’d and left with +his Cousins. Counsellor _Fairlaw_! (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 +_Gracelove_) 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 +_Gracelove_) whereabouts in Town they liv’d before? Yes, Sir, +(return’d the Steward, who was taught how to answer) in _Great +Lincolns-Inn-Fields_, I think, Alas! (cry’d _Gracelove_) ’twas the same +Gentleman to whom I design’d to apply my self when I came to _England_. +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 +_Gracelove_) 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 _Philadelphia_, and repeated it almost _verbatim_ to +her; who order’d _Gracelove_ should be taken Measure of by the best +Taylor in _Covent-Garden_; 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 _Gracelove_, 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_l._ +a Year at Court; and a County Gentleman, of a very plentiful Estate, +a Widower, 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 +_Eugenia_ 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 _Philadelphia_ 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. _Eugenia_ 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. + +The Day came, and just at Twelve, _Gracelove_, meeting the Steward on +the Stairs coming from his Lady, _Gracelove_ then told him, that he +believ’d he might take the Opportunity of that Afternoon to go over to +_Putney_, 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. +_Philadelphia_, who overheard what they said, call’d the Steward in +Haste, and bid him call _Gracelove_ 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 +_Eugenia_ came in, who look’d back on _Gracelove_: 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 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. _Philadelphia_ 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. + +After Dinner the Cloth was taken away; She began thus to her Lovers: My +Lord! Sir _Thomas_! and Mr. _Fat-acres_! 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. + +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 _Gracelove_, +(cry’d she) I drank to thee; and send thee back thy own Ring, with +_Philadelphia’s_ 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 it? 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. + +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. _Rightman_, do you serve up +that Dish your self. _Rightman_ then set a cover’d Dish on the Table. +What! more Tricks yet? (cry’d my Lord and Sir _Thomas_) Come, Sir +_William_! (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 _William_ eagerly kiss’d +_Eugenia’s_, who blush’d, and said, Thus, Madam, I hope to shew how much +I love and honour you. My Cousin _Eugenia_! (cry’d _Gracelove_!) The +same, my dear lost dead Cousin _Gracelove_! (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. + + _FINIS._ + + + + +NOTES: The Unfortunate Happy Lady. + + +p. 43 _Ros Solis._ A potent and well-liked tipple. + + We abandon all ale + And beer that is stale + Rosa-solis and damnable hum, + But we will rack + In the praise of sack + ’Gainst Omne quod exit in um. + + --_Witts Recreation_ (1654). + +_The Accomplished Female Instructor_ 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. 51 _The Cheats, Mother, the Cheats._ John Wilson’s excellent comedy, +_The Cheats_, 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. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE FAIR JILT. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Although _The Fair Jilt_ was published in 1688, it is interesting to +note that ten years earlier, Michaelmas Term, 1678, there is advertised +for R. Tonson _The Amorous Convert; being a true Relation of what +happened in Holland_, 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 Tarpuin 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. + +_The Fair Jilt_ 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’. + + + + + To + HENRY PAIN, ESQ; + + Sir, + +Dedications 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; _For better, +for worse_; at lest with a feign’d Civility. + +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 _Tarquin_, I bring a Prince to kiss your Hands, who +own’d himself, and was receiv’d, as the last of the Race of the _Roman_ +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. + +’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 +_English_ Subject, a Spirit as illustrious, a Heart as fearless, a Wit +and Eloquence as excellent, as _Rome_ 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 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. + +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. + +The particular Obligations I have to your Bounty and Goodness, O Noble +Friend, and Patron of the _Muses_! 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 currant 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, + + SIR, + Your most Obliged, and + Most Humble Servant, + _A. BEHN_. + + + + +THE _FAIR JILT_: or, The Amours of Prince _Tarquin_ and _Miranda_. + + +As 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. + +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 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 Scrutore perpetually +employ’d; _Billet-doux_ and _Madrigals_ 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 _Cælia_, 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. + +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. + +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 _a God all soft and gentle_, and reigns more +like _a Fury from Hell_. + +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. _Francis_: But for the Sake of +some of her Relations, I shall give my _Fair Jilt_ a feign’d Name, that +of _Miranda_; but my Hero must retain his own, it being too illustrious +to be conceal’d. + +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 _Nuns_, that make solemn Vows of perpetual Chastity; There are +others who make but a simple Vow, as for five or ten Years, or 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 _Galloping Nuns_: Of these there are several Orders; +as _Canonesses_, _Begines_, _Quests_, _Swart-Sisters_, and +_Jesuitesses_, with several others I have forgot. Of those of the +_Begines_ was our _Fair Votress_. + +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 _Filles Devotes_; +where they have a regulated Government, under a sort of _Abbess_, or +_Prioress_, or rather a _Governante_. 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 _England_, only without a _Bando_; 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’ _Miranda_ thought her Wit above +it, as her Spirit was. + +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 these fair _Filles +Devotes_, 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. + +Of this happy Number was the fair _Miranda_, 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 _Sisterhood_. 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 of Education; and was now arriv’d to her +Eighteenth Year. + +’Twere needless to tell you how great a Noise the Fame of this young +Beauty, with so considerable a Fortune, made 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 _Antwerp_, or pass’d thro’ the City, but made it his Business to +see the lovely _Miranda_, 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 _Miranda_ 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 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. + +There was a Church belonging to the _Cordeliers_, whither _Miranda_ +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 _Miranda_. 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 _Miranda_. 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. + +She gaz’d upon him, while he bow’d before her, and 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 _Miranda_ 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 _Fille Devote_, who attended +her; so absolutely was her Soul employ’d with this young Holy Man. +_Cornelia_ (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, _said she_, did you not observe that fine young +_Cordelier_, who brought the Box?’ At a Question that nam’d that Object +of her Thoughts, _Miranda_ blush’d; and she finding she did so, +redoubled her Confusion, and she had scarce Courage enough to +say,--_Yes, I did observe him_: 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, (_reply’d +Cornelia+_) when you +know his _Story_, you will not wonder.’ _Miranda_, who was impatient to +know all that concern’d her new Conqueror, obliged her to tell his +Story; and _Cornelia_ obey’d, and proceeded. + + + _The Story of Prince +Henrick+._ + +‘You must know, Madam, that this young Holy Man is a Prince of +_Germany_, of the House of ----, 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. + +‘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 _Henrick_ (this now young Friar) to +approach no more this Lady, whom he had seen; and seeing, lov’d. + +‘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 +_Henrick_ 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. + +‘In short, he speaks of his Design to his Mother, who promis’d him her +Assistance; and accordingly proposing 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 _Henrick’s_ Brother, the Hour was appointed before she knew of the +Sacrifice she was to be made. And while this was in Agitation, _Henrick_ +was sent on some great Affairs, up into _Germany_, far out of the Way; +not but his boding Heart, with perpetual Sighs and Throbs, eternally +foretold him his Fate. + +‘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. + +‘She complains, in her Heart, of young _Henrick_, 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 _Henrick_ 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 _Germany_. + +‘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 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. + +‘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. + +‘_Henrick_, 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 _Henrick_ fix’d like a Statue; at last Grief and Rage took +Place of Amazement, and he could not forbear crying out, _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?_ 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 _Henrick_, 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 +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 _Henrick_, +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 _Henrick_ 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 _Henrick_ approach’d her, +and every Visit more and more confirmed his Death. + +‘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 +_Henrick_ approach his Wife; so that the Father, fearing some ill +Consequence of this, besought _Henrick_ to withdraw to some other +Country, or travel into _Italy_, 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. + +‘That which pass’d between the Father and _Henrick_, 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 of 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, _Prince, you must die_--_I do believe +thee_, (reply’d _Henrick_) _but not by a Hand so base as thine_: And at +the same Time drawing his Sword, run him into the Groin. When the Fellow +found himself so wounded, he wheel’d off and cry’d, _Thou art a Prophet, +and hast rewarded my Treachery with Death._ 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, _Hold, +Traytor; we relent, and he shall not die._ He reply’d, _’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._ +At that they all fled, and left the Prince lying under a Tree, weltering +in his Blood. + +‘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 +_Flanders_, in the Habit of a Pilgrim, and after some Time took the +Order of St. _Francis_, 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. + +‘My Brother, Madam, was an Officer under the Prince his Father, and knew +his Story perfectly well; from whose Mouth I had it.’ + +_What!_ (reply’d _Miranda_ then) _is Father +Henrick+ a Man of Quality_? +_Yes, Madam_, (said _Cornelia_) _and has changed his Name to ++Francisco+._ But _Miranda_, 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 _Beaux Esprits_, and all +the Beauties. But it was visible _Miranda_ was not so gay as she used to +be; but pensive, and answering _mal a propos_ 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 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 _Henrick_ would be glad, at +least, to quench that Flame in himself, by an Amour with her, which was +kindled by the young Princess of ---- his Sister. + +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. + +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. + +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 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 _Cordeliers_. +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 _Francisco_; 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. + +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. + +The next Day, _Miranda_, 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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 _Vespers_, +purposing to make Choice of the conquering Friar for her Confessor. + +She approach’d him; and as she did so, she trembled with Love. At last +she cry’d, _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._ + +He could not refuse her; and let her into the _Sacristy_, 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 little +Place very light and splendid, which shone full upon _Miranda_. + +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. + +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 _Miranda_, opening the finest Mouth in the +World, and discovering new Charms, began her Confession. + +‘Holy Father (_said she_) amongst the Number of my vile Offences, that +which afflicts me to the greatest Degree, is, that I am in love: Not +(_continued she_) that I believe simple and virtuous Love a Sin, when +’tis plac’d on an Object proper and suitable; but, my dear Father, +(_said she, and wept_) 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? (_reply’d the Father._) No; +(_answer’d +Miranda+._) Are you so? (_continued he._) Neither, (_said +she._) Is he too near ally’d to you? (_said +Francisco+:_) a Brother, or +Relation? Neither of these, (_said she._) 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. 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.’-- + +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. + +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 +_Scapular_, 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 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 (_said she_) 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.’ + +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.’ + +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 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.’-- + +At these Words _Miranda_, 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, _Help, +Help! A Rape! Help, Help!_ 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 _Sacristy_, which was shut with a Spring-Lock on the Inside, but +they durst not open the Door. + +’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. + +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 _Miranda_ and the good Father +very indecently struggling; which they mis-interpreted, as _Miranda_ +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, 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.’ + +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. + +‘--At first, (_proceeded she_) 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 Tongue will be eternally reproaching you, and cursing the wicked +Author of my Infamy.’ + +She ended as she began, with a thousand Sighs and Tears; and received +from the Provincial all Assurances of Revenge. + +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. + +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.’ + +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. + +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. + +After his Sentence was pass’d, the whole Body of Priests made their +Addresses to the Marquis _Castel Roderigo_, the then Governor of +_Flanders_, 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. + +About this time, while the poor innocent young _Henrick_ was thus +languishing in Prison, in a dark and dismal Dungeon, and _Miranda_, +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 _Tarquin_. + +We had often heard of this great Man, and that he was making his Travels +in _France_ and _Germany_: And we had also heard, that some Years +before, he being about Eighteen Years of Age, in the Time when our King +_Charles_, of blessed Memory, was in _Brussels_, 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 Place of all the Princes in +that Court. And when his Pretence was demanded, he own’d himself Prince +_Tarquin_, of the Race of the last Kings of _Rome_, 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 _Antwerp_, about the +Time of my being sent thither by King _Charles_. + +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. + +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 _Tarquin_ 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 _Roman_ Kings very +well out, that he could not lay so good a Claim to the _Roman_ 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. + +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 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. + +You may believe, our amorous _Miranda_ 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. _Jesu!_--A young King of _Rome!_ +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 _Lucretia_ that this young _Tarquin_ should ravish. + +To this End, she was no sooner up the next Day, but she sent him a +_Billet Doux_, 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 _Belle_ Conversations, _&c._ 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. + +But what a Noise and Humming was heard all over the Church, when +_Tarquin_ 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 _Miranda_, 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 _Roman_ Monarch so charming, she +appear’d like something more than mortal, and compelled 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. + +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 _Miranda_, +began to curse and envy her Charms, who had deprived them of half their +Hopes. + +After this, I need not tell you, he made _Miranda_ 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. + +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 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. + +She was no sooner married, but her Uncle died; and dividing his Fortune +between _Miranda_ and her Sister, leaves the young Heiress, and all her +Fortune, entirely in the Hands of the Princess. + +We will call this Sister _Alcidiana_; she was about fourteen Years of +Age, and now had chosen her Brother, the Prince, for her Guardian. If +_Alcidiana_ 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. + +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 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. + +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 _Alcidiana_; 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 _Miranda_ 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 _Alcidiana_, +that she, taking an Opportunity, got from her Guard, and ran away, +putting her self into the Hands of a wealthy 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 _Antwerp_ +again, to renew his Courtship. + +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 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. + +She had a Page call’d _Van Brune_, 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 _Alcidiana_ +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, _Alcidiana_ retained still a sort of Tenderness for him, +while he burn’d in good Earnest with Love for the Princess. + +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 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, _’Twas to kill her Sister_ Alcidiana. The Youth, without so +much as starting or pausing upon the Matter, told her, _It should be +done_; 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. + +He no sooner left her Presence, but he goes directly, and buys a Dose of +Poison, and went immediately to the House where _Alcidiana_ 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 _Alcidiana_ 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. + +About this Time, there was a great Talk of this Page’s coming from one +Sister, to go to the other. And Prince _Tarquin_, who was ignorant of +the Design from the Beginning to the End, hearing some Men of Quality at +his Table speaking of _Van Brune’s_ 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 _Van Brune_; +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. + +The ensuing Day ’twas all about the Town, that _Alcidiana_ 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 _Mittimus_, and sent him to +Prison. + +’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. And the Doctors apply’d such Remedies to +_Alcidiana_, 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. + +It was not long before the Trials for Criminals came on; and the Day +being arrived, _Van Brune_ 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. + +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 _Alcidiana_ was 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. + +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 _Francisco_ 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. + +You may imagine _Tarquin_ 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. + +The next Day, she was tried in open and common Court; where she appeared +in Glory, led by _Tarquin_, 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 fastned to the Gibbet where the Page was hanging; and to +have an Inscription, in large Characters, upon her Back and Breast, of +the Cause why; where she was to stand from ten in the Morning to twelve. + +This Sentence, the People with one Accord, believed too favourable for +so ill a Woman, whose Crimes deserved Death, equal to that of _Van +Brune_. Nevertheless, there were some who said, it was infinitely more +severe than Death it self. + +The following _Friday_ 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. + +When they arrived at the Place of Execution, the Cushion was laid on the +Ground, upon a _Portugal_ 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. + +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, _Van +Brune_, 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. + +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 long. He had a Prayer-Book of black Velvet +in his Hand, and behaved himself with much Penitence and Devotion. + +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 do_-- + +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, _Tarquin_ 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. + +If the Guardian of _Alcidiana_, 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 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. + +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 _Van Brune_. 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. + +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 +_Tarquin_, 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 _Alcidiana_: And therefore, without +ceasing, she wept, and cry’d out, ‘She could not live, unless +_Alcidiana_ died. This _Alcidiana_ (_continued she_) who has been the +Author of my 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.’ + +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, ‘_Alcidiana_ 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.’ + +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. + +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 _Germany_, as from the +Relations of _Van Brune_, who threaten’d _Alcidiana_ with Death, for +depriving their 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 _Alcidiana_ 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. + +The Prince, who now had, by reasoning the Matter soberly with _Miranda_, +found it absolutely necessary to dispatch _Alcidiana_, 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. + +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 +_Sunday_, 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 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 _Alcidiana_ 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 _Alcidiana_; 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. _Tarquin_ 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 am shot, I am dead._ + +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 _German_, stopped him; and +drawing upon him, bad him stand, and deliver his Pistol, or he would run +him through. + +_Tarquin_ 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 _Alcidiana_ 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 _German_ bad him deliver his Pistol, he cried, _Though I have no +Pistol to deliver, I have a Sword to chastise thy Insolence_. And +throwing off his Cloak, and flinging his Pistol from him, he drew, and +wounded, and disarmed the Fellow. + +This Noise of Swords brought every body to the Place; and immediately +the Bruit ran, _The Murderer was taken, the Murderer was taken_; 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 _Alcidiana_, who by +this Time found his Lady unhurt, all but the Trains of her Gown and +Petticoat, came running to the Place, just as _Tarquin_ had disarm’d the +_German_, and was ready to kill him; when laying hold of his Arm, they +arrested the Stroke, and redeemed the Footman. + +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 _Tarquin_ in Disguise: And they carry’d him +directly to Prison, being _Sunday_, to wait the coming Day, to go before +a Magistrate. + +In an Hour’s Time the whole fatal Adventure was carried all over the +City, and every one knew that _Tarquin_ was the intended Murderer of +_Alcidiana_; 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 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. + +The _Monday_ 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 _Alcidiana_. And +the Princess, all in Rage, tearing her Hair, was carried to the same +Prison, to behold the cruel Effects of her hellish Designs. + +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 _Miranda’s_ 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 have ++Miranda+ still._ + +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: 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. + +He lay a long Time in Prison, and all that Time the poor Father +_Francisco_ 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 _Tarquin_, +entertained ’em often with holy Matters relating to the Life to come; +from which, before his Trial, he gathered what his Stars had appointed, +and that he was destin’d to die. + +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 _Francisco_; 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. + +At the End of six Months, Prince _Tarquin_ 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 _Alcidiana_, was condemned to lose his Head in the +Market-Place, and the Princess to be banished her Country. + +After Sentence pronounced, to the real Grief of all the Spectators, he +was carry’d back to Prison, and now the 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 _Antwerp_. + +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 _Brussels_, 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 _Holland_, 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 _Francisco_ so interested himself +in this Concern, that he writ to his Father, and several Princes of +_Germany_, with whom the Marquis _Castel Roderigo_ was well acquainted, +to intercede with him for the saving of _Tarquin_; since ’twas more by +his Persuasions, than those of all who attacked her, that made _Miranda_ +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. + +On the following _Friday_, 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 _Tarquin_, 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. + +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 _Miranda_, his adorable Princess.’ + +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 +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, _That nothing could be seen more deplorable +and melancholy_. 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 _Tarquin_ +out of Prison. + +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 +_Francisco_ 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 _England_. The Scaffold had a low Rail about it, that every body +might more conveniently see. This was hung with black, and all that +State that such a Death could have, was here in most decent Order. + +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 _Louis d’Ors_; 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. + +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, 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. + +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 overjoy’d 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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +After this, _Alcidiana_, 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. + +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 _Flanders_, 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 _Holland_; +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. + +As soon as _Miranda_ was come into _Holland_, she was welcom’d with all +imaginable Respect and Endearment by the old Father; who was impos’d +upon so, as that he 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 _Tarquin_ with a Joy +unspeakable; who, after some Time, to redeem his Credit, and gain +himself a new Fame, put himself into the _French_ 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 _Miranda_ 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. + +Since I began this Relation, I heard that Prince _Tarquin_, dy’d about +three Quarters of a Year ago. + + + + +NOTES: The Fair Jilt. + + +p. 70 _To Henry Pain, Esq._ Henry Neville Payne, politician and author, +was a thorough Tory and an ardent partisan of James II. Downes ascribes +to him three plays: _The Fatal Jealousy_, produced at Dorset Garden in +the winter of 1672, a good, if somewhat vehement, tragedy (4to, 1673); +_Morning Ramble; or, Town Humours_, produced at the same theatre in 1673 +(4to, 1673), which, though lacking in plot and quick incident, is far +from a bad comedy; and _The Siege of Constantinople_, 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:-- + + My Lord, you know your old house, Mother Somelie’s, + You know she always fits you with fresh girls. + +Mother Somelie is, of course, the notorious Mother Mosely. + +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. 72 _The Fair Jilt._ Editio princeps, ‘London. Printed by _R. Holt_ +for _Will. Canning_, at his Shop in the _Temple-Cloysters_’ (1688), +‘Licensed 17 April, 1688. _Ric. Pocock_’, has as title: _The Fair Jilt; +or, The History of Prince Tarquin and Miranda_. As half-title it prints: +_The Fair Hypocrite; or, The Amours of Prince Tarquin and Miranda_. All +subsequent editions, however, give: _The Fair Jilt; or, The Amours of +Prince Tarquin and Miranda_. The Dedication only occurs in the first +edition. + +p. 73 _Scrutore._ Escritoire, cf. Sir T. Herbert, _Trav._ (1677): ‘There +they sell . . . Scrutores or Cabinets of Mother of Pearl.’ + +p. 75 _Canonesses, Begines, Quests, Swart-Sisters and Jesuitesses._ +_Canonesses_ 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 Canonesses of Saint-Esprit. Thomassin tells us that the +Béguines were canonesses, and that their name is derived from S. Begghe +(_ob._ 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. + +_Begines._ 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. + +_Quests._ 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 _Frauds of Romish Monks_ +(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 +_Earthquake . . . Peru_, iii, 303 (1748): ‘If the Friars go into the +Country a questing for their Monastery.’ + +_Swart-Sisters._ 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. + +_Jesuitesses._ A common misnomer for the original Congregation founded +by Mary Ward (_ob._ 1645), and named by her ‘The Institute of Mary’. It +was not until 1703 that they were fully approved by Clement XI. + +p. 78 _Cordeliers._ 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. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +OROONOKO; OR THE ROYAL SLAVE. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +The tale of _Oroonoko, the Royal Slave_ 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 ‘_Oroonoko_ 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 _Uncle +Tom’s Cabin_; 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 Aphara tells her prose-epic of her Superman, +Cæsar the slave, Oroonoko the prince. + +It is not difficult to trace the influence of _Oroonoko_. 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. + +It was often reprinted separately from the rest. There is a little 12mo +_Oroonoko_, ‘the ninth edition corrected’, published at Doncaster, 1759, +‘for C. Plummer’, which is rarely seen save in a torn and well-thumbed +state.[1] + +In 1777 the sentimental and highly proper Mrs. Elizabeth Griffith +included _Oroonoko_ in her three volume _Collection of Novels selected +and revised._ _Oroonoko_, ‘written originally by Mrs. Behn and revised +by Mrs. Griffith’[2], was also issued separately, ‘price sixpence’[3], +in 1800, frontispieced by a very crude picture of a black-a-moor about +to attack a tiger. + +As early as 1709 we find _Lebens und Liebes-Geschichte des Königlichen +Sclaven Oroonoko in West-Indien_, a German translation published at +Hamburg, with a portrait of ‘Die Sinnreiche Engelländerin Mrs. Afra +Behn.’ + +In 1745 _Oroonoko_ 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, _Venice +Preserv’d_, _The Fatal Marriage_, _Tom Jones_, and other English +masterpieces. There is another edition of de la Place’s version with +fine plates engraved by C. Baron after Marillier, Londres, 1769. + +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 _vis +comica_. It is perhaps worth noting that the intrigues of Lucy and +Charlotte and the Lackitt _ménage_ were dished up as a short slap-bang +farce by themselves with, curiously enough, two or three scenes _in +extenso_ from Fletcher’s _Monsieur Thomas_ (III, iii, and V, ii). This +hotch potch entitled _The Sexes Mis-match’d; or, A New Way to get a +Husband_ is printed in _The Strollers’ Pacquet open’d_. (12mo, 1741.) On +1 December, 1759, there was brought out at Drury Lane a most insipid +alteration of _Oroonoko_ 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: ‘_Oroonoko_ 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 _Oroonoko_ ‘as it was acted at Edinburgh.’ (12mo, 1760.) There is yet +a fourth bastard: _The Prince of Angola_, by one J. Ferriar, ‘a tragedy +altered from the play of _Oroonoko_ and adapted to the circumstances of +the present times.’[4] (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. + +In 1698 William Walker, a lad nineteen years old, the son of a wealthy +Barbadoes planter, wrote in three weeks a tragedy entitled _Victorious +Love_ (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. _Victorious Love_ +is far from being entirely a bad play; it is, however, very reminiscent +of the heroic tragedies of two decades before. + +Southerne’s _Oroonoko_ 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’. + + [Footnote 1: There were also many chap-books on similar themes + which enjoyed no small popularity, e.g., _The Royal African; or, + The Memoirs of the Young Prince of Annamaboe_ (circa 1750), the + romantic narrative of a negro prince, who became a slave in + Barbadoes, from whence he was redeemed and brought to England.] + + [Footnote 2: Mis-spelt ‘Griffiths’ in the 1800 edition.] + + [Footnote 3: There was ‘a superior edition on a fine wove paper, + Hot-pressed, with Proof Impressions of the Plates. Price only + Nine-pence.’] + + [Footnote 4: The Agitation for the Abolition of the Slave Trade.] + + + + + Epistle Dedicatory. + + TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD MAITLAND. + + [Transcriber’s Note: + The Epistle Dedicatory was printed as an Appendix; see Note.] + + + My Lord, + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 +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, + + My Lord + Your Lordship’s most oblig’d + and obedient Servant + A. Behn. + + + + +THE HISTORY OF THE _ROYAL SLAVE_. + + +I do not pretend, in giving you the History of this _ROYAL SLAVE_, to +entertain my Reader with the Adventures of a feign’d _Hero_, 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. + +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 _Hero_ 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. + +The Scene of the last Part of his Adventures lies in a Colony in +_America_, called _Surinam_, in the _West-Indies_. + +But before I give you the Story of this _Gallant Slave_, ’tis fit I tell +you the Manner of bringing them to these new _Colonies_; those they make +Use of there, not being _Natives_ of the Place: for those we live with +in perfect Amity, 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 _Marmosets_, 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 _Cousheries_, 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 _Miniature_: Then for little +_Paraketoes_, great _Parrots_, _Muckaws_, 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 +_Antiquary’s_; 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 I gave ’em to the _King’s Theatre_; it was the +Dress of the _Indian Queen_, 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 _Adam_ and +_Eve_ did the Fig-leaves; the Men wearing 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 is +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 _Indian_, dying for Love of a very beautiful young +_Indian_ 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 _Idea_ 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 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 _English_ 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 _Lyar_, which was a Word of Infamy to a Gentleman. Then one of ’em +reply’d, _Governor, you are a Lyar, and guilty of that Infamy_. They +have a native Justice, which knows no Fraud; and they understand no +Vice, or Cunning, but when they are taught by the _White_ 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. + +Those on that _Continent_ where I was, had no King; but the oldest +War-Captain was obey’d with great Resignation. + +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. + +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 _Sevana’s_, 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 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. + +Those then whom we make use of to work in our Plantations of Sugar, are +_Negroes_, Black-Slaves altogether, who are transported thither in this +Manner. + +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. + +_Coramantien_, a Country of _Blacks_ 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; 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. + +The King of _Coramantien_ 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 _Mars_: 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. + +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 +_Oroonoko_ (for so was this gallant _Moor_ 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. + +’Twas then, afflicted as _Oroonoko_ 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 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 _Frenchman_ 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 _English_ Gentlemen that traded +thither; and did not only learn their Language, but that of the +_Spaniard_ also, with whom he traded afterwards for Slaves. + +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 _Romans_: He had +heard of the late Civil Wars in _England_, 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 _European_ Court. + +This great and just Character of _Oroonoko_ gave me an extreme Curiosity +to see him, especially when I knew he spoke _French_ and _English_, 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 _Roman_, instead of _African_ 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 +_Oroonoko_ 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. + +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. + +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 _Oroonoko_ 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 _Venus_ to our young _Mars_; 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. + +_Oroonoko_ 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 _Imoinda_, 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 _Oroonoko_, 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 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 _Imoinda_, 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. + +The Prince return’d to Court with quite another Humour than before; and +tho’ he did not speak much of the fair _Imoinda_, 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 _Imoinda! Imoinda!_ + +’Twill be imagin’d _Oroonoko_ 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 _Imoinda_ 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 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 _Christian_ Countries, +where they prefer the bare Name of Religion; and, without Virtue or +Morality, think that sufficient. But _Oroonoko_ 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 _Idea_ in his Mind of the Charms she now bore; +and should look into his Heart for that _Idea_, when he could find it no +longer in her Face. + +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. + +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. + +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 this _Wonder_, +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 _Imoinda_ +was most certainly Mistress to the Prince _Oroonoko_. 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 _Imoinda_, 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 _Oroonoko_ 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 _Imoinda_ to do, Duty would compel her to. + +He was therefore no sooner got into his Apartment, but he sent the Royal +Veil to _Imoinda_; 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. + +’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. + +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 +_Imoinda_, 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. + +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. +_Imoinda_ 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 _Oroonoko_ himself. _Therefore_ +(said he) _deny this Marriage, and swear thyself a Maid. That_ (reply’d +_Imoinda_) _by all our Powers I do; for I am not yet known to my +Husband. ’Tis enough_ (said the King) _’tis enough both to satisfy my +Conscience and my Heart._ And rising from his Seat, he went and led her +into the Bath; it being in vain for her to resist. + +In this Time, the Prince, who was return’d from Hunting, went to visit +his _Imoinda_, 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 _Imoinda_. 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. _Imoinda_ 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 _Imoinda_ 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 fly with her to some unknown World who never heard our +Story.’ + +But it was objected to him, That his Case was not the same: for +_Imoinda_ being his lawful Wife by solemn Contract, ’twas he was the +injur’d Man, and might, if he so pleas’d, take _Imoinda_ back, the +Breach of the Law being on his Grandfather’s Side; and that if he could +circumvent him, and redeem her from the _Otan_, which is the Palace of +the King’s Women, a sort of _Seraglio_, it was both just and lawful for +him so to do. + +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 +_Imoinda’s_ 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 _Otan_ 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. + +While _Oroonoko_ 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 _Oroonoko_; and +oftentimes could not forbear speaking of him, tho’ her Life were, by +Custom, forfeited by owning her Passion. 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 _Imoinda_ 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. + +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 they thought conduc’d best to his Service; +which was, to make the old King fancy that the Prince had no more +Interest in _Imoinda_, 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. + +This pleas’d the old Lover, who fail’d not to report these Things again +to _Imoinda_, 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. + +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 _Imoinda_ he carry’d +him with him in his Train to the _Otan_, often to banquet with his +Mistresses. But as soon as he enter’d, one Day, into the Apartment of +_Imoinda_, 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 stood; and had certainly done so, but for the Support +of _Aboan_, 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, _A +Negro+ can change Colour_: for I have seen ’em as frequently +blush, and look pale, and that as visibly as ever I saw in the most +beautiful _White_. And ’tis certain, that both these Changes were +evident, this Day, in both these Lovers. And _Imoinda_, 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 _Imoinda’s_ 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 _Imoinda_ 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 _Onahal_ (a former old Wife of the King’s, who +now had Charge of _Imoinda_) 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, 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 _Imoinda_! +When _Onahal_ 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 _Imoinda_, 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 _Imoinda_ bore, at this Minute, Part in his Affliction. +_Aboan_ 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 _Onahal_, 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 _Imoinda_ know how faithful he was, +what he suffer’d, and what he said. + +This Discourse lasted till the King called, which gave _Oroonoko_ a +certain Satisfaction; and with the Hope _Onahal_ 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 _Imoinda_ 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, _Onahal_ was retired to a Window with _Aboan_. + +This _Onahal_, 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 +_Oroonoko_ a thousand Fears he should never prevail with _Onahal_ to see +_Imoinda_. But, as I said, she was now retir’d to a Window with _Aboan_. + +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 +_Otan_, he had subdu’d the Heart of the antiquated _Onahal_, 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 _Aboan’s_ 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 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. + +_Aboan_ fail’d not that Night to tell the Prince of his Success, and how +advantageous the Service of _Onahal_ might be to his Amour with +_Imoinda_. 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: _For +then_ (said the Prince) _her Life lying at your Mercy, she must grant +you the Request you make in my Behalf_. _Aboan_ 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 _Otan_. + +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 _Imoinda_: 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. + +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 _Otan_; he therefore urged _Aboan_ to make the best of this +last Effort, and to explain himself so to _Onahal_, that she deferring +her Enjoyment of her young Lover no longer, might make Way for the +Prince to speak to _Imoinda_. + +The whole Affair being agreed on between the Prince and _Aboan_, they +attended the King, as the Custom was, to the _Otan_; where, while the +whole Company was taken up in beholding the Dancing, and Antick Postures +the Women-Royal made to divert the King, _Onahal_ singled out _Aboan_, +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, _Aboan!_ 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, _Aboan_; 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 +_Aboan_. Madam, (_reply’d the half-feigning Youth_) 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.’ + +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, _Madam these are not the Proofs of our +Love that I expect; ’tis Opportunity, ’tis a Lone-Hour only, that can +make me happy._ But forcing the Pearls into his Hand, she whisper’d +softly to him; _Oh! do not fear a Woman’s Invention, when Love sets her +a thinking._ And pressing his Hand, she cry’d, _This Night you shall be +happy. Come to the Gate of the Orange-Grove, behind the +Otan+, and I +will be ready about midnight to receive you._ ’Twas thus agreed, and she +left him, that no Notice might be taken of their speaking together. + +The Ladies were still dancing, and the King, laid on a Carpet, with a +great deal of Pleasure was beholding them, especially _Imoinda_, who +that Day appeared more lovely than ever, being enlivened with the good +Tidings _Onahal_ 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 _Imoinda_ 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 _Imoinda_ +(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 _Imoinda_ 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. + +You may imagine how welcome this News was to _Oroonoko_, whose +unseasonable Transport and Caress of _Imoinda_ was blamed by all Men +that loved him: and now he perceived his Fault, yet cry’d, _That for +such another Moment he would be content to die_. + +All the _Otan_ was in Disorder about this Accident; and _Onahal_ was +particularly concern’d, because on the Prince’s Stay depended her +Happiness; for she could no longer expect that of _Aboan_: 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 _Otan_, which was all of Oranges and +Citrons, and that there they would wait her Orders. + +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 +_Imoinda_ made a false Step on Purpose to fall into _Oroonoko’s_ 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. + +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 _Aboan_ along with him, he +leaves his Apartment, and was watched to the very Gate of the _Otan_; +where he was seen to enter, and where they left him, to carry back the +Tidings to the King. + +_Oroonoko_ and _Aboan_ were no sooner enter’d, but _Onahal_ led the +Prince to the Apartment of _Imoinda_; who, not knowing any thing of her +Happiness, was laid in Bed. But _Onahal_ only left him in her Chamber, +to make the best of his Opportunity, and took her dear _Aboan_ 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 +_Onahal_. + +The Prince softly waken’d _Imoinda_, 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. + +’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 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 _Royal Veil_. ’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. + +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 _Otan_, and unusual Voices of Men; at +which the Prince, starting from the Arms of the frighted _Imoinda_, 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 _Oroonoko_ 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 +_Oroonoko_, 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.’ + +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.’ + +At these Words they departed, and left the Prince to take a short and +sad Leave of his _Imoinda_; 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. 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; _Aboan_ and _Onahal_ both pleaded, and +both assured him of a Lye that should be well enough contrived to secure +_Imoinda_. So that at last, with a Heart sad as Death, dying Eyes, and +sighing Soul, _Oroonoko_ departed, and took his way to the Camp. + +It was not long after, the King in Person came to the _Otan_; where +beholding _Imoinda_, 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 _Onahal_, 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 _Imoinda’s_ 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 _Imoinda_ as a polluted thing wholly unfit for his +Embrace; nor would he resign her to his Grandson, because she had +received the _Royal Veil_: He therefore removes her from the _Otan_, +with _Onahal_; whom he put into safe Hands, with Order they should be +both sold off as Slaves to another Country, either _Christian_ or +_Heathen_, ’twas no Matter where. + +This cruel Sentence, worse than Death, they implor’d might be reversed; +but their Prayers were vain, and it was put in Execution accordingly, +and that with so much Secrecy, that none, either without or within the +_Otan_, knew any thing of their Absence, or their Destiny. + +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 +_Captain of the Clouds_ (as they call the unknown Power) would suffer a +better Consequence from so ill a Cause. He now begins to hold _Oroonoko_ +excused; and to say, he had reason for what he did. And now every body +could assure the King how passionately _Imoinda_ 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 _Imoinda_. 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 _Imoinda_ +did, but could not obtain that Honour. Seeing therefore it was certain +that _Oroonoko_ 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 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. + +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 _Oroonoko_; who, impatient of +Delay, ask’d a thousand Questions in a Breath, and all concerning +_Imoinda_. 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. _Oroonoko_ reply’d, with a deep Sigh, and a +languishing Voice,--_I am armed against their worst Efforts--For I know +they will tell me, +Imoinda+ is no more--And after that, you may spare +the rest._ 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 permit thee_--Then he told him the +Affliction the old King was in, for the Rashness he had committed in his +Cruelty to _Imoinda_; 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 would pursue; and that +Death, that common Revenger of all Injuries, would soon even the Account +between him and a feeble old Man. + +_Oroonoko_ 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. + +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: _Go_, +(continued he, sighing) _and divide it amongst you, and reap with Joy +what you so vainly prize, and leave me to my more welcome Destiny._ + +They then demanded what they should do, and whom he would constitute in +his Room, that the Confusion of 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 _Oroonoko_ 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. + +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 _Aboan_ 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 _Aboan’s_ 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 more like _Oroonoko_ 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 +_Jamoan_, that young Victor, who already is enter’d beyond the Limits I +have prescrib’d him.’ + +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 +_Oroonoko_ having the good Fortune to single out _Jamoan_, he took him +Prisoner with his own Hand, having wounded him almost to Death. + +This _Jamoan_ 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 +_Oroonoko_, and by a thousand Tales and Adventures of Love and +Gallantry, flatter’d his Disease of Melancholy and Languishment; which I +have often heard him say, had certainly kill’d him, but for the +Conversation of this Prince and _Aboan_, and the _French_ 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 _Frenchman_ 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. + +After the total Defeat of _Jamoan’s_ Army, which all fled, or were left +dead upon the Place, they spent some Time in the Camp; _Oroonoko_ +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 _Imoinda’s_ 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. + +_Oroonoko_ 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 _English_ Ship. + +The Master of it had often before been in these Countries, and was very +well known to _Oroonoko_, with whom he had traffick’d for Slaves, and +had us’d to do the same with his Predecessors. + +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 _Oroonoko_, who was more civiliz’d, according to the +_European_ Mode, than any other had been, and took more Delight in the +_White_ 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 _Oroonoko_ was extremely delighted; who met him on +the Shore, attended by his _French_ Governor, _Jamoan_, _Aboan_, and +about an Hundred of the noblest of the Youths 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. + +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 _Fore_ and _Aft_, 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. + +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 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. + +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 _Oroonoko_, 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 _Oroonoko_, 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 _Oroonoko_ 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. + +This was deliver’d to the still doubting Captain, who could not resolve +to trust a Heathen, he said, upon his Parole, a Man that had no Sense or +Notion of the God that he worshipp’d. _Oroonoko_ 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 GOD; +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 _Oroonoko_) 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 +GOD 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 _Gods_.’ 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. + +The Captain pondering and consulting what to do, it was concluded, that +nothing but _Oroonoko’s_ Liberty would encourage any of the rest to eat, +except the _Frenchman_, 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 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. + +This being resolved, to make the Obligation the greater, the Captain +himself went to _Oroonoko_; 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. + +_Oroonoko_, 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. + +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 _Imoinda_, and think this a Punishment due +to his Misfortune, in having left that noble Maid behind him, that fatal +Night, in the _Otan_, when he fled to the Camp. + +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 _Surinam_, a +Colony belonging to the King of _England_, 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 _Pickaninies_) 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. + +_Oroonoko_ 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 _English_ 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; _Farewel, Sir, ’tis worth my Sufferings to +gain so true a Knowledge, both of you, and of your Gods, by whom you +swear._ And desiring those that held him to forbear their Pains, and +telling ’em he would make no Resistance, he cry’d, _Come, my +Fellow-Slaves, let us descend, and see if we can meet with more Honour +and Honesty in the next World we shall touch upon._ 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. + +The Gentleman that bought him, was a young _Cornish_ Gentleman, whose +Name was _Trefry_; a Man of great Wit, and fine Learning, and was +carried into those Parts by the Lord ---- Governor, to manage all his +Affairs. He reflecting on the last Words of _Oroonoko_ 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 _English_, had a great Mind to be +enquiring into his Quality and Fortune; which, though _Oroonoko_ +endeavour’d to hide, by only confessing he was above the Rank of common +Slaves, _Trefry_ 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. + +_Trefry_ was a very good Mathematician, and a Linguist; could speak +_French_ and _Spanish_; 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 _Oroonoko_ so agreeably with his Art and Discourse, that he +was no less pleas’d with _Trefry_, 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 _Trefry_ +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, 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 _Trefry_ promised to take Care about the +enquiring after their Condition, and that he should have an Account +of ’em. + +Tho’, as _Oroonoko_ afterwards said, he had little Reason to credit the +Words of a _Backearary_; yet he knew not why, but he saw a kind of +Sincerity, and aweful Truth in the Face of _Trefry_; he saw Honesty in +his Eyes, and he found him wise and witty enough to understand Honour: +for it was one of his Maxims, _A Man of Wit could not be a Knave or +Villain_. + +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 _Oroonoko_ 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 _Trefry_ to +give him something more befitting a Slave, which he did, and took off +his Robes: Nevertheless, he shone thro’ all, and his _Osenbrigs_ (a sort +of brown _Holland_ 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 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. + +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. _Trefry_ gave _Oroonoko_ +that of _Cæsar_; which name will live in that Country as long as that +(scarce more) glorious one of the great _Roman_: for ’tis most evident +he wanted no Part of the personal Courage of that _Cæsar_, 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 _Dutch_, 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. _Trefry_, who design’d it, died before he +began it, and bemoan’d himself for not having undertook it in Time. + +For the future therefore I must call _Oroonoko Cæsar_; since by that +Name only he was known in our Western World, and by that Name he was +received on Shore at _Parham-House_, 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 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 _Negroes_ were. + +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 _Negroes_ 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, _Live, O King! +Long live, O King!_ and kissing his Feet, paid him even Divine Homage. + +Several _English_ Gentlemen were with him, and what Mr. _Trefry_ had +told ’em was here confirm’d; of which he himself before had no other +Witness than _Cæsar_ himself: But he was infinitely glad to find his +Grandeur confirmed by the Adoration of all the Slaves. + +_Cæsar_, 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 _English_ 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 _Grandee Captain_, their +_Prince_, to honour it with his Presence; which he did, and several +_English_ with him, where they all waited on him, some playing, others +dancing before him all the Time, according to the Manners of their +several Nations, and with unwearied Industry endeavouring to please and +delight him. + +While they sat at Meat, Mr. _Trefry_ told _Cæsar_, 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 _Love_ 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? _Trefry_, 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 _Clemene_, 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 (_reply’d the Prince_) that _Clemene_ 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 (_said +Trefry+_) 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 _Cæsar_ 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. + +The next Day, _Trefry_ ask’d _Cæsar_ 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: _But_ (says he) +_I would not wish you to approach; for I am sure you will be in Love as +soon as you behold her._ _Cæsar_ 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 _Imoinda_, he believed he should tear it +from his Bosom. They had no sooner spoke, but a little Shock-Dog, that +_Clemene_ 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 _Trefry_ caught her by the Hand, and cry’d, +Clemene, _however you fly a Lover, you ought to pay some Respect to this +Stranger_, (pointing to _Cæsar_.) 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. There needed no long gazing, or Consideration, to examine who +this fair Creature was; he soon saw _Imoinda_ 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 _Imoinda_ fall dead in the Hands of _Trefry_. 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. +_Cæsar_ swore he disdained the Empire of the World, while he could +behold his _Imoinda_; and she despised Grandeur and Pomp, those Vanities +of her Sex, when she could gaze on _Oroonoko_. 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 _Oroonoko_. + +_Trefry_ was infinitely pleased with this Novel, and found this +_Clemene_ was the fair Mistress of whom _Cæsar_ had before spoke; and +was not a little satisfy’d, that Heaven 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 _Parham-House_ (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 _Cæsar_, and from his own Mouth learned what I have +related; which was confirmed by his _Frenchman_, 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 _Parham-Hill_ to see and pay his +Respects to his Pupil Prince. So that concerning and interesting myself +in all that related to _Cæsar_, whom I had assured of Liberty as soon +as the Governour arrived, 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 _Cæsar_ 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 _Clemene_ was +_Imoinda_, we could not enough admire her. + +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 _Cæsar_; and those who are so carved over the Body, resemble our +antient _Picts_ that are figur’d in the Chronicles, but these Carvings +are more delicate. + +From that happy Day _Cæsar_ took _Clemene_ 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 conceived with Child, which made _Cæsar_ 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 _Trefrey_ +for his and _Clemene’s_ 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 _Cæsar_, and to give him all the Satisfaction +I possibly could: They knew he and _Clemene_ 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 +_Romans_, 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, _Cæsar_ 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, especially my self, whom he call’d his _Great Mistress_; 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 _Clemene_ 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 +_White_ People; and as for myself, and those upon that _Plantation_ +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 World afforded, +as Running, Wrestling, Pitching the Bar, Hunting and Fishing, Chasing +and Killing _Tygers_ of a monstrous Size, which this Continent affords +in abundance; and wonderful _Snakes_, such as _Alexander_ is reported to +have encounter’d at the River of _Amazons_, and which _Cæsar_ 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. + +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. + +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 _Negroes_; 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 _Cæsar_ 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. + +My Stay was to be short in that Country; because my Father dy’d at Sea, +and never arriv’d to possess the Honour design’d him, (which was +Lieutenant-General of six and thirty Islands, besides the Continent of +_Surinam_) nor the 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 _Dutch_. ’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 _China_, and another to _Peru_: It +affords all Things, both for Beauty and Use; ’tis there eternal Spring, +always the very Months of _April_, _May_, and _June_; 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 +_Armadillo_, a Thing which I can liken to nothing so well as a +_Rhinoceros_; ’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 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 _Cæsar_ in +our Company on these Designs, we fear’d no Harm, nor suffer’d any. + +As soon as I came into the Country, the best House in it was presented +me, call’d _St. John’s Hill_: 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 _Mall_ 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 _Italy_ 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 _English_ 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. + +Sometimes we would go surprising, and in Search of young _Tygers_ in +their Dens, watching when the old ones 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 _Cæsar_ was with us; who had no sooner stoln a +young _Tyger_ 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, _Cæsar_, and +an _English_ Gentleman, Brother to _Harry Martin_ the great _Oliverian_; +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 _Cæsar_ had not laid down her _Cub_, when he found the +_Tyger_ quit her Prey to make the more Speed towards him; and taking Mr. +_Martin’s_ Sword, desired him to stand aside, or follow the Ladies. He +obey’d him; and _Cæsar_ 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 _Tyger_, +who was laid in her Blood on the Ground. He took up the _Cub_, 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. + +Another time, being in the Woods, he kill’d a _Tyger_, 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. _Cæsar_ 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 _Cæsar_, without offering to +approach him, for Fear at the same Time of loosing what she had in +Possession: So that _Cæsar_ 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 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. _Cæsar_ 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 _Cæsar_ Occasion of many +fine Discourses of Accidents in War, and strange Escapes. + +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 +_Numb-Eel_, (an _Eel_ 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 _Eel_, 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 the Bait. _Cæsar_ 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 _Eel_, +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 _Indian_ 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, +_Eel_ and all. If _Cæsar_ 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 _Eel_, 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 _Eel_ 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. + +About this Time we were in many mortal Fears, about some Disputes the +_English_ had with the _Indians_; so that we could scarce trust our +selves, without great Numbers, to go to any _Indian_ Towns, or Place +where they abode, for fear they should fall upon us, as they did +immediately after my coming away; and the Place being in the Possession +of the _Dutch_, they us’d them not so civilly as the _English_; 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. + +This Feud began while I was there; so that I lost half the Satisfaction +I propos’d, in not seeing and visiting the _Indian_ Towns. But one Day, +bemoaning of our Misfortunes upon this Account, _Cæsar_ 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 _Indian_ +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 _Cæsar_ 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 _Indians_, as trading among ’em, and being, by long living +there, become a perfect _Indian_ in Colour, we, who had a Mind to +surprize ’em, by making them see something they never had seen, (that +is, _White_ People) resolv’d only my self, my Brother and Woman should +go: So _Cæsar_, 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 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 _Tepeeme_; 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) _Numberless Wonders_, 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 _Cæsar_, and the rest, saw we were receiv’d with such Wonder, +they came up to us; and finding the _Indian_ Trader whom they knew, (for +’tis by these Fishermen, call’d _Indian_ 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, _Oh, here’s our +Tiguamy+, and we shall know whether +those Things can speak._ So advancing to him, some of ’em gave him their +Hands, and cry’d, _Amora Tiguamy_; which is as much as, _How do you do?_ +or, _Welcome Friend_; 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 _Sarumbo_ 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 _Indian_ 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 +_Peeie_, that is, _Prophet_. They shewed us their _Indian Peeie_, 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 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 +_Peeie_ 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. _Cæsar_ 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 _Comitias_, 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 _Amora Tiguamy_ 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. _Cæsar_ was marvelling 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 +_Black_ Hero; nevertheless, he express’d his Esteem of ’em. + +In this Voyage _Cæsar_ begat so good an Understanding between the +_Indians_ and the _English_, 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 _Cæsar_ made it his Business to search out +and provide for our Entertainment, especially to please his dearly +ador’d _Imoinda_, 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. + +As we were coming up again, we met with some _Indians_ of strange +Aspects; that is, of a larger Size, and other sort of Features, than +those of our Country. Our _Indian Slaves_, that row’d us, ask’d ’em some +Questions; but they could not understand us, but shew’d us a long 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 _Parham_, 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 _Amazons_ (a River so call’d, almost as broad +as the River of _Thames_) and prohibited all People from going up that +River, it conducting to those Mountains or Gold. But we going off for +_England_ before the Project was further prosecuted, and the Governor +being drown’d in a Hurricane, either the Design died, or the _Dutch_ +have the Advantage of it: And ’tis to be bemoan’d what his Majesty lost, +by losing that Part of _America_. + +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. + +It was thus for some Time we diverted him; but now _Imoinda_ 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 _Cæsar_, and taking his Opportunity, one _Sunday_, when all the +_Whites_ were overtaken in Drink, as there were abundance of several +Trades, and _Slaves_ for four Years, that inhabited among the _Negro_ +Houses; and _Sunday_ being their Day of Debauch, (otherwise they were a +sort of Spies upon _Cæsar_) 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 _Negroes_, 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 _English_ +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 _England_, 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 +_Negroes_ and _Indians_ are perfect Masters of. + +_Cæsar_, 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 _Black Friday_; 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; +Blood, whose every Drop ought to be revenged with a Life of some of +those Tyrants that impose it. ‘And why (_said he_) 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?’ _They all reply’d with one Accord_, ‘No, No, No; _Cæsar_ +has spoke like a great Captain, like a great King.’ + +After this he would have proceeded, but was interrupted by a tall +_Negro_, of some more Quality than the rest, his Name was _Tuscan_; who +bowing at the Feet of _Cæsar_, 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,’--_To this +Cæsar+ reply’d_, ‘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 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.’ + +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 _Hannibal_, 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. + +_Tuscan_ 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. + +They bow’d and kiss’d his Feet at this Resolution, and with one Accord +vow’d to follow him to Death; and that 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 _Cæsar_ made a new encouraging Speech to ’em +and led ’em out. + +But as they could not march far that Night, on _Monday_ 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 _Cæsar_, and +all Hands were against the _Parhamites_ (as they called those of +_Parham-Plantation_) because they did not in the first Place love the +Lord-Governor; and secondly, they would have it that _Cæsar_ 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. The Deputy-Governor, 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 _Cæsar_, was now the only +violent Man against him; and though he had nothing, 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 _Cæsar_, or rather to +pursue him. Most of their Arms were of those Sort of cruel Whips they +call _Cat with nine Tails_; 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. _Trefry_ 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 _Negroes_ 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 _Byam_ was one that +abounded in his own Wit, and would take his own Measures. + +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 _Cæsar_ 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 _Tuscan_ 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 _English_, 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 _English_ cry out, _Yield and Live! Yield, and be Pardon’d!_ +they all ran in amongst their Husbands and Fathers, and hung about them, +crying out, _Yield! Yield, and leave +Cæsar+ to their Revenge_; that by +Degrees the Slaves abandon’d _Cæsar_, and left him only _Tuscan_ and his +Heroick _Imoinda_, 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 _Indian_ 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 _Cæsar_, who he found was resolved to die fighting, and +would not be taken; no more would _Tuscan_ or _Imoinda_. 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 _Cæsar_ 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 +(_continued he_) 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 _Cæsar_ would hear of no Composition; +though _Byam_ 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 _Cæsar_ 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 _Byam_, He had rather die, than live upon the same +Earth with such Dogs. But _Trefry_ and _Byam_ pleaded and protested +together so much, that _Trefry_ believing the Governor to mean what he +said, and speaking very cordially himself, generously put himself into +_Cæsar’s_ Hands, and took him aside, and persuaded him, even with Tears, +to live, by surrendring himself, and to name his Conditions. _Cæsar_ was +overcome by his Wit and Reasons, and in Consideration of _Imoinda_; and +demanding what he desired, and that it should be ratify’d by their Hands +in Writing, because he had perceived that was the common Way of Contract +between Man and Man amongst the Whites; all this was performed, and +_Tuscan’s_ 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. _Cæsar_ 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 +_Tuscan_ performed alone; and gave their Enemies a fatal Proof, that +they durst do any Thing, and fear’d no mortal Force. + +But they were no sooner arrived at the Place where all the Slaves +receive their Punishments of Whipping, but they laid Hands on _Cæsar_ +and _Tuscan_, 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 _Cæsar_, 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. + +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 _Indian_ 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 _Imoinda_, and did not let her see this +Barbarity committed towards her Lord, but carried her down to _Parham_, +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. + +You must know, that when the News was brought on _Monday_ Morning, that +_Cæsar_ had betaken himself to the Woods, and carry’d with him all the +_Negroes_, 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 _Cæsar_ was +taken and whipped liked a common Slave. We met on the River with Colonel +_Martin_, a Man of great Gallantry, Wit, and Goodness, and whom I have +celebrated in a Character of my new Comedy, 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 _Cæsar_, and resented this false Dealing with him very much. +We carried him back to _Parham_, thinking to have made an Accommodation; +when he came, the first News we heard, was, That the Governor was dead +of a Wound _Imoinda_ had given him; but it was not so well. But it +seems, he would have the Pleasure of beholding the Revenge he took on +_Cæsar_; 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 _Indian_ Mistress healed by sucking the +Wound. + +We were no sooner arrived, but we went up to the Plantation to see +_Cæsar_; whom we found in a very miserable 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 _Byam_; as for _Trefry_, 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 _Byam_, 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, _It had been +well for him, if he had sacrificed me, instead of giving me the +comtemptible Whip._ 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 _Martin_, and always took his +Counsel like that of a Parent; and assured him, he would obey him in any +Thing but his Revenge on _Byam_: ‘Therefore (_said he_) for his own +Safety, let him speedly 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 _Oroonoko_ scorns to live with the Indignity that +was put on _Cæsar_.’ 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 to visit him every Day, and to that End had him +brought to an Apartment at _Parham_. + +The Governor had no sooner recover’d, and had heard of the Menaces of +_Cæsar_, but he called his Council, who (not to disgrace them, or +burlesque the Government there) consisted of such notorious Villains as +_Newgate_ 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 _Dutch_ 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 _Cæsar_ ought to be made an +Example to all the _Negroes_, 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, _nemine contradicente_, That _Cæsar_ +should be hanged. + +_Trefry_ then thought it Time to use his Authority, and told _Byam_, his +Command did not extend to his Lord’s Plantation; and that _Parham_ was +as much exempt from the Law as _White-Hall_; 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 _Parham_ +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 _Byam_ was Lieutenant to his Lord, he +might exercise his Tyranny upon. _Trefry_ had others as powerful, or +more, that interested themselves in _Cæsar’s_ Life, and absolutely said, +he should be defended. So turning the Governor, and his wise Council, +out of Doors, (for they sat at _Parham-House_) we set a Guard upon our +Lodging-Place, and would admit none but those we called Friends to us +and _Cæsar_. + +The Governor having remain’d wounded at _Parham_, till his Recovery was +completed, _Cæsar_ 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 +_Cæsar_: So that _Cæsar_ 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 _English_ 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 _Imoinda_ 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 _Imoinda_ a Prey, or at +best a Slave to the enraged Multitude; his great Heart could not endure +that Thought: _Perhaps_ (said he) _she may be first ravish’d by every +Brute; expos’d first to their nasty Lusts, and then a shameful Death_: +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 _Byam_, 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 thought it brave and just. Being able to walk, and, as he +believed, fit for the Execution of his great Design, he begg’d _Trefry_ +to trust him into the Air, believing a Walk would do him good; which was +granted him; and taking _Imoinda_ 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. + +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 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 +_Imoinda_. 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 _Imoinda_ 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. + +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 _Imoinda_ +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 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. + +In all this time you may believe we were in no little Affliction for +_Cæsar_ 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 +_Tuscan_, who was perfectly reconciled to _Byam_: 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 _Cæsar_ 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 _Cæsar_ 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 dead Body, sighing, +cry’d, _Behold her there._ They put off the Flowers that cover’d her, +with their Sticks, and found she was kill’d, and cry’d out, _Oh, +Monster! that hast murder’d thy Wife._ 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 (_continued he_) 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 _English_ taking Advantage by his Weakness, cry’d, _Let us +take him alive by all Means._ 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 _Cæsars_ 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, _Who will venture +on this single Man? Will nobody?_ They stood all silent, while _Cæsar_ +replied, _Fatal will be the Attempt of the first Adventurer, let him +assure himself_, (and, at that Word, held up his Knife in a menacing +Posture:) _Look ye, ye faithless Crew_, said he, _’tis not Life I seek, +nor am I afraid of dying_, (and at that Word, cut a Piece of Flesh from +his own Throat, and threw it at ’em) _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._ 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, _Will none venture on him?_ A +bold _Englishman_ cry’d, _Yes, if he were the Devil_, (taking Courage +when he saw him almost dead) and swearing a horrid Oath for his farewel +to the World, he rush’d on him. _Cæsar_ with his arm’d Hand, met him so +fairly, as stuck him to the Heart, and he Fell dead at his feet. +_Tuscan_ seeing that, cry’d out, _I love thee, O +Cæsar+! and therefore +will not let thee die, if possible_; and running to him, took him in his +Arms; but, at the same time, warding a Blow that _Cæsar_ made at his +Bosom, he receiv’d it quite through his Arm; and _Cæsar_ having not +Strength to pluck the Knife forth, tho’ he attempted it, _Tuscan_ +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 _Cæsar_ between six of ’em, fainting as he was, and +they thought dead, or just dying; and they brought him to _Parham_, 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 _Indies_; unless Wounds in the Legs, +which they rarely ever cure. + +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 not think so poorly of him, or of his Love to _Imoinda_, 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 +_Cæsar_) 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 _Trefry_, and the +Chirurgeons, promis’d all to take what possible Care they could of the +Life of _Cæsar_; and I, taking Boat, went with other Company to Colonel +_Martin’s_, about three Days Journey down the River. But I was no sooner +gone, than the Governor taking _Trefry_, about some pretended earnest +Business, a Day’s Journey up the River, having communicated his Design +to one _Banister_, a wild _Irish_ Man, one of the Council, a Fellow of +absolute Barbarity, and fit to execute any Villany, but rich; he came up +to _Parham_, and forcibly took _Cæsar_, 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. +_Cæsar_ replied, This was the first piece of Bravery that ever +_Banister_ 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 _Whites_, that ever he heard speak Truth. +And turning to the Men that had bound him, he said, _My Friends, am I to +die, or to be whipt?_ And they cry’d, _Whipt! no, you shall not escape +so well._ And then he reply’d, smiling, _A Blessing on thee_; 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: _But if you +whip me_ (said he) _be sure you tie me fast_. + +He had learn’d to take Tobacco; and when he was assur’d he should die, +he desir’d they would give him a 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 _Cæsar_ into +Quarters, and sent them to several of the chief Plantations: One Quarter +was sent to Colonel _Martin_; who refus’d it, and swore, he had rather +see the Quarters of _Banister_, and the Governor himself, than those of +_Cæsar_, on his Plantations; and that he could govern his _Negroes_, +without terrifying and grieving them with frightful Spectacles of a +mangled King. + + +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 _Imoinda_. + + + + +NOTES: Oroonoko. + + +p. 509 _Appendix. Oronooko: Epistle Dedicatory._ 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 _A Memorial on +the Estate of Scotland_ (about 1690), printed in Hooke’s +_Correspondence_ (Roxburghe Club), and there wrongly ascribed to the +third Earl, his father. + +The Dedication only occurs in the first edition of _Oronooko_ (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. 130 _I gave ’em to the King’s Theatre._ Sir Robert Howard and +Dryden’s heroic tragedy, _The Indian Queen_, 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 _The Indian Queen_, which for show, they say, exceeds +_Henry VIII_.’ On 1 February he himself found it ‘indeed a most pleasant +show’. The grandeur of the _mise en scène_ 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[5] in the true costume of a Carib belle’, +a quite unfair deduction from Mrs. Behn’s words. + +p. 168 _Osenbrigs._ More usually ‘osnaburg’, so named from Osnabrück in +North Germany, a kind of coarse linen made in this town. Narborough’s +Journal, 1669 (_An Account of Several Late Voyages_, 1694), speaks of +‘Cloth, Osenbrigs, Tobacco’. cf. _Pennsylvania Col. Records_ (1732): +‘That to each there be given a couple of Shirts, a Jackett, two pairs of +trowsers of Oznabrigs.’ + +p. 174 _as soon as the Governour arrived_. 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 Barbadoes, 10 August, 1663. +About the end of July, 1666, he was lost at sea on board the good ship +_Hope_. + +p. 177 _my Father . . . never arriv’d to possess the Honour design’d +him._ 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. 180 _Brother to Harry Martin the great Oliverian._ Henry, or Harry, +and George Marten were the two sons of Sir Henry Marten (_ob._ 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. + +p. 193 _The Deputy Governor._ 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. 198 _my new Comedy. The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt_, +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. 200 _his Council_. In _The Widow Ranter_ Mrs. Behn draws a vivid +picture of these deboshed ruffians. + +p. 207 _one Banister_. 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. + + [Footnote 5: Nell Gwynne had no part in the play.] + + +Cross-Reference from Critical Notes: _Oroonoko_ + +Note to p. 180: For the elder brother, Henry Marten, (1602-80), see note +Vol. I, p. 457. + + Vol. I, p. 457 note (referring to _The Roundheads_, V, ii): + + p. 414 _Peters the first_, _Martin the Second_. 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, 1681, aged seventy-eight. He was + notorious for profligacy and shamelessness, and kept a very seraglio + of mistresses. [[The date “1681” is in the original.]] + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +AGNES DE CASTRO. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +The ‘sweet sentimental tragedy’ of Agnes de Castro was founded by Mrs. +Behn upon a work by Mlle S. B. de Brillac, _Agnès de Castro, nouvelle +portugaise_ (1688), and various subsequent editions. In the same year +(1688) as Mrs. Behn’s _Agnes de Castro; or, The Force of Generous Blood_ +was published there appeared ‘Two New Novels, i. _The Art of Making +Love_.[1] ii. _The Fatal Beauty of Agnes de Castro_: Taken out of the +History of Portugal. Translated from the French by P. B. G.[2] 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. + +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. + +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 _Bibliographia Inesiana_ was published +in 1897. Mrs. Behn’s novel was immensely popular and is included, with +some unnecessary moral observations as preface, in Mrs. Griffith’s _A +Collection of Novels_ (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 +aimable blue-stocking who devoted her life wholly to literature, and +translated freely from English. This work is to be found in _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_, (Amsterdam, 1761.) It occurs again in _Mélanges de +Litterature_ (12mo, 1775, etc.), Vol. VI. + +A tragedy, _Agnes de Castro_, 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 _Elvira_ (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, _Inez, a tragedy_ +(1796), and _Ignez de Castro_, a tragedy in verse, intended for _Hoad’s +Magazine_ call for no comment. + +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, _Inez de Castro_, tragedia, Milano, 1826. + +In Spanish and Portuguese there are, of course, innumerable poems, +treaties, tragedies, studies, romances. Lope de Vega wrote _Dona Inez de +Castro_, and the beautiful episode of Camoens is deservedly famous. +Antonio Ferreira’s splendid tragedy is well known. First published in +_Comedias Famosas dos Doctores de Sa de Mirande_ (4to, 1622), it can +also be read in _Poemas lusitanos_ (2 Vols., 8vo, Lisbon, 1771). Domingo +dos Reis Quita wrote a drama, _Ignez de Castro_, a translation of which, +by Benjamin Thompson, was published in 1800. There is also a play _Dona +Ignez de Castro_, by Nicolas Luiz, which was Englished by John Adamson, +whose version was printed at Newcastle, 1808. + + [Footnote 1: Mr. Arundell Esdaile in his _Bibliography of Fiction_ + (_printed before 1740_) erroneously identifies this amusing little + piece with Mrs. Behn’s _The Lover’s Watch_. It is, however, quite + another thing, dealing with a pseudo-Turkish language of love.] + + [Footnote 2: i.e., Peter Bellon, Gent. Bellon was an assiduous + hackney writer and translator of the day. He has also left one + comedy, _The Mock Duellist; or, The French Valet_ (4to, 1675).] + + + + +THE HISTORY OF _AGNES de CASTRO_. + + +Tho’ 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. + +Many Examples of past Ages render this Maxim certain; but the Reign of +_Don Alphonso_ the IVth, King of _Portugal_, furnishes us with one, the +most extraordinary that History can produce. + +He was the Son of that _Don Denis_, 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 _Isabella_, 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. + +And to advance this his Design, he agreed on a Marriage between his Son +_Don Pedro_ (then about eight Years of Age) and _Bianca_, Daughter of +_Don Pedro_, King of _Castile_; and whom the young Prince married when +he arriv’d to his sixteenth Year. + +_Bianca_ brought nothing to _Coimbra_ but Infirmities and very few +Charms. _Don Pedro_, 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 +Princess conceal’d her Languishment in a solitary Retreat: And _Don +Pedro_, for whom they had provided another Match, married _Constantia +Manuel_, Daughter of _Don John Manuel_, a Prince of the Blood of +_Castile_, and famous for the Enmity he had to his King. + +_Constantia_ was promised to the King of _Castile_; 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 _Spain_ 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. + +The Princess _Constantia_ 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 _Don Pedro_, 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. + +_Constantia_ brought into the World, the first Year after her Marriage, +a Son, who was called _Don Louis_: 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 +_Portugal_, 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. + +At first she fancy’d her self deceiv’d, but time having confirmed her in +what she fear’d, she sighed in secret; yet had that Consideration for +the Prince, as not to let him see her Disorder: and which nevertheless +she could not conceal from _Agnes de Castro_, who lived with her, rather +as a Companion, than a Maid of Honour, and whom her Friendship made her +infinitely distinguish from the rest. + +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 _Constantia_ 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 +_Portugal_. It was into the Bosom of this Maid, that the Princess +unladed her first Moans; and the charming _Agnes_ forgot nothing that +might give ease to her afflicted Heart. + +Nor was _Constantia_ the only Person who complained of _Don Pedro_: +Before his Divorce from _Bianca_, he had expressed some Care and +Tenderness for _Elvira Gonzales_, Sister to Don _Alvaro Gonzales_, +Favourite to the King of _Portugal_; and this Amusement in the young +Years of the Prince, had made a deep Impression on _Elvira_, who +flatter’d her Ambition with the Infirmities of _Bianca_. She saw, with a +secret Rage, _Constantia_ take her place, who was possest with such +Charms, that quite divested her of all Hopes. + +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. + +The Prince languished, and concealed the Cause with so much Care, that +’twas impossible for any to find it out. 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. + +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. + +But Time ran on, and the Princess was brought to bed of a second Son, +who liv’d, and was called _Fernando_. _Don Pedro_ 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. + +The artful _Elvira_ 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 +_Coimbra_, she found the Prince of _Portugal_ sleeping in an obscure +Grotto. + +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, _Yes, Divine +Agnes+, I will sooner die than let you +know it: +Constantia+ shall have nothing to reproach me with._ _Elvira_ +was enraged at this Discourse, which represented to her immediately, the +same moment, _Agnes de Castro_ with all her Charms; and not at all +doubting, but it was she who possest the Heart of _Don Pedro_, she found +in her Soul more Hatred for this fair Rival, than Tenderness for him. + +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 +she 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. + +When she was retired to her Apartment, she open’d the Paper, trembling, +and found in it these Verses, writ by the Hand of _Don Pedro_; and +which, in appearance, he had newly then compos’d. + + _In vain, Oh! Sacred Honour, you debate + The mighty Business in my Heart: + Love! Charming Love! rules all my Fate; + Interest and Glory claim no part. + The God, sure of his Victory, triumphs there, + And will have nothing in his Empire share._ + + _In vain, Oh! Sacred Duty, you oppose; + In vain, your Nuptial Tye you plead: + Those forc’d Devoirs LOVE overthrows, + And breaks the Vows he never made. + Fixing his fatal Arrows every where, + I burn and languish in a soft Despair._ + + _Fair Princess, you to whom my Faith is due; + Pardon the Destiny that drags me on: + ’Tis not my fault my Heart’s untrue, + I am compell’d to be undone. + My Life is yours, I gave it with my Hand, + But my Fidelity I can’t command._ + +_Elvira_ did not only know the Writing of _Don Pedro_, but she knew also +that he could write Verses. And seeing the sad Part which _Constantia_ +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 _Constantia_ to know that the Prince did not +love her, but that she must know also that he was a Slave to _Agnes de +Castro_, _Elvira_ caused these few Verses to be written in an unknown +Hand, under those writ by the Prince. + + _Sleep betrayed th’ unhappy Lover, + While Tears were streaming from his Eyes; + His heedless Tongue without disguise, + The Secret did discover: + The Language of his Heart declare, + That +Agnes’+ Image triumphs there._ + +_Elvira_ regarded neither Exactness nor Grace in these Lines: And if +they had but the effect she design’d, she wished no more. + +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. + +As soon as _Constantia_ 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 _Agnes de Castro_ (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. + +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 enter’d the Palace, all troubled +with his Loss; and hastily going into _Constantia’s_ 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. + +He immediately turned pale at this sight, and appear’d so mov’d, that +the generous Princess felt more Pain than he did: ‘Madam, _said he_, +(infinitely alarm’d) from whom had you that Paper? It cannot come but +from the Hand of some Person, _answer’d_ 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.’ + +The Moderation and Calmness of _Constantia_, served only to render the +Prince more asham’d and confus’d. _How generous are you, Madam_, +(pursu’d he) _and how unfortunate am 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. _Constantia_ then broke silence, and shewing him what _Elvira_ had +caus’d to be written: _You are betray’d, Sir_, (added she) _you have +been heard speak, and your Secret is known._ 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 +_Agnes_. And tho’ he was convinced of the Virtue and Goodness of +_Constantia_, the Apprehensions that he had, that this modest and +prudent Maid might suffer by his Conduct, carry’d him beyond all +Consideration. + +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 obliging manner to him, she said, +‘I promise you, Sir, I will never more complain of you, and that _Agnes_ +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.’ _Don Pedro_, more +confus’d and dejected than before he had been, bent one of his Knees at +the feet of _Constantia_, and with respect kiss’d that fair kind Hand +she had given him, and perhaps forgot _Agnes_ for a moment. + +But Love soon put a stop to all the little Advances of _Hymen_; the +fatal Star that presided over the Destiny of _Don Pedro_ had not yet +vented its Malignity; and one moment’s sight of _Agnes_ gave new Force +to his Passion. + +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. + +As she was never far from _Constantia_, _Don Pedro_ was no sooner gone +out of the Closet, but _Agnes_ 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, _said she_, by all your Goodness, conceal not from me +the Cause of your Trouble. Alas, _Agnes_, _reply’d the Princess_, 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! (_reply’d +Agnes+, with an +Astonishment mix’d with Indignation_) 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, +(_interrupted_ Constantia) he does what he can; and I am more oblig’d 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, (_cry’d out +Agnes+, transported with +her Tenderness for the Princess_) he is a blind and stupid Prince, who +knows not the precious Advantages he possesses. He must surely know +something, (_reply’d the Princess modestly._) But, Madam, (_reply’d ++Agnes+_) Is there any thing, not only in _Portugal_, but in all +_Spain_, that can compare with you? And without considering the charming +Qualities of your Person, can we enough admire those of your Soul? My +dear _Agnes_, (_interrupted +Constantia+, sighing_) 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, _Agnes_, 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.’ + +The delicate _Agnes_ 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 _Constantia_, ‘What say you, Madam? (_cry’d she_) 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 a +Tryal. And if I were that odious Person, there is no Punishment, to +which I would not condemn my self. It is _Elvira_, Madam, the Prince +loves, and loved before his Marriage with you, and also before his +Divorce from _Bianca_; and somebody has made an indiscreet Report to you +of this Intrigue of his Youth: But, Madam, what was in the time of +_Bianca_, is nothing to you. It is certain that _Don Pedro_ loves you, +(_answer’d the Princess_) 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 _Don Pedro_ has not disown’d it. What, +(_interrupted +Agnes+, more surpriz’d than ever_) 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. + +While they were both thus sadly employ’d, both sighing, and both +weeping, the impatient _Elvira_, 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 _Constantia_ +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 _Agnes_, +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. _Elvira_ then went out of the +Cabinet, and _Agnes de Castro_ withdrew at the same time. + +It was in her own Chamber, that _Agnes_ examining more freely this +Adventure, found it as cruel as Death. She loved _Constantia_ sincerely, +and had not till then any thing more than an Esteem, mixt with +Admiration, for the Prince of _Portugal_; 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 +_Constantia_ for all the Griefs she made her suffer. + +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 +_Constantia’s_ 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. + +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 _Agnes_. + +While these three disconsolate Persons abandon’d themselves to their +Melancholy, _Elvira_, 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 _Don Pedro_ to _Agnes de Castro_ +would not be approved by the King, she acquainted _Don Alvaro_ 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 _Agnes_; which the +Business of his Fortune had hitherto hindred him from discovering: and +he expected a great many Favours from the King, that might render the +Effort of his Heart the more considerable. + +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 +_Agnes_ Sovereign of all the Hearts to which she had a pretension. + +_Don Alvaro_ 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 _Don Alvaro_; who when he +knew the Prince was his Rival, his Jealousy increas’d his Hate of him: +and he conjured _Elvira_ 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. + +_Don Alvaro_, who had too lively a Representation within himself, of the +Beauties and Grace of the Prince of _Portugal_, 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 _Don Pedro_ had all +the Advantages that one Man may possibly have over another. In fine, all +that _Don Alvaro_ wanted, adorn’d the Prince: but as he was the Husband +of _Constantia_, and depended upon an absolute Father, and that _Don +Alvaro_ was free, and Master of a good Fortune, he thought himself more +assur’d of _Agnes_, and fixed his Hopes on that Thought. + +He knew very well, that the Passion of _Don Pedro_ 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 +besought the King to interest himself in his amorous Affair, and to be +the Protector of his Person. + +Tho’ _Don Alvaro_ 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 _Agnes_. + +_Don Alvaro_, perfectly skilful in managing his Master, answer’d the +King’s last Bounties with a profound Submission. He had yet never told +_Agnes_ what he felt for her; but he thought now he might make a publick +Declaration of it, and sought all means to do it. + +The Gallantry which _Coimbra_ seem’d to have forgotten, began now to be +awakened. The King to please _Don Alvaro_, under pretence of diverting +_Constantia_, order’d some publick Sports, and commanded that every +thing should be magnificent. + +Since the Adventure of the Verses, _Don Pedro_ 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 _Agnes_, he took those of his Wife, without Device, or +any great Magnificence. + +_Don Pedro_ adorn’d himself with the Liveries of _Agnes de Castro_; 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. + +_Don Pedro_ appear’d in the List with an admirable Grace; and _Don +Alvaro_, 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 _Agnes_; +and 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 _A’s_; his Device was a Love coming out of a Cloud, with these +Verses written underneath: + + _Love from a Cloud breaks like the God of Day, + And to the World his Glories does display; + To gaze on charming Eyes, and make ’em know, + What to soft Hearts, and to his Power they owe._ + +The Pride of _Don Alvaro_ was soon humbled at the feet of the Prince of +_Portugal_, 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 _Constantia’s_, where _Agnes_ would not have been, unless +expresly 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 _Don Alvaro_, +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. + +She treated him not uncivilly, but her Coldness would have rebated the +Courage of any but _Alvaro_. ‘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 _Agnes_ 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 for me (reply’d _Don Alvaro_) and if you have not found me out to +be your Lover to-day, I fear you will never approve my Passion.’ + +‘Oh! what a time have you chosen to make it appear to me? (pursued +_Agnes_.) 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.’ + +The Favourite of the King was too proud to hear _Agnes_, 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 _Don Pedro_, (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.’ + +They were interrupted here, but from that day, _Don Alvaro_, who had +open’d the first Difficulties, kept no more his wonted Distance, but +perpetually persecuted _Agnes_; yet, tho’ he were protected by the King, +that inspir’d in her never the more Consideration for him. _Don Pedro_ +was always ignorant by what means the Verses he had lost in the Garden, +fell into the hands of _Constantia_. As the Princess appeared to him +indulgent, he was only concerned for _Agnes_; and the love of _Don +Alvaro_, 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 of his Passion, but he thought not +at all of _Elvira_, nor apprehended any Malice from her Resentment. + +While she burnt with a Desire of destroying _Agnes_, 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 _Agnes_ made +any returns to the Tenderness of the Prince, yet that was the Cause of +_Constantia’s_ Grief: And, that if this Princess should die of it, _Don +Pedro_ might marry _Agnes_. In fine, she so incens’d the jealous _Don +Alvaro’s_ 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 _Alvaro_, 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 _Agnes_.’ + +_Don Alvaro_ pleas’d, and vain with his Master’s Bounty, made use of all +the Authority he gave him: He passionately lov’d _Agnes_, 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. + +While _Agnes de Castro_ (importun’d by his Assiduities, despairing at +the Grief of _Constantia_, and perhaps made tender by those she had +caus’d in the Prince of _Portugal_) took a Resolution worthy of her +Virtue; yet, amiable as _Don Pedro_ was, she found nothing in him, but +his being Husband to _Constantia_, 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 _Coimbra_. The Passion of _Don Alvaro_, which she +had no inclination 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 _Constantia_, with a trouble, which all +her Care was not able to hide from her. + +The Princess easily found it out; and their common Misfortunes having +not chang’d their Friendship--‘What ails you, _Agnes_? (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 +_Agnes_, 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.’ + +_Constantia_ was so surpriz’d and touch’d with the Proposition of +_Agnes_, 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 +_Agnes_, 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 _Agnes_, leave me; and expose me to the +Griefs of seeing you no more? Alas, Madam, (interrupted this lovely +Maid) hide from the unhappy _Agnes_ 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 +_Coimbra_; 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 _Constantia_) and you may remain 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 _Agnes_, +sadly) and I shall be sufficiently guilty, if my Presence cause +Sentiments, which cannot be innocent. Besides, Madam, the Importunities +of _Don Alvaro_ 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 _Don +Alvaro_, 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 _Don +Alvaro_, _Don Pedro_ 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 +_Don Pedro_? 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.’ + +Tho’ _Agnes_ thought she had perfectly known _Constantia_, 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 _Constantia_) I’ll do nothing but what you’ll +have me: But consider, and weigh well the Reasons that ought to counsel +you in the Measures you oblige me to take.’ + +_Don Pedro_, 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 _Constantia_, _Agnes_ too wise, and +too scrupulous, fears the Effects of her Beauty, and will live no longer +at _Coimbra_; 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, ‘_Agnes_ +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 _Agnes_, if my Satisfaction did not only +depend on your Conversation, I should desire it of you, for _Don +Pedro’s_ 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 _Agnes_) 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 +_Constantia_) 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 _Agnes_) Well--I will obey, but just Heaven +(pursued she) if they prove fatal, do not punish an innocent Heart for +it.’ Thus this Conversation ended. _Agnes_ withdrew into her Chamber, +but it was not to be more at ease. + +What _Don Pedro_ had learn’d of the Design of _Agnes_, caus’d a cruel +Agitation in his Soul; he wished he had never loved her, and desir’d a +thousand times to die: But 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 _Agnes_, his Tenderness had not force enough to +consent to it. + +After having, for a long time, combated with himself, he determined to +do what was impossible for him to let _Agnes_ 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 _Don John Emanuel_, 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. + +_Agnes_ saw him part without any Concern, but it was not upon the +account of any Aversion she had to him. _Don Alvaro_ began then to make +his Importunity an open Persecution; he forgot nothing that might touch +the insensible _Agnes_, 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. + +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 _Agnes_, 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. + +The King had not yet spoken to _Agnes_ in favour of _Don Alvaro_; 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 _Don Alvaro_ 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 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.’ + +The Heart of _Agnes_ was so little disposed to give it self to _Don +Alvaro_, that all the King of _Portugal_ had said had no effect on her +in his favour. ‘If _Don Alvaro_, 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 _Don Pedro_? 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 _Constantia_, he should never be your Husband; +renounce then those vain Ideas, which will cure him, and justify you.’ + +The courageous _Agnes_ 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 blinded and possest by _Don Alvaro_, 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 _Don Pedro_ 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 _Coimbra_ 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. + +The King was now more strongly convinc’d than ever, that she favour’d +the Passion of _Don Pedro_, and immediately went to _Constantia_, 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 _Don Alvaro’s_ 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 _Don Alvaro_, I must do by force, what I +cannot otherwise hope from the proud and cruel _Agnes_. 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. + +_Don Alvaro_, 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 _Agnes_. + +_Don Pedro_ had been about three Months absent, when _Alvaro_ 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. + +One Night, when the said _Agnes_, 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 _Coimbra_, without being hinder’d by any Obstacle. She knew +not of whom to complain, nor whom to suspect: _Don Alvaro_ 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. + +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 imploring the Protection of Heaven, and abandon’d herself to +its Conduct. + +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 _Don Alvaro_: but when he +approached more near, they found it was the Prince of _Portugal_ who was +at the head of ’em, and who, without foreseeing the occasion that would +offer it self of serving _Agnes_, was returning to _Coimbra_ full of her +Idea, after having performed what he ought in this Expedition. + +_Agnes_, 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 _Agnes_ 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 _Constantia_, whose +only Pleasure you are! replied he: What Opinion have you of _Don Pedro_? +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. + +During this, _Agnes_ was no less confus’d than before; she admir’d the +Conduct of her Destiny, that brought the 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. + +While the Prince’s Men were pursuing the Ravishers of _Agnes_, 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 _Agnes_, more concern’d at this Discourse than at the Enterprize +of _Don Alvaro_, 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 _Don Alvaro_ 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.’ ‘You will do for _Constantia_, 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.’ + +The modest _Agnes_, 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 _Don Alvaro_, 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. + +Afterwards they conducted _Agnes_ back to _Coimbra_, 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, _Constantia_ made her +Complaint to the King, who regarded her not at all. + +‘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.’ + +The generous Princess took _Agnes’s_ part with a great deal of Courage, +and was then disputing her defence with the King, when _Don Pedro_ +arrived at _Coimbra_. + +The first Object that met the Prince’s Eyes was _Don Alvaro_, 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 +_Don Pedro_ rage; but that of the Princess and _Agnes_ caus’d in +_Alvaro_ another sort of Emotion: He easily divin’d, that it was _Don +Pedro_, who had taken her from his Men, and, if his Fury had acted what +it would, it might have produc’d very sad effects. + +‘_Don Alvaro_, 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 _Don Alvaro_, (with an Insolence that had like to have put the +Prince past all patience) ‘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.’ + +_Don Pedro_ went away at these Words, and left _Alvaro_ 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. + +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 _Agnes_, as if it had been +the greatest of Crimes. + +_Elvira_, whom the sweetness of Hope flatter’d some moments, saw the +return of _Agnes_ with a sensible Displeasure, which suffer’d her to +think of nothing but irritating her Brother. + +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 _Agnes de Castro_, 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, +when the least of your Orders had been sufficient? _Agnes_ would +willingly have obey’d you; and if she continue at _Coimbra_, it is +perhaps against her Will: but be it as it will, Sir, _Constantia_ 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 _Constantia_ 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 _Agnes_, (with a +Tone very severe.) Content your self, that I pardon what’s past, and +think maturely of the Considerations I have for _Don Alvaro_, when you +would design any thing against him.’ ‘Yes, Sir, replied the Prince with +fierceness, I will speak to you no more of _Agnes_; but _Constantia_ 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 _Don Pedro_) and go make Reflections +on what my Power can do, and what you owe me.’ + +During this Conversation, _Agnes_ was receiving from the Princess, and +from all the Ladies of the Court, great Expressions of Joy and +Friendship: _Constantia_ saw again her Husband, with a great deal of +satisfaction: and far from being sorry at what he had lately done for +_Agnes_, 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. + +_Don Alvaro_, 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 _Agnes_ out of his Heart, seeing +that his Disease was incurable, she made him understand, that so long as +_Constantia_ should not be jealous, there were no hopes: That if _Agnes_ +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 _Constantia’s_ 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 _Don +Alvaro_ to manage well the King. + +Four Years were pass’d in that melancholy Station, and the Princess, +besides her first dead Child, and _Ferdinando_, who was still living, +had brought two Daughters into the World. + +Some days after _Don Pedro’s_ return, _Elvira_, who was most dextrous in +the Art of well-governing any wicked Design, did gain one of the +Servants who belong’d to _Constantia’s_ 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. + +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 _Constantia_ with the first Opportunity, +telling her, that _Agnes_ had drop’d it. This was the Substance of it: + + _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 +Constantia+; for she must be content with my Esteem, + since my Heart can be only yours._ + +The unfaithful _Portuguese_ serv’d _Elvira_ exactly to her Desires; and +the very next day seeing _Agnes_ go out from the Princess, she carry’d +_Constantia_ 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 _Don Pedro_! 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. + +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 _Don +Pedro_; at least, she made a firm Resolution, not to complain of him. + +_Elvira_ 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. + +_Agnes_, far from foreseeing this Tempest, return’d to _Constantia_; 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 _Agnes_ 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. + +The next day _Constantia_ appear’d, but so alter’d, that ’twas not +difficult to imagine what she had suffer’d. _Agnes_ was the most +impatient to approach her, and the Princess could not forbear weeping, +They were both silent for some time, and _Constantia_ attributed this +silence of _Agnes_ 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. _Agnes_, +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 _Constantia_ more disorder’d than usual, +and conjur’d her in a most obliging manner to take care of her Health: +_The greatest good for me_ (said she) _is not the Continuation of my +Life; I should have more care of it if I loved you less: but--_ 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. + +Nothing is more capable of troubling our Reason, and consuming our +Health, than secret Notions of Jealousy in Solitude. + +_Constantia_, who us’d to open her Heart freely to _Agnes_, 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: _Don Pedro_ was truly afflicted at it, but _Agnes_ more than +all the World beside. _Constantia’s_ 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. + +But the Distemper began to be such, that they fear’d _Constantia’s_ +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. + +The King, who lov’d her tenderly, and who knew her Virtue, was +infinitely mov’d at the Extremity she was in. And _Don Alvaro_, who lost +not the least Occasion of making him understand that it was Jealousy +which was the cause of _Constantia’s_ 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 your Memory illustrious! The Death +of _Constantia_ (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 _Agnes_, to +whom nothing ties me, expect from my hands? If _Constantia_ 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.’ + +_Don Pedro_ knew very well, that _Constantia_ was not ignorant of his +Sentiments for _Agnes_; 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, 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 _Agnes_ 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 _Agnes_) you offend a Virtue, +than which nothing can be purer; and those Expressions which break from +your Choler, are not worthy of you. _Agnes_ 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 _Constantia_.’ + +As they thus argued, one of the Princess’s Women came all in Tears to +acquaint _Don Pedro_, 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.’ + +The Prince ran to _Constantia_, whom he found dying, and _Agnes_ in a +swoon, in the Arms of some of the Ladies. What caus’d this double +Calamity, was, that _Agnes_, 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. + +_Constantia_, who found she must die, could no longer keep her secret +Affliction from _Agnes_; and after some Words, which were a Preparation +to the sad Explanation, she shewed her that fatal Billet, which _Elvira_ +had caus’d to be written: ‘Ah, Madam! (cry’d out the fair _Agnes_, 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 +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 _Coimbra_. 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.’ + +The Princess touched at this Discourse, and the Tears of _Agnes_, +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 _Agnes_, (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.’ + +’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 _Agnes_, ’twas to +_Constantia_ 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 _Don Pedro_) 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, +knowing that ’tis Inclination that disposes Hearts, and not Reason. +_Agnes_ 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 +_Agnes_ (pursu’d she) listen not to a Virtue too scrupulous, that may +make any opposition to the Prince of _Portugal_: 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 +_Fernando_, 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.’ + +The afflicted _Agnes_, 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 _Don Pedro_ never +removed from _Constantia_: ‘What, Madam (said he) you will leave me +then; and you think ’tis for my Good. Alas, _Constantia_! 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. + +But what Loads of Grief did this bring upon _Agnes_, when she found in +that Interval, wherein Life and Death were struggling in her Soul, that +_Constantia_ was newly expir’d! She would then have taken away her own +Life, and have let her Despair fully appear. + +At the noise of the Death of the Princess, the Town and the Palace were +all in Tears. _Elvira_, who saw then _Don Pedro_ free to engage himself, +repented of having contributed to the Death of _Constantia_; and +thinking her self the Cause of it, promis’d in her Griefs never to +pardon herself. + +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. + +He was a long time without seeing _Agnes_; but this Absence of his +served only to make her appear the more charming when he did see her. + +_Don Alvaro_, who was afraid of the Liberty of the Prince, made new +Efforts to move _Agnes de Castro_, who was now become insensible to +every thing but Grief. _Elvira_, 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 _Agnes_ alone that was to +reign over his Heart. She had taken a firm Resolution, since the Death +of _Constantia_, 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 _Agnes_ 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 _Constantia’s_, 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 and Ardour, with an offer of my +Fortune, which I wish not better, but for your advantage.’ + +_Agnes_ answer’d not immediately to these words, but with abundance of +Tears; which having wiped away, and beholding _Don Pedro_ 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) _Constantia_ 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 _Constantia_, 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.’ + +These Words made the fair _Agnes de Castro_ perceive that her Innocency +was not so great as she imagined, and that her Heart interested it self +in the Preservation of _Don Pedro_: ‘You ought, Sir, to preserve your +Life (reply’d _Agnes_) for the sake of the little Prince and Princesses, +which _Constantia_ has left you. Would you abandon their Youth +(continued she, with a tender Tone) to the Cruelty of _Don Alvaro_? +Live! Sir, live! and let the unhappy _Agnes_ be the only Sacrifice.’ +‘Alas, cruel Maid! (interrupted _Don Pedro_) Why do you command me to +live, if I cannot live with you? Is it an effect of your Hatred?’ ‘No, +Sir, (reply’d _Agnes_) 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 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 _Don Alvaro_, 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 _Constantia_ her Life.’ ‘Well then, +_Agnes_ (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.’ + +At these Words he went away; and troubled as _Agnes_ was, she would not +stay him: Her Courage combated with her Grief, and she thought now, more +than ever, of departing. + +’Twas difficult for her to go out of _Coimbra_; and not to defer what +appear’d to her so necessary, she went immediately to the Apartment of +the King, notwithstanding the Interest of _Don Alvaro_. The King +received her with a Countenance severe, not being able to consent to +what she demanded: _You shall not go hence, +(said he)+ and if you are +wise, you shall enjoy here with +Don Alvaro+ both my Friendship and my +Favour. I have taken another Resolution (+answer’d+ Agnes) and the World +has no part in it. You will accept +Don Pedro (reply’d the King)+ his +Fortune is sufficient to satisfy an ambitious Maid: but you will not +succeed +Constantia+, who lov’d you so tenderly; and +Spain+ has +Princesses enough to fill up part of the Throne which I shall leave him. +Sir, (+reply’d+ Agnes, +piqu’d at this Discourse+) 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._ + +This bold Answer, which shew’d the Character of _Agnes_, anger’d and +astonished the King. _You shall go when we think fit +(reply’d he)+ and +without being a Slave at +Coimbra+, you shall attend our order._ + +_Agnes_ 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 _Don +Alvaro_. + +During this, _Don Pedro_ fell sick, and was in so great danger, that +there was a general apprehension of his Death. _Agnes_ 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. + +’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. + +_Don Alvaro_ knew very well how to conceal a malicious Joy, under an +Appearance of Sadness. _Elvira_, 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. _Agnes de Castro_, 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 _Don Alvaro_ were the only Persons that +were not glad of it: But _Agnes_ rejoic’d enough for all the rest. + +_Don Pedro_, seeing that he must live whether he wou’d or no, thought of +nothing but passing his days in melancholy 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 _Agnes_ +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. + +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 _Agnes_, 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. + +After some Moments of Silence, which many Sighs interrupted, _Don Pedro_ +rais’d himself from the Place where his Weakness had forced him to sit; +he made _Agnes_ see, as he approach’d her, the sad Marks of his +Sufferings: and not content with the Pity he saw in her Eyes, _You have +resolved my Death then, cruel +Agnes+, +(said he)+ 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._ + +There was no need of these Words to move _Agnes_ 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 +_Constantia_ ought to be satisfy’d; Love, which combated for _Don +Pedro_, triumphed over Friendship, and found that happy Moment, for +which the Prince of _Portugal_, had so long sighed. + +_Do not reproach me, for that which has cost me more than you, Sir, ++(replied she)+ 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 is it farther that you require of me?_ _Don +Pedro_, who expected not a Change so favourable, felt a double +Satisfaction; and falling at the Feet of _Agnes_, he express’d more by +the Silence his Passion created, than he could have done by the most +eloquent Words. + +After having known all his good Fortune, he then consulted with the +amiable _Agnes_, what was to be feared from the King; they concluded +that the cruel Billet, which so troubled the last days of _Constantia_, +could come from none but _Elvira_ and _Don Alvaro_. The Prince, who knew +that his Father had searched already an Alliance for him, and was +resolv’d on his Favourite’s marrying _Agnes_, 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 will do +what you will have me_ (said she) _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 +Constantia+ seems to hinder me from +doing it._ + +The amorous Prince surmounted all her Scruples, and separated himself +from _Agnes_, 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, _Don Gill_, Bishop of _Guarda_, performed the +Ceremony of the Marriage, in the Presence of several Witnesses, faithful +to _Don Pedro_, who saw him Possessor of all the Charms of the fair +_Agnes_. + +She lived not the more peaceable for belonging to the Prince of +_Portugal_; 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 _Don Alvaro_, with Threats to force +her to it, if she continu’d rebellious. + +The Prince took loudly her part; and this, join’d to the Refusal he made +of marrying the Princess of _Arragon_, caus’d Suspicions of the Truth in +the King his Father. He was seconded by those that were too much +interested, not to unriddle this Secret. _Don Alvaro_ 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 _Don Pedro_ and _Agnes_. + +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. +_Don Alvaro_, 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 _Agnes_. + +The barbarous _Don Alvaro_ offered his Arm for this terrible Execution, +and his Rage was Security for the Sacrifice. + +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 _Agnes_ a Victim to +his Rage. + +It was not easy to execute this horrid Design: Tho’ the Prince saw +_Agnes_ but in secret, yet all his Cares were still awake for her, and +he was marry’d to her above a Year, before _Don Alvaro_ could find out +an opportunity so long sought for. + +The Prince diverted himself but little, and very rarely went far from +_Coimbra_; 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 _Portugal_ had near the City. + +_Agnes_ lov’d every thing that gave the Prince satisfaction; but a +secret Trouble made her apprehend some Misfortune in this unhappy +Journey. _Sir_, (said she to him, alarm’d, without knowing the Reason +why) _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 very dangerous, beware of the least Hazards, and bring me back +all that I trust with you. Don Pedro_, 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. + +He was no sooner gone, but the cruel _Don Alvaro_ 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 +_Don Lopez Pacheo_, and _Pedro Cuello_, two Monsters like himself, whose +Cruelty he was assur’d of by the Presents he had made ’em. + +They waited the coming of the Night, and the lovely _Agnes_ was in her +first Sleep, which was the last of her Life, when these Assassins +approach’d her Bed. Nothing made resistance to _Don Alvaro_, who could +do every thing, and whom the blackest Furies introduced to _Agnes_; she +waken’d, and opening her Curtains, saw, by the Candle burning in her +Chamber, the Ponyard with which _Don Alvaro_ was armed; he having his +Face not cover’d, she easily knew him, and forgetting herself, to think +of nothing but the Prince: _Just Heaven_ (said she, lifting up her fine +Eyes) _if you will revenge +Constantia+, satisfy your self with my Blood +only, and spare that of_ 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 _Agnes_, 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. + +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 +_Portugal_! He returned to _Coimbra_ 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 +_Agnes_, and said all that a just Despair could inspire him with, he ran +like a Mad-man into the Palace, demanding 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. + +_Don Alvaro_, and the two other Assassins, quitted _Coimbra_. 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 +_Agnes_, 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 _Portugal_ himself, if he should yet +take the part of the Murderers: with these he ravaged the whole Country, +as far as the _Duero_ 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 _Agnes_. + + +Such was the deplorable End of the unfortunate Love of _Don Pedro_ of +_Portugal_, and of the fair _Agnes de Castro_, 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. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE HISTORY OF THE NUN; OR, THE FAIR VOW-BREAKER. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +In the Epistle Dedicatory to Antony Hammond, Esq., of Somersham-Place, +prefacing that pathetic tragedy, _The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent +Adultery_[1] (4to, 1694), Southerne writes: ‘I took the Hint of the +Tragical part of this Play from a Novel of Mrs. _Behn’s_, call’d _The +Fair Vow-Breaker_; 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’. + +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 _The Fair Vow-Breaker_, but on the other hand all +contain _The Nun; or, the Perjur’d Beauty_. For over two hundred years +then, critics, theatrical historians, bibliographers alike have laid +down that _The Fair Vow-Breaker_ is merely another title for _The Nun; +or, The Perjur’d Beauty_, 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 _The Fair Jilt; or, The History of Prince Tarquin and Miranda_; on +the half-title of the same _The Fair Hypocrite; or, The Amours of Prince +Tarquin and Miranda_ (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 _The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker_’. All the modern +writers have duly, but wrongly, accepted this; and Miss Charlotte E. +Morgan in her monograph, _The English Novel till 1749_, informs us in +more than one place that _The Fair Vow-Breaker_ (12mo, 1689) was the +name of the editio princeps of _The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty_. + +A crux, however, was soon apparent. Upon investigation it is obvious +that the plot of _The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery_ has +simply nothing in common with _The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty_. 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. + +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? + +Professor Paul Hamelius of Liège set out to solve the difficulty, and in +a scholarly article (_Modern Language Review_, July, 1909), he marshals +the facts and seeks a solution. ‘Among her [Mrs. Behn’s] collected +novels’[2] he writes ‘there is one entitled _The Nun; or, The Perjur’d +Beauty_ and Mr. Gosse has kindly informed me that the story is identical +with _The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker_ 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 +_The Virgin Captive_, the fifth story in Roger L’Estrange’s _The Spanish +Decameron_ (1687). Again: there is the famous legend of the lovers of +Teruel as dramatized in 1638 by Juan Perez de Montalvan, _Los Amantes de +Teruel_. 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.’ + +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[3] from his +private library: _The History of the Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker_ +(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 +_The Nun; or, The Perjur’d Beauty_, 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. + +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 _Enoch Arden_, occurs in every shape and +tongue. No. 69 of _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_ is _L’Honneste femme à +Deux Maris_.[4] A more famous exemplar we have in the _Decameron_, Day +IV, Novella 8, whose rubric runs: ‘Girolamo ama la Salvestra: va, +costretto da’ prieghi 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.’ + +Scenes of the amusing underplot of _The Fatal Marriage_ which contain +some excellent comedy, Southerne took directly from _The Night Walker; +or, The Little Thief_ (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 _Decameron_, 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 _Feronde; +ou, le Purgatoire_ of La Fontaine. + +_The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery_ long kept the stage.[5] +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 _Isabella_ 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. + + [Footnote 1: This has nothing to do with Scarron’s novel, _L’ + Innocent Adultère_ 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, (_The Old Batchelor_, 1693), and Lydia + Languish was partial to its perusal in 1775.] + + [Footnote 2: Hamelius used the collected edition of 1705.] + + [Footnote 3: It is interesting to note that the book originally + belonged to Scott’s friend and critic, Charles Kirkpatrick + Sharpe.] + + [Footnote 4: Reproduced by Celio Malespini _Ducento Novelle_, No. + 9 (Venice, 4to, 1609, but probably written about thirty years + before).] + + [Footnote 5: A French prose translation of Southerne is to be + found in Vol. VIII of _Le Theâtre Anglois_, Londres, 1746. It is + entitled _L’Adultère Innocent_; but the comic underplot is very + sketchily analyzed, scene by scene, and the whole is very mediocre + withal.] + + + + + To the Most Illustrious Princess, + The Dutchess of Mazarine. + + Madam, + +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. + +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. + +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, + + Madam, + Your Graces most humble, + and most obedient Servant, + A. BEHN. + + + + +THE HISTORY OF THE NUN; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker. + + +Of 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 _Violated Vows_, which never go unpunished; and +the _Cupids_ 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 +_Gods_; 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 _Doves_, that would never quit their Mate, and, like _Indian_ +Wives, would leap alive into the Graves of their deceased Lovers, and be +buried quick 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. + +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 _Sacred Vow_, +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. + +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 we shall maintain, is not in our +power, and nothing is so deceitful as human Hearts. + +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. + +In _Iper_, a Town, not long since, in the Dominions of the King of +_Spain_, and now in possession of the King of _France_, there liv’d a +Man of Quality, of a considerable Fortune, call’d, Count _Henrick de +Vallary_, who had a very beautiful Lady, by whom, he had one Daughter, +call’d _Isabella_, 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 _Isabella_, 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 +_Jesuits_, of which number, he became one; and the other half, he gave +with _Isabella_, to the Monastery, of which, his only Sister was Lady +_Abbess_, of the Order of St. _Augustine_; but so he ordered the matter, +that if, at the Age of Thirteen, _Isabella_ had not a mind to take +Orders, or that the Lady _Abbess_ 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 _Abbess_, who was a Lady of known Piety, and admirable +strictness of Life, and so nearly related to _Isabella_, that there was +no doubt made of her Integrity and Justice. + +The little _Isabella_ 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 +_Isabella_; 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 _Isabella_, if one could +Dance, another Sing, another play on this Instrument, and another on +that; if this spoke one 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 _Grate_; 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 _Isabella_. + +The Lady _Abbess_, her Aunt, you may believe, was not a little proud of +the Excellencies and Virtues of her fair _Niece_, 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 _Nun_, 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 _Nunnery_, and no +Satisfactions on the other side of a _Grate_. + +The Lady _Abbess_, 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 _Isabella_, 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 _Abbess_ could say of the +World, and its Pleasures, _Isabella_ brought a thousand Reasons and +Arguments, so Pious, so Devout, that the _Abbess_ 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’ _Isabella_ 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 _Abbess_ 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. + +As the Count had commanded, all things were performed; and _Isabella_ +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 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 +_Isabella de Valerie_, that 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 _Isabella_ 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, _Love_, 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 _Father_, the Lady _Abbess_, 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 _Isabella_, 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 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 _Nuns_; 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. + +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 +_Villenoys_, 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 _Candia_, in a very +good Equipage, but, overtaken by his Fate, surpris’d in his way to +Glory, he stopt at _Ipers_, 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 and tender, that she had, of all her Lovers, most +compassion for _Villenoys_, 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. + +When _Villenoys_ 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 _Isabella’s_ being made a _Nun_, 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 _Villenoys_ the best; and if +she ever could have lov’d, she believ’d it would have been _Villenoys_, +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 _Isabella’s_ Beauty and Fortune. + +As the time approach’d, when he must eternally lose all hope, by +_Isabella’s_ 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 _Villenoys_ was dying +for the Fair _Isabella_; his Relations, being all of Quality, were +extreamly afflicted at his Misfortune, and joyn’d their Interests yet, +to dissuade this fair young Victoress from an act so cruel, as to +inclose herself in a _Nunnery_, 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, _Villenoys_ 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 _Nun_; 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 +_Villenoys_, 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 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. + +This being all they could get from her, they return’d with Looks that +told their Message; however, they render’d those soft things _Isabella_ +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 +_Isabella_ a _Nun_; which was a Secret to none but _Villenoys_, 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 _Candia_; where he behav’d himself very gallantly, under +the Command of the Duke De _Beaufort_, and, with him, return’d to +_France_, after the loss of that noble City to the _Turks_. + +In all the time of his absence, that he might the sooner establish his +Repose, he forbore sending to the fair Cruel _Nun_, and she heard no +more of _Villenoys_ 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 _Votress_; she was a Saint in the Chapel, +and an Angel at the _Grate_: 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 that pass’d through _Iper_; of Strangers, +came directed and recommended to the lovely _Isabella_; I mean, those of +Quality: But however Diverting she was at the _Grate_, 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 _Nuns_ 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 _ISABELLA_.’ + +There was in this _Nunnery_, a young _Nun_, call’d, Sister _Katteriena_, +Daughter to the Grave _Vanhenault_, that is to say, an Earl, who liv’d +about six Miles from the Town, in a noble _Villa_; this Sister +_Katteriena_ 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 _Isabella_, 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 +_Grate_, to the Garden, or to any place, whither their _Affairs_ call’d +either. This young _Katteriena_ 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 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 _Iper_ to the _Monastery_, and would sit at the +_Grate_, entertaining his Sister the most part of the Afternoon, and, in +the Evening, retire; he had often seen and convers’d with the lovely +_Isabella_, 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 _Iper_ 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 _Grate_, +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. + +On the other side, _Isabella_ was not so Gay as she us’d to be, but, on +the sudden, retir’d her self more from the _Grate_ 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 _Abbess_, 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 _Abbess_, 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 _Katteriena_, whom she lov’d every day more and more. + +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 _Katteriena_ told _Isabella_, +that before she was a _Nun_, in her more happy days, she was so like her +Brother _Bernardo Henault_, (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 _Picture_, she had in a +Dressing-Box, she threw it to _Isabella_, 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 +_Picture_ brought: _Katteriena_ had too much Wit, not to make a just +Interpretation of this Change, and (as a Woman) was naturally curious to +pry farther, 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 _Katteriena_) is the likeness of my Brother so +offensive to you?’ _Isabella_ 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 _Henault_, 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 _Grate_, 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.’ + +‘Ah, my dear Sister! (reply’d _Katteriena_) 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’: + +‘You have too much Wit, (reply’d _Isabella_) 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 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?’ + +While she was speaking these words, she threw her Arms about the Neck of +the fair _Katteriena_, and bath’d her Bosom (where she hid her Face) +with a shower of Tears; _Katteriena_, 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 _Nun_, 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 _Arnaldo_, 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 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!’ + +‘No more, no more, (reply’d _Isabella_, throwing her Arms again about +the Neck of the transported _Katteriena_) 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 _Katteriena_) 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 _Arnaldo_ 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 _Isabella_) that People often +recover?’ ‘Most frequently, (said _Katteriena_) and yet some dye of the +Disease, but very rarely.’ ‘Nay then, (said _Isabella_) 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. Oh _Katteriena_! 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 _Henault’s_ 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.’ + +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 _Henault_ no more: At first, _Isabella_ was +afraid, that, in refusing to see him, he might mistrust her Passion; but +_Katteriena_ 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 _Henault_; 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 resolv’d to dye a +thousand Deaths, rather than not perform her Promise made to +_Katteriena_; 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 _Katteriena_, who soon return’d to the afflicted Maid; +the next day, about the time that _Henault_ was to come, as he usually +did, about two or three a Clock after Noon, ’tis impossible to express +the uneasiness of _Isabella_; she ask’d, a thousand times, ‘What, is not +your Brother come?’ When Dame _Katteriena_ 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 _Katteriena_) for you shall keep your +Chamber.’ She need not have urg’d that, for _Isabella_ was very ill +without knowing it, and in a Feaver. + +At last, one of the _Nuns_ came up, and told Dame _Katteriena_, that her +Brother was at the _Grate_, and she desired, he should be bid come about +to the Private _Grate_ above stairs, which he did, and she went to him, +leaving _Isabella_ even dead on the Bed, at the very name of _Henault_: +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 _Grate_, +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 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 _Henault_, 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 _Ideas_ of the lovely _Henault_, 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 _Katteriena_ was, and where there was a +private _Grate_, at which, she was entertaining her _Brother_; they were +earnest in Discourse, and so loud, that _Isabella_ could easily hear all +they said, and the first words were from _Katteriena_, 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 _Isabella_, 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 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 _Flanders_ have address’d +themselves to her in vain, when yet she was in the World? Have you been +ignorant, how the young Count de _Villenoys_ 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 _Henault_) your Counsel comes too late, +and your Reasons are of too feeble force, to rebate those Arrows, the +Charming _Isabella’s_ 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 _Isabella_ may be, it bears the Tincture still of +Mortal Woman.’ + +‘Suppose this true, how could this Mortal part about her Advantage you, +(said _Katteriena_) 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 _Henault_) 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 +_Isabella_, 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 _Katteriena_ 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 _Katteriena_ 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 Cunning, and resolves to +seem to reassume her former Repose: But hearing _Katteriena_ 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 _Isabella_ 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 _Katteriena_) that +this wanton Deity is repell’d by the noble force of your Resolutions? Is +he never to return?’ ‘No, (replied _Isabella_) never to my Heart.’ ‘Yes, +(said _Katteriena_) if you should see the lovely Murderer of your +Repose, your Wound would bleed anew.’ At this, _Isabella_ smiling with a +little Disdain, reply’d, ‘Because you once to love, and _Henault’s_ +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 _Isabella’s_ 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 _Katteriena_ 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: _Isabella_ 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, _Katteriena_ would make such Excuses to her +Brother, for her not appearing at the _Grate_ so gay and entertaining as +she us’d, and, by a little absence, she should retrieve the Liberty she +had lost: But she desir’d, such Excuses might be made for her, that +young _Henault_ might not perceive the Reason. At the naming him, she +had much ado not to shew some Concern extraordinary, and _Katteriena_ +assur’d her, She had now a very good Excuse to keep from the _Grate_, +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 +_Katteriena_) 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 +_Isabella_, 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 _Katteriena_, 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 _Grate_, 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, _Katteriena_ +joyfully related to her all that had pass’d between young _Henault_ and +her self, and how he implor’d her Aid in this Amour; at the end of which +Relation, _Isabella_ smil’d, and carelesly reply’d, ‘I pity him’: And so +going to their Devotion, they had no more Discourse of the Lover. + +In the mean time, young _Henault_ was a little satisfy’d, to know, his +Sister would discover his Passion to the lovely _Isabella_; 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 _Isabella_, 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 +_Nun_ 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. + +His impatience to know, what Success _Katteriena_ had, with the Relation +she was to make to _Isabella_ in his behalf, brought him early to _Iper_ +the next day. He came again to the private _Grate_, 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 _Isabella_, +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.’ + +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 _Isabella_ 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 _NUN_ 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 _Grate_, and, in time, make both +her you love, and your self, a Town Discourse.’ + +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, _Henault_ 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 _Isabella_; for he +imagin’d, since already she knew his Passion, and 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 _Isabella’s_ +Heart, he, by a strange sympathy, took the same measures to deceive +_Katteriena_, 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 _Isabella_, he took his +leave, and came no more to the _Nunnery_ in ten Days; in all which time, +none but Impatient Lovers can guess, what Pain and Languishments +_Isabella_ suffer’d, not knowing the Cause of his Absence, nor daring to +enquire; but she bore it out so admirably, that Dame _Katteriena_ 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 _Isabella_ 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 _Isabella_ unconcernedly, while her Heart +was fainting within, for fear of ill News:) With that, _Katteriena_ 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 self, this News was +not so welcom to _Isabella_, as _Katteriena_ 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. + +At last _Henault_ came again to the _Monastery_, 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 +_Isabella_, only to convince, both her, and _Katteriena_, 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 _Isabella_; nor did _Isabella_ look, or ask, after +him, but in her Heart. Two Months pass’d in this Indifference, till it +was taken notice of, that Sister _Isabella_ came not to the _Grate_, +when _Henault_ was there, as she us’d to do; this being spoken to Dame +_Katteriena_, she told it to _Isabella_, and said, ‘The _NUNS_ 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 _Isabella_, who thought +it time to retrieve the flying Lover, and therefore told _Katteriena_, +She would the next Day entertain at the Low _Grate_, 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 +_Henault_, and it was well for both, that People were in the Room, they +had else both sufficiently discover’d their 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 _Grate_, +_Katteriena_ being employ’d elsewhere, _Isabella_ was at last left alone +with _Henault_; 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, _Isabella_, 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 _Henault_, who could not come to her Assistance, +and finding Marks of Love, rather than Anger or Disdain, in that +Confusion of _Isabella’s_, throwing himself on his Knees at the _Grate_, +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: 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. + +‘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 _Henault_ 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 _Isabella_ was going to speak, lest +she should say something, that might 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 _Monastery_? 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 _Grate_; 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 be for ever +dedicated to the lovely _ISABELLA_: 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 _Grate_.’ + +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, _ISABELLA_ +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 _Nuns_, and only had time to +say, ‘If you love me, live and hope.’ The rest of the _Nuns_ began to +ask _Henault_ 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 _Isabella’s_ 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. + +Thus they pass’d the day, till it was a decent hour for him to quit the +_Grate_, and for them to draw the Curtain; all that Night did _Isabella_ +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 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. + +As soon as she was laid, without discoursing (as she us’d to do) to +_Katteriena_, 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 +_Henault_, 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 _Henault_ 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? + +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 _Monastery_, and in the +World, what they both would 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 _Monastery_, [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 _Abbess_, she had greater privilege than the rest; so that she had +no more to do, she thought, than to acquaint _Henault_ with her Design, +as soon as she should get an opportunity. Which was not quickly; but, in +the mean time, _Isabella’s_ 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 _Henault_, and then to fly. + +She waited not long, all things concurring to her desire; for +_Katteriena_ falling sick, she had the good luck, as she call’d it then, +to entertain _Henault_ at the _Grate_ 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 _Henault_, 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, 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, _Henault_! 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 _Isabella_, 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 +_Isabella_ 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, 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 +_Henault_; no Riches, but his Love; no Grandure, but his Presence.’ She +ended speaking, with Tears, and he reply’d, ‘Now, now, I find, my +_Isabella_ 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 _Isabella_!’ + +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 _Grate_ 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. + +_Isabella’s_ dead Mother had left Jewels, of the value of 2000_l._ to +her Daughter, at her Decease, which Jewels were in the possession, now, +of the Lady _Abbess_, and were upon Sale, to be added to the Revenue of +the _Monastery_; and as _Isabella_ 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 _Abbess_, and ’twas not difficult to make +her self Mistress of all her own Jewels; as also, some 3 or 400_l._ in +Gold, that was hoarded up in her Ladyship’s Cabinet, against any +Accidents that might arrive to the _Monastery_; these _Isabella_ also +made her own, and put up with the Jewels; and having acquainted +_Henault_, 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 _Monastery_, 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 _Henault_ 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. + +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 _Henault_ 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 _Iper_, to +a little Town upon the River _Rhine_, 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 _Beroone_, and drove +a Farming Trade; 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: _Isabella_ writ to her Aunt the most +moving Letters in the World, so did _Henault_ to his Father; but she was +a long time, before she could gain so much as an answer from her Aunt, +and _Henault_ 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 _Henault_ was fled with the so fam’d _Isabella_, a _Nun_, and +singular for Devotion and Piety of Life, but he immediately setled his +Estate on his younger Son, cutting _Henault_ off with all his +Birthright, which was 5000_l._ 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 _Isabella_, 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, he 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 Country, if any ill Luck had arriv’d to any body, +they would say, ‘They had Monsieur _BEROONE’S_ Luck.’ All these +Reflections did but add to his Melancholy, and he grew at last to be in +some want, insomuch, that _Isabella_, 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 _Monastery_, 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 _Henault_. He was now about three and twenty Years old, and +_Isabella_ 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 _Abbess_, and the +_Bishop_, who was her near Kinsman, they got a Pardon for _Isabella’s_ +quitting the _Monastery_, and marrying, so that she might now return +to her own Country again. _Henault_ having also his Pardon, they +immediately quit the place, where they had remain’d for two Years, and +came again into _Flanders_, hoping, the change of place might afford ’em +better Luck. + +_Henault_ 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 _French_ +Campagn, he would Equip him as well as his Quality requir’d, and 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. + +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 _Isabella_ 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 _Henault_, 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 _Henault_ and _Isabella_; 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 no 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 _Isabella_, melancholy as he was +with his ill Fortune; the _Bishop_, kinsman to _Isabella_, 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 _Venetian_ against the _Turks_, or into the _French_ Service, +which he lik’d best; he besought him to think of it; and since he had +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. + +At last, he lets _Isabella_ 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 _Monastery_, +till the time of his Return; but when she nam’d the _Monastery_, 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. + +_Henault_, 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 +_Turks_; his Father was very well pleas’d at this, and sent him Two +thousand 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. + +He made what hast he could to the _French_ Army, then under the Command +of the Monsignior, the Duke of _Beaufort_, then at _Candia_, and put +himself a Voluntier under his Conduct; in which Station was _Villenoys_, +who, you have already heard, was so passionate a Lover of _Isabella_, +who no sooner heard of _Henault’s_ being arriv’d, and that he was +Husband to _Isabella_, 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. + +As soon as he sent his Name to _Henault_, he was sent for up, for +_Henault_ had heard of _Villenoys_, and that he had been a Lover of +_Isabella_; 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, _Villenoys_ being gone to the Army, +just as _Henault_ came from the _Jesuits_ 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 _Henault_, +of his Amour. + +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 _Villenoys_, and that _Henault_ 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 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, +_Villenoys_ 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 _Turk_; and +_Villenoys_ 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 +_Isabella_, 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 _Beaufort_ +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 _Isabella_, how much worth her Esteem +he dy’d, and that he had Eterniz’d his Memory with the last Gasp of his +Life. + +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 escap’d with _Villenoys_; he brought back what Money he had, a few +Jewels, with _Isabella’s_ Picture that he carry’d with him and had left +in his Chamber in the Fort at _Candia_, for fear of breaking it in +Action. And now _Isabella’s_ 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 _Henault’s_ 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 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. + +It happen’d, that, about this time, _Candia_ being unfortunately taken +by the _Turks_, all the brave Men that escap’d the Sword, return’d, +among them, _Villenoys_, who no sooner arriv’d, but he sent to let +_Isabella_ 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 _Henault’s_ 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 _Isabella’s_, 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 _Isabella_ 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 _Turks_: 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. + +He made his Visits so often, and so long, that, at last, he took the +Courage to speak of his Passion, which, at first, _Isabella_ 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 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 +_Abbess_, dy’d, and with her, all the Hopes and Fortune of _Isabella_, +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. + +The death of this Lady made her look more favourably on _Villenoys_; 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 _Villenoys_, 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. + +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 _Villenoys_, she would not consent to marry him, till +her Vow of Widowhood was expir’d. + +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 +_Villenoys_ had no Parents to hinder his Design; or if he had, the +Reputation and Virtue of this Lady would have subdu’d them. + +The Marriage was celebrated in this House, where she liv’d ever since +her Return from _Germany_, from the time she got her Pardon; and when +_Villenoys_ 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 +_Flanders_, 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 _Valet_, +and the Maid, were lodg’d abroad, for _Isabella_, 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 _Nun_ still, than a Lady of +the World; and very rarely any Maids came about her, but _Maria_, who +had always permission to come, when ever she pleas’d, unless forbidden. + +As _Villenoys_ 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 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, +_That more are the Children of the Barren, than the Fruitful Woman_. She +liv’d in this Tranquility, belov’d by all, for the space of five Years, +and Time (and perpetual Obligations from _Villenoys_, who was the most +indulgent and indearing Man in the World) had almost worn out of her +Heart the Thought of _Henault_, 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 _Villenoys_. + +_Villenoys_, 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 _Villenoys_ 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 _Villa_, to hunt, and appointed to meet him at his +Country House, in order to go in search of this promis’d Game; So that +_Villenoys_ got about a Week’s Provision, of what Necessaries he thought +he should want in that time; and taking only his _Valet_, who lov’d the +Sport, he left _Isabella_ for a Week to her Devotion, and her other +innocent Diversions of fine Work, at which she was Excellent, and left +the Town to go meet this young Challenger. + +When _Villenoys_ was at any time out, it was the custom of _Isabella_ 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 _Maria_ to attend her; which was +accordingly done. This _Maria_ 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 _Monastery_. + +When all were in Bed, and the little light Supper just carry’d up to the +Lady, and only, as I said, _Maria_ attending, some body knock’d at the +Gate, it being about Nine of the Clock at Night; so _Maria_ 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 +_Maria_) 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 _Isabella’s_ Name and Hair in it, he gave +it _Maria_, who, shutting the Gate upon him, went in with the Ring; as +soon as _Isabella_ saw it, she was ready to swound on the Chair where +she sate, and cry’d, Where had you this? _Maria_ 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. _Isabella_ reply’d, (almost swounding again) Oh, +_Maria!_ I am ruin’d. The Maid, all this while, knew not what she meant, +nor, that that was a Ring given to _Henault_ by her Mistress, but +endeavouring to recover her, only ask’d her, What she should say to the +old Messenger? _Isabella_ bid her bring him up to her, (she had scarce +Life to utter these last words) and before she was well recover’d, +_Maria_ enter’d with the Man; and _Isabella_ making a Sign to her, to +depart the Room, she was left alone with him. + +_Henault_ (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 _Henault_ 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 _Henault_ 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 _Isabella_ 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 _Villenoys_, and the +Scorn of the Town, who will look on her as an Adulteress: She sees +_Henault_ 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, or Care, tho’ she had endur’d a thousand with +_Henault_. 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 _Villenoys_ must see her again in the Arms of _Henault_; +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. + +’Twas so with the Heart of _Isabella_; had she believ’d, _Henault_ 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 _Villenoys_. + +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 _Maria_ know who he was, to +see how long it would be, before she knew him or would call him to mind. +But _Isabella_ commanded _Maria_, 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 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, _Isabella_ oblig’d him to tell her, How he came to be +reported Dead; of which, she receiv’d Letters, both from Monsieur +_Villenoys_, and the Duke of _Beaufort_, 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 +_Isabella_ 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 +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, _Isabella_ 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 _Henault_, 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 _Maria_ 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 _Henault_, with a Penknife 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. + +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 _Villenoys_; who having been at his Country +_Villa_, 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 _Isabella_; 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 _Isabella_ flying +from him, out at another Door, with all the speed she could, he admires +at this Action, and the more, 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, _Isabella_ 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 _Villenoys_, 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.’ + +With this, and hearten’d by his Caresses, she told him, That _Henault_ +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 _Villenoys_; at that word +(said she) he fetch’d a deep Sigh or two, and presently after, with a +very little struggling, dy’d; and, yonder, he lyes still in the Bed. +After this, she wept so abundantly, that all _Villenoys_ could do, could +hardly calm her Spirits; but after, consulting what they should do in +this Affair, _Villenoys_ ask’d her, Who of the House saw him? She said, +Only _Maria_, who knew not who he was; so that, resolving to save +_Isabella’s_ Honour, which was the only Misfortune to come, _Villenoys_ +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 _Villenoys_ 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 _Isabella_, 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 _Isabella_, telling her, He would +put the Body in there, for the better convenience of carrying it on his +Back. _Isabella_ all this while said but little, but, fill’d with +Thoughts all Black and Hellish, she ponder’d within, while the Fond and +Passionate _Villenoys_ 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, _Villenoys_ 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. + +When _Villenoys_, who would, for the Safety of _Isabella’s_ Honour, be +the sole Actor in the disposing of this Body; and since he was Young, +Vigorous, and Strong, and able 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 _Isabella_ 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 +_Villenoy’s_ 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 +_Villenoys_) 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 +_Villenoys_ 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. + +_Isabella_ 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 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. + +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 _Villenoys_; his +_Valet_, 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 _Isabella_ rising, and opening the Door, _Maria_ first +enter’d weeping, with the News, and then brought the _Valet_, to testify +the fatal Truth of it. _Isabella_, 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 _Valet_) 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 _Valet_ to go to +the Hall, and to take Order about the Coroner’s sitting on the Body of +_Villenoys_, and then to have it brought home: She called _Maria_ to +her, and, after bidding her shut the Door, she cry’d, Ah, _Maria_! 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 _Villenoys_ +(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 +_Flanders_, 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 _Henault’s_ 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 _Villenoys_ 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 _Maria_, to whom, all that her +Mistress said, was Gospel, verily believ’d it so, without examining +Reason; and _Isabella_ 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, and, to this she bound her by an Oath; so +that none knowing _Henault_, 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 +_Villenoys_ home to his House, where, it being laid on a Table, all the +House infinitely bewail’d it; and _Isabella_ 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 _Isabella_, 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 _Isabella_; 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 _Villenoys_ being interr’d in a most magnificent manner, and, by +Will all he had, was long since setled on _Isabella_, 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. + +It happen’d, not long after this, there came to the Town a _French_ +Gentleman, who was taken at the Siege of _Candia_, and was Fellow-Slave +with _Henault_, for seven Years, in _Turky_, and who had escap’d with +_Henault_, and came as far as _Liege_ with him, where, having some +Business and Acquaintance with a Merchant, he stay’d some time; but when +he parted with _Henault_, he ask’d him, Where he should find him in +_Flanders_? _Henault_ 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 _French_ Man came at last, to the very House of +_Isabella_, 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 _Henault’s_ 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 _Barber_ to Trim him, when his bushy Beard was off, +a great many People remember’d him; and the _French_ Man affirming, he +went to his own Home, all _Isabella’s_ 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. + +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. 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 _Vow-Breakers_, that it was as +amazing to hear her, as it was to behold her. + +After she had done with the help of _Maria_, 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. + + _FINIS._ + + + + +NOTES: The History of the Nun. + + +p. 262 _The Dutchess of Mazarine._ 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 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.’ + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE NUN: or, The Perjur’d Beauty. + +A TRUE NOVEL. + + +Don _Henrique_ 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 _Spaniards_) and always +engag’d in some Love-Intrigue or other. + +One Night as he was retreating from one of those Engagements, Don +_Sebastian_, whose Sister he had abus’d with a Promise of Marriage, set +upon him at the Corner of a Street, in _Madrid_, 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 _Sebastian’s_ 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 +_Antonio_ accidentally come in to the Rescue; who after a short Dispute, +kill’d one of the two who attack’d him only; whilst Don _Henrique_, with +the greatest Difficulty, defended his Life, for some Moments, against +_Sebastian_, 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 _Henrique_. _Antonio_ 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 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. + +As they were marching off, Don _Antonio_, 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 _Antonio_ 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. + +In the mean time, Don _Sebastian’s_ Friend was just going to call Help +to carry off the Bodies, as the ---- 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 _Sebastian_; 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 _Henrique_ +and _Antonio_ 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 +_Sebastian’s_ Recovery, the Search ceasing, they took the Advantage of +the Night, and, in Disguise, retreated to _Seville_. ’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 _Sebastian_, and his Friends, yet they could not there +avoid the malicious Influence of their Stars. + +This City gave Birth to _Antonio_, and to the Cause of his greatest +Misfortunes, as well as of his Death. Dona _Ardelia_ was born there, +a Miracle of Beauty and Falshood. ’Twas more than a Year since Don +_Antonio_ 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’ _Antonio_ 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. + +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 _Duegna_. +Under this miserable Confinement _Antonio_ understood she still +continued, at his Return to _Seville_, with Don _Henrique_, whom he +acquainted with his invincible Passion for her; lamenting the Severity +of her present Circumstances, that admitted of no Prospect of Relief; +which caus’d a generous Concern in Don _Henrique_, both for the +Sufferings of his Friend, and of the Lady. He proposed several Ways to +Don _Antonio_, for the Release of the fair Prisoner; but none of them +was thought practicable, or at least likely to succeed. But _Antonio_, +who (you may believe) was then more nearly engag’d, bethought himself of +an Expedient that would undoubtedly reward their Endeavours. ’Twas, that +Don _Henrique_, who was very well acquainted with _Ardelia’s_ 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 _Henrique’s_ 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 _Henrique_ was received by the Father of _Ardelia_ 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 +_Henrique_ being invited by the Father to Dinner the next Day, when Dona +_Ardelia_ 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.) _Henrique_ returned to _Antonio_, and made him happy with +the Account of his Reception; which could not but have terminated in the +perfect Felicity of _Antonio_, had his Fate been just to the Merits of +his Love. The Day and Hour came which brought _Henrique_, with a private +Commission from his Friend, to _Ardelia_. 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 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 +_Henrique_ 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, _Henrique_ +return’d to the longing _Antonio_; who, receiving the Paper with the +greatest Devotion, and kissing it with the greatest Zeal, open’d and +read these Words to himself: + + _Don +Antonio+,_ + + _You 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_ + + Your’s entirely, + And only your’s, + _ARDELIA_. + +Having respectfully and tenderly kiss’d the Name, he could not chuse but +shew the _Billet_ to his Friend; who reading that Part of it which +concern’d himself, started and blush’d: Which _Antonio_ observing, was +curious to know the Cause of it. _Henrique_ 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 _Henrique_ knew how to make it bear another Meaning; which, +however, he had the Discretion to conceal. _Antonio_, 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 _Henrique_, (added _Antonio_;) 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 _Henrique_.) 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 _Henrique_.) 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 _Antonio_) 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 _Henrique_) 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 _Antonio_) but expect to enjoy ’em both +in a little Time. + +_Henrique_, who was a little uneasy with a Discourse of this Nature, +diverted it, by reflecting on what had pass’d at _Madrid_, between them +two and Don _Sebastian_ and his Friends; which caus’d _Antonio_ to +bethink himself of the Danger to which he expos’d his Friend, by +appearing daily, tho’ in Disguise: For, doubtless, Don _Sebastian_ 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 accordingly, each Day Don _Henrique_ brought _Antonio_ +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 +_Antonio_ expected to be bless’d in her Love, Don _Henrique_ 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 _Henrique_ 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, _Ardelia_? (continued +he, by Way of Question:) Does not your Love require it? Think, you are +going to your dear _Antonio_, who alone can merit you, and whom only 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 _Henrique_ +(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 _Ardelia_! these +Words belong to none but _Antonio_; 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, _Ardelia_! 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 _Henrique_! (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 _Henrique_, 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 _Antonio_!--Ha! (cry’d he, starting) what said you, +Madam? What did _Ardelia_ say? That I had bless’d your Soul with Hopes! +That I would cast you away to _Antonio_!--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. No, (said she) let it alone, Don +_Henrique_; 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 _Henrique_) 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 _Henrique_;) but you need no Art nor Artifice, +_Ardelia_, 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, _Ardelia_. 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, _Ardelia_! But that were impossible--At +least unjust, (interrupted she.) Well then (he went on) to shew you that +I do sincerely consult your particular Happiness, without any regard to +my own, To-morrow I will give you to Don _Antonio_; and as a Proof of +your Love to me, I expect your ready Consent to it. To let you see, Don +_Henrique_, how perfectly and tenderly I love you, I will be sacrificed +To-morrow to Don _Antonio_, and to your Quiet. Oh, strongest, dearest +Obligation!--cry’d _Henrique_: 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 _Roman_ Ceremony) that +you or some other pitying Angel, will snatch me from the Altar. Ah, no +more, _Ardelia_! 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.] + +_Antonio_ was all Rapture with the Thoughts of the approaching Day; +which tho’ it brought Don _Henrique_ and his dear _Ardelia_ 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 _Seville_, which was the Place assigned for their +fatal Interview. He saw her, I say; but ah! how strange! how altered +from the dear, kind _Ardelia_ 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 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. _Antonio_, (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 _Ardelia_? If you like the +Repetition, take it? (reply’d she, unmoved) _Would to Heaven you were +never like to see me more!_ 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, _Antonio_, 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 +_Henrique_, your Friend, commands it; Don _Henrique_, the dearest Object +of my Soul, enjoins it; Don _Henrique_, whose only Aversion I am, will +have it so. Oh, do not wrong me, Madam! (cry’d Don _Henrique_.) Lead me, +lead me a little more by the Light of your Discourse, I beseech you +(said Don _Antonio_) that I may see your Meaning! for hitherto ’tis +Darkness all to me. Attend therefore with your best Faculties (pursu’d +_Ardelia_) and know, That I do most sincerely and most passionately love +Don _Henrique_; 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, _Antonio_, but purely to sacrifice all the Quiet of my Life to +his Satisfaction. And now, Sir (continued she, addressing her self to +Don _Henrique_) 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, _Ardelia_--(said _Antonio_:) And then +turning to Don _Henrique_, 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 _Henrique_) +may I be made most miserable!--May I lose the Blessings of thy +Friendship!--May I lose thee!--Say on then, _Henrique_! (cry’d +_Antonio_:) 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 +_Henrique_, 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, _Henrique_ began;--Oh, _Antonio_! 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, _Antonio_,--I love _Ardelia_ 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 +_Antonio_) yet prithee now go on, but with all Haste. I will, (returned +Don _Henrique_) tho’ I feel my own Words have the same cruel Effects on +me. I say, again, my Soul loves _Ardelia_: 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, _Ardelia_ best can tell you whom +she loves. What I have already said, is true, by Heaven (cry’d she) ’tis +you, Don _Henrique_, whom I only love, and who alone can give me +Happiness: Ah, would you would!--With you, _Antonio_, I must remain +unhappy, wretched, cursed: Thou art my Hell; Don _Henrique_ is my +Heaven. And thou art mine, (returned he) which here I part with to my +dearest Friend. Then taking her Hand, Pardon me, _Antonio_, (pursued he) +that I thus take my last Farewel of all the Tastes of Bliss from your +_Ardelia_, at this Moment. [At which Words he kiss’d her Hand, and gave +it to Don _Antonio_; 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, _Antonio_, (cry’d _Henrique_:) Be very tender of her; +To-morrow early I shall hope to see thee.--_Ardelia_ (pursued he) All +Happiness and Joy surround thee! May’st thou ne’er want those Blessings +thou can’st give _Antonio_!--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 +_Antonio’s_ Arms; who, though he was happy that he had her fast there, +yet was obliged to call in his Cousin, and _Ardelia’s_ Attendants, e’er +she could be perfectly recovered. In the mean while Don _Henrique_ 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 _Antonio_, 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 _Antonio_. 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 _Henrique_ something more +particularly than hitherto, about this Matter: To which she readily +agreed, upon the Promise that Don _Henrique_ 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, _Henrique_ told her, +that he would make use of her Father Don _Richardo’s_ Coach, in which +they came to Don _Antonio’s_, for so small a Time: which they did, +leaving only _Eleonora_ her Attendant with her, with out 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, Don _Henrique_, +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 _Antonio_ told Don _Henrique_, 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 _Antonio_) after you had practis’d foully and basely on her. +Not at all! (returned _Henrique_) 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, _Henrique_? (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 _Antonio_, 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 _Antonio_ fell, and said, dying, +‘Forgive me, _Henrique_! 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! (_returned Don +Henrique+_) 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 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 _Richardo’s_ with all imaginable Speed; +where he arriv’d in little more than half an Hour’s Time, and was +received by _Ardelia’s_ 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 _Richardo_ sent for an +eminent and able Surgeon, who probed and dress’d Don _Henrique’s_ +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, _Ardelia’s_ 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 _Henrique_ gave him a perfect and +pleasant Account, since he heard that Don _Antonio_, his mortal Enemy, +was killed; the Assurance of whose Death was the more delightful to him, +since, by this Relation, he found that _Antonio_ was the Man, whom his +Care of his Daughter had so often frustrated. Don _Henrique_ had hardly +made an End of his Narration, e’er a Servant came hastily to give +_Richardo_ 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 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 _Henrique_ lay there undiscover’d, +till his Cure was perfected. + +In the mean time _Ardelia_, 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 +_Henrique’s_ Life, seemed a little to revive her; but the Severity of +_Antonio’s_ 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 _Richardo_ was +constrain’d to leave her under the Care of the good Lady Abbess, and to +the diligent Attendance of _Eleonora_, 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 _Henrique_, which was the first +he made in a Month’s Time, and that by Night _incognito_, 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 _Henrique_, 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 _Italy_, to avoid the Prosecution of _Antonio’s_ +Friends. Thither she pursu’d him; nor could he any way 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 _Seville_ 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 _Ardelia_; with her he prevail’d, +and with Gold obliged her to Secrecy and Assistance: Which proved so +successful, that he understood from _Ardelia_ 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. + +Don _Sebastian_, who still pursu’d him with a most implacable Hatred, +had traced him even to _Italy_, and there narrowly missing him, posted +after him to _Toledo_; so sure and secret was his Intelligence! As soon +as he arriv’d, he went directly to the Convent where his Sister _Elvira_ +had been one of the Profess’d, ever since Don _Henrique_ had forsaken +her, and where _Ardelia_ had taken her repented Vow. _Elvira_ had all +along conceal’d the Occasion of her coming thither from _Ardelia_; and +tho’ she was her only Confident, and knew the whole Story of her +Misfortunes, and heard the Name of Don _Henrique_ 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 _Henrique_ came +to the Convent with _Ardelia_ and _Antonio_, 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 _Sebastian_ 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 _Ardelia_, 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 +passionately in Love with him, and continu’d her Passion till about the +fourteenth Year of her Empire, when unfortunate _Antonio_ first began +his Court to her. Don _Sebastian_ 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 _Ardelia_ felt her former Passion renew; which proceeded and +continued with such Violence, that it utterly defac’d the Ideas of +_Antonio_ and _Henrique_. (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 _Henrique_, she communicates the very same +to Don _Sebastian_, and agreed with him to make use of them on that very +Night, wherein she had obliged Don _Henrique_ to attempt her +Deliverance: The Hour indeed was different, being determined to be at +eleven. _Elvira_, 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 _Henrique_, who he told +her lay somewhere absconded in _Toledo_, 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 _Henrique_ as follows, the fatal Hour not being then +seven Nights distant. + + Don _Henrique_, + + _My 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, +Henrique+, your +Ardelia+ is dearer to you than your Life: + But your Life, your dear Life, is more desired than any Thing in + this World, by_ + + Your injur’d and forsaken + + _ELVIRA_. + +This she delivered to _Richardo’s_ Servant, whom _Henrique_ had gained +that Night, as soon as she came to visit _Ardelia_, at her usual Hour, +just as she went out of the Cloister. + +Don _Henrique_ was not a little surprized with this _Billet_; however, +he could hardly resolve to forbear his accustom’d Visits to _Ardelia_, +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 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. + +The dreadful Hour wanted not a Quarter of being perfect, when Don +_Henrique_ came; and having fixed his Rope-Ladder to that Part of the +Garden-Wall, where he was expected, _Ardelia_, 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 _Henrique_ eagerly waited to receive her. She came at last, and flew +into his Arms; which made _Henrique_ cry out in a Rapture, _Am I at last +once more happy in having my +Ardelia+ in my Possession!_ She, who knew +his Voice, and now found she was betray’d, but knew not by whom, +shriek’d out, _I am ruined! help! help!--Loose me, I charge you, ++Henrique!+ Loose me!_ At that very Moment, and at those very Words, +came _Sebastian_, attended by only one Servant; and hearing _Henrique_ +reply, _Not all the Powers of Hell shall snatch you from me_, 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 +_Ardelia’s_ Body, who only said, _Ah, wretched Maid!_ and drop’d from +_Henrique’s_ 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 _Sebastian_ been amazed at this dreadful Mistake of his Sword; but +presently recollecting himself, he flew with redoubled Rage to attack +_Henrique_; and his Servant had seconded him, had not _Henrique’s_, 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: _Ah, my +Ardelia+, I come to thee now!_ (_Sebastian_ groan’d +out,)--_’Twas this unlucky Arm, which now embraces thee, that killed +thee._ _Just Heaven!_ (she sigh’d out,)--_Oh, yet have Mercy!_ [Here +they both dy’d.] _Amen_, (cry’d _Henrique_, dying) _I want it most_-- +_Oh, +Antonio+!_ _Oh, +Elvira+! Ah, there’s the Weight that sinks +me down.--And yet I wish Forgiveness.--Once more, sweet Heaven, have +Mercy!_ He could not out-live that last Word; which was echo’d by +_Elvira_, who all this while stood weeping, and calling out for Help, as +she stood close to the Wall in the Garden. + +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 _Ardelia_. The injur’d and +neglected _Elvira_, 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. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE LUCKY MISTAKE. + + + + + TO GEORGE GREENVIEL, ESQ; + + Sir, + +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 _Ben_ says, _That +none can judge of Wit but Wit._ Let the _Heroes_ 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 +_Kings_ and _Heroes_, when ’ere your delicate Fancy shall put you upon +the Poetical Creation. + +You can make those _Heroes_ 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. + +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 _Muses_ 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. + +’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. + +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, + + Your most obliged and + most humble servant + A. Behn. + + + + +THE LUCKY MISTAKE: A NEW NOVEL. + + +The River _Loyre_ 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 _Orleans_, 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 _Horace_ says, in a little House and a +large Garden. Count _Bellyaurd_, for so was this Nobleman call’d, was of +this Opinion; and the rather, because he had one only Son, called +_Rinaldo_, 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: _Bellyaurd_ 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. + +In the very next House, which join’d close to that of _Bellyaurd’s_, +there lived another Count, who had in his Youth been banished the Court +of _France_ for some Misunderstandings in some high Affairs wherein he +was concern’d: his Name was _De Pais_, 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 _De Pais_ 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 _France_, 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. + +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. + +There lived in a neighbouring Town, a certain Nobleman, Friend to _De +Pais_, call’d Count _Vernole_, 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 worthy Services against the _Hugonots_, and by +the high Favour of Cardinal _Mazarine_, 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 _Vernole_ to go to the Court, to which he daily hoped an +Invitation or Command. + +_Vernole’s_ Fortune being hitherto something a-kin to that of _De Pais_, +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 _De +Pais_ would ask Counsel of _Vernole_, how best he should dispose of his +Daughters, which now were about their ninth Year the eldest, and eighth +the youngest. _Vernole_ had often seen those two Buds of Beauty, and +already saw opening in _Atlante’s_ Face and Mind (for that was the Name +of the eldest, and _Charlot_ the youngest) a Glory of Wit and Beauty, +which could not but one Day display it self, with dazling Lustre, to the +wondring World. + +_Vernole_ was a great Virtuoso, of a Humour nice, delicate, critical and +opinionative: he had nothing of the _French_ 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 lov’d to live and act +contrary to the Custom and Usage of all Mankind besides. + +He was infinitely delighted to find a Man of his own Humour in _De +Pais_, 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 _French_ +Quality; who allow all Freedoms, which to _Vernole’s_ rigid Nature, +seem’d as so many Steps to Vice, and in his Opinion, the Ruiner of all +Virtue and Honour in Womankind. _De Pais_ 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 _Vernole_ was the chief. + +_Vernole_ never appear’d before _Atlante_ (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 _De +Pais_ would (laughing) say, ‘He might as well entertain _Atlante_ with +_Greek_ and _Hebrew_,’ he would reply gravely, ‘You are mistaken, Sir, +I find 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 _Atlante_ capable of the noble +Virtues of the Mind, and am infinitely mistaken in my Observations, and +Art of Physiognomy, if _Atlante_ 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.’ _De Pais_ was extremely overjoy’d to hear such Good prophesied +of _Atlante_, and from that Time set a sort of an Esteem upon her, which +he did not on _Charlot_ his younger; whom, by the Persuasions of +_Vernole_, he resolv’d to put in a Monastery, that what he had might +descend to _Atlante_: not but he confess’d _Charlot_ 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 _De Pais_ very +well, who was easily persuaded, since he had not a Fortune to marry her +well in the World. + +As yet _Vernole_ had never spoke to _Atlante_ 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 _Atlante_, 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Atlante_, +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 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 _Charlot_ 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 _Atlante_ would discreetly reply, ‘If I must grant all you +say of Count _Vernole_ 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 +_Atlante_ thought as ill of the Count as her Sister, yet in Respect to +him, she would not own it. + +_Atlante_ 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 _Atlante_, 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 _Bellyaurd_ +was one of those wise Parents; and timely Prevention, as he thought, of +_Rinaldo’s_ falling in Love with _Atlante_, perhaps was the Occasion of +his being so: He had before heard of _Atlante_, 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 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 _Nun_, or with the Severity of a _Spaniard_. And tho’ he had a +Chamber, which had a jutting Window, that look’d just upon the Door of +Monsieur _De Pais_, 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 _our Lady_. Thither then young +_Rinaldo_ 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Atlante_: she was with +her Sister _Charlot_, who was very handsome, but not comparable to +_Atlante_. 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 _Atlante_ 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 hers down +into her Bosom, or on her Book, and blush as if she had done a Fault. +_Charlot_ perceiv’d all the Motions of _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_, ‘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 +_Atlante_ 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 _Charlot_, that what she said was +not to his Disadvantage, and by the Blushes of _Atlante_, that she was +not displeas’d with what was spoken to her; he perceiv’d the young one +importunate with her; and _Atlante_ 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, _Atlante_ left the Church, and it +being very fair Weather, she walk’d home. _Rinaldo_, who saw her going, +felt all the Agonies of a Lover, who parts with all that can make him +happy; and seeing only _Atlante_ 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 so much Courage +to his Heart, as to speak to _Atlante_; but before he did so, _Charlot_ +looking behind her, saw _Rinaldo_ very near to ’em, and cry’d out with a +Voice of Joy, ‘Oh! Sister, Sister! look where the handsome _Monsieur_ +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 _Monsieur Bellyaurd_.’ At this _Atlante_ could not +forbear, but before she was aware of it, turn’d her Head, and look’d on +_Rinaldo_; 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Bellyaurd_, +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.’ _Atlante_ +made no reply to this, but blush’d and bow’d: But _Charlot_ 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 +_Rinaldo_) 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 _Atlante’s_; and I no sooner saw her, but my Heart +told me it was she.’ ‘Heart! (said _Charlot_ laughing) why, do Hearts +use to speak?’ ‘The most intelligible of any thing, (_Rinaldo_ reply’d) +when ’tis tenderly touch’d, when ’tis charm’d and transported.’ At these +Words he sigh’d, and _Atlante_, to his extreme Satisfaction, blush’d. +‘Touch’d, charm’d, and transported, (said _Charlot_) 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 _Rinaldo_) 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 _Rinaldo_) 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 _Rinaldo_) 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 _Charlot_) that I am afraid this is your Case.’ ‘Yes, Madam, +(reply’d _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_, (reply’d he, sighing again) I ador’d her Character; +but now I have seen her, I die for her.’ ‘For me, Sir! (said _Atlante_, +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 +_Rinaldo_) there are none that tell you so, who do not 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 _Rinaldo_.’ +‘Perhaps (said _Atlante_) of all those who tell me of Dying, there are +none that tell me of it with so little Reason as _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante!_ 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 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 _Rinaldo_, +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 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.’ + +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 wondred how his Stars +came so kind, to make him in one hour at once see _Atlante_, 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 _Atlante_. These Joys and +Fears were his Companions all the Night, in which he took but little +Rest. Nor was _Atlante_ without her Inquietudes: She found _Rinaldo_ +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 _Rinaldo’s_ 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 _Rinaldo_ had +a thousand Charms: It tells her, 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 _Orleans_, 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 _Vernole_, 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 _Atlante_ assum’d, +made her appear the more charming to him: so that if _Atlante_ 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 _De Pais_, +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 _Atlante’s_ Face, which +was not usual, proceeded from some Discovery of Passion, which his Eyes +had made, or now and then a 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. + +_Rinaldo_, after a restless Night, was up very early in the Morning; and +tho’ he was not certain of seeing his adorable _Atlante_, 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 _De Pais’s_ +Balcony, where he had not remain’d long, before he saw the pretty +_Charlot_ come into it, not with any design of seeing _Rinaldo_, but to +look and gaze about her a little. _Rinaldo_ saw her, and made her a very +low Reverence, and found some disorder’d Joy on the sight of even +_Charlot_, since she was Sister to _Atlante_. 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 _Atlante_, how much he +ador’d her.’ ‘I am very glad, (replyed _Charlot_) 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 +_Atlante_ wish’d she should, he besought her to become his Advocate; and +since she had no Brother, to 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 _Atlante_; 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 _Atlante_ this following Letter: + + _RINALDO_ to _ATLANTE_. + + _If 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 +Atlante+! 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_ + + Your Eternal Adorer, + _Rin. Bellyaurd_. + +He having writ and seal’d this, toss’d it into the Balcony to _Charlot_, +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; +_Vernole_ having taken _De Pais_ into the Garden, to discourse him +concerning the sending _Charlot_ to the Monastery, which Work he desir’d +to see perform’d, before he declar’d his Intentions to _Atlante_: for +among all his other good Qualities, he was very avaricious; and as fair +as _Atlante_ was, he thought she would be much fairer with the Addition +of _Charlot’s_ Portion. This Affair of his with Monsieur _De Pais_, gave +_Charlot_ an opportunity of delivering her Letter to her Sister; who no +sooner drew it from her Bosom, but _Atlante’s_ 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 _Charlot_ had that Letter? Who replyed with Joy, ‘From the fine +young Gentleman, our Neighbour.’ At which _Atlante_ 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 _Atlante_) to save your Credit with +Monsieur _Rinaldo_, I will read it’: Which she did, and finish’d with a +Sigh. While she was reading, _Charlot_ 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: + + _ATLANTE_ to _RINALDO_. + + _+Charlot+, 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 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_ + + Atlante. + +She gave this Letter to _Charlot_; who immediately ran into the Balcony +with it, where she still found _Rinaldo_ 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 +_Atlante_, 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 +_Atlante’s_ 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 _Atlante_, 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 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 _Atlante_. +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 _Charlot_; who, young +as she was, had conceiv’d a great Friendship for _Rinaldo_, 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, _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Charlot_ came thither: and because they durst not come +out without a Footman or two, they taking one, sent him with a +_How-do-ye_ 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 _Rinaldo_, 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. + +As soon as they were come into the Pleasure-Boat, unseen of any, he +kneel’d at the Feet of _Atlante_, and there utter’d so many passionate +and tender Things to her, with a Voice so trembling and soft, with Eyes +so languishing, 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, 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 _Atlante_ 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. + +_Charlot_ 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 _Rinaldo_ call’d her down to eat; +where they enjoy’d themselves, as well as was possible: and _Charlot_ +was wondring to see such a Content in their Eyes. + +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 _Charlot_ call’d +Count _Vernole_, whose Severity put their Father on a greater +Restriction of them, than naturally he would do of himself. At the Name +of this Count, _Rinaldo_ chang’d Colour, fearing he might be some Rival; +and ask’d _Atlante_, if this _Vernole_ 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 _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_) 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. + +She said, she believed she need not fear any such Persecution, since he +was a Man who was not at all amorous; 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 assur’d him her Father had never yet propos’d +any Marriage to her, tho’ many advantageous ones were offer’d him every +Day. + +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; _Rinaldo_ +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 _Atlante_. + +It was past Church-time two or three Hours, when they arrived at home, +wholly unprepar’d with an Excuse, so absolutely was _Atlante’s_ 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. _De Pais_ came towards ’em, and with a frowning Look demanded +where they had been? _Atlante_, who was not accustom’d to Excuses and +Untruth, was a while at a stand; when _Charlot_ with a Voice of Joy +cry’d out, ‘Oh Sir! we have been a-board of a fine little Ship’: At this +_Atlante_ 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 ----, 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 ---- 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 _Vernole_, who had been inspiring _De Pais_ 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Charlot_ to a Nunnery: and accordingly the next day he bid her +prepare to go. _Charlot_, 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. _Atlante_ was troubled at her Departure, +because she had no body to bring and to carry Letters between _Rinaldo_ +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. + +_Atlante’s_ Chamber was that to which the Balcony 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 _Rinaldo_ notice of this, she could not +tell; who not knowing _Charlot_ 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 _Atlante_ 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: + + _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. +Farewel+._ + +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. + +But old _Bellyaurd_ 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: _Bellyaurd_ 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 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 _Atlante_, 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 _Paris_, that by Absence he might forget the young Beauty +that had charm’d his Youth. Therefore, without letting _Rinaldo_ 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 +_Paris_. 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 _Orleans_, 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 +_Atlante_ will share in his Misfortunes also: This Thought gives him a +double Torment, and yet he finds no Way to evade it. + +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 +_Atlante_ 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 _Atlante_, 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! _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_.’ At this Tears +stopped her Speech, and she could utter no more. ‘No, my dearest Charmer +(reply’d _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_) let Fate do +her worst, so she still continue _Rinaldo_ 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 _Atlante_.’ ‘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 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 _Paris_, 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 them, that he should come the +next Night into her Chamber. + +It happen’d that Night, as it often did, that Count _Vernole_ lay with +Monsieur _De Pais_, which was in a Ground-Room, just under that of +_Atlante’s_. As soon as she knew all were in bed, she gave the word to +_Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_ 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 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 +_Atlante_, 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 +_Vernole_, whom Love and Contrivance kept waking, fancy’d several times +he heard a Noise in _Atlante’s_ Chamber. And whether in passing over the +Balcony, _Rinaldo_ 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. +_Atlante_ 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 _Vernole’s_ 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 _Ariadne_ and _Theseus_. 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 +_Atlante_, who no more dreamt of him than of a Devil, had possibly have +rather seen the last. She gave a great Shriek, which frighted _Vernole_; +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 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Vernole_ 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, _It was safe +sleeping in a whole Skin_; and possibly he apprehended as much Danger +from this _Virago_, 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 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. + +After this, he appear’d more submissive and respectful towards +_Atlante_; and she carry’d herself more reserv’d and haughty towards +him; which was one Reason, he would not yet discover his Passion. + +Thus the Time run on at _Orleans_, while _Rinaldo_ found himself daily +languishing at _Paris_. 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 +_Rinaldo_ 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 +_Atlante_. 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 _Orleans_, stay’d at a little Village, till the Darkness of the +Night might favour his Design: And then walking about _Atlante’s_ +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 +_Atlante_, 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 _Paris_ 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 _Orleans_ and _Paris_, between Excess of Grief, and Excess of +Joy by turns. + +It was now that _Atlante_, arrived to her fifteenth Year, shone out with +a Lustre of Beauty greater than ever; and in this Year, in the Absence +of _Rinaldo_, 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 _Vernole_, 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 _De Pais_ 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.’ + +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 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 +_Atlante’s_ 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 +_Vernole_, who he knew would be impatient to learn what Success he had, +and what himself was to hope. _De Pais_, 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. + +But _Atlante_, who resolved to die a thousand Deaths rather than break +her solemn Vows to _Rinaldo_, or to marry the Count, cast about how she +should avoid it with the least Hazard of her Father’s Rage. She found +_Rinaldo_ 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 _Vernole_, 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, 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: + + _ATLANTE_ to _RINALDO_. + + _My Father’s Authority would force me to violate my sacred Vows to + you, and give them to the Count +Vernole+, 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 +Rinaldo+, + I will die rather than consent to marry any other: Therefore come my + +Rinaldo+, and come quickly, to see my Funerals, instead of those + Nuptials they vainly expect from_ + + Your Faithful + _ATLANTE_. + +This Letter _Rinaldo_ receiv’d; and there needed no more to make him fly +to _Orleans_: 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 _Atlante_, +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 _Atlante’s_ 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, 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. + +The next Day, at Dinner, Monsieur _Bellyaurd_ 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 _Vernole_ with _Atlante_, the Match being +agreed on: ‘No, Sir (reply’d _Rinaldo_) I shall never dance at the +Marriage of Count _Vernole_ with _Atlante_; and you will see in Monsieur +_De Pais’s_ 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. _Bellyaurd_ rose in a Fury, and told him, ‘He had rather see him +in his Grave, than in the Arms of _Atlante_: 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 _Rinaldo_ could say. On the other side the Day being +come, wherein _Atlante_ was to give her final Answer to her Father +concerning her Marriage with Count _Vernole_; 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 _Vernole_, since she was Wife to +_Rinaldo_, only son to _Bellyaurd_.’ If her Father storm’d before, he +grew like a Man distracted at her Confession; and _Vernole_ hearing them +loud, ran to the Chamber to learn the Cause; where just as he enter’d he +found _De Pais’s_ Sword drawn, and ready to kill his 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 _Atlante_ had confess’d; which put +_Vernole_ 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 _De Pais_ forgot his own to appease his, but ’twas in +vain, for he went out of the House, vowing Revenge to _Rinaldo_: 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 _Swiss_ and _Spanish_ Soldiers to +attend him in the nature of Footmen; and watch’d several Nights about +_Bellyaurd’s_ Door, and that of _De Pais’s_, believing he should some +time or other see him under the Window of _Atlante_, 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 _Spaniard_ than a _Frenchman_ in his Nature, he +resolv’d to take him any way unguarded or unarm’d, if he came in his +Way. + +_Atlante_, 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 +_Rinaldo_ 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 _Vernole_ 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 _Vernole’s_ Bravoes; and +himself standing at a distance cry’d out, ‘That is he’: With that they +all drew on both sides, and _Rinaldo_ receiv’d a Wound in his Arm. +_Atlante_ heard this, and ran crying out, ‘That _Rinaldo_, prest by +Numbers, would be kill’d.’ _De Pais_, who was reading in his Closet, +took his Sword, and ran out; and, contrary to all Expectation, seeing +_Rinaldo_ 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 +_Rinaldo_, gave ground, and sheer’d off; and _De Pais_, putting up old +_Bilbo_ into the Scabbard, went into his House, where he found _Rinaldo_ +almost fainting with loss of Blood, and _Atlante_, with her Maids +binding up his Wound; to whom _De Pais_ said, ‘This charity, _Atlante_, +very well becomes you, and is what I can allow you; and I could wish you +had no other Motive for this Action.’ _Rinaldo_ 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 _De Pais_, telling him, ‘He had now a double +Obligation to pay him all the Respect in the World; first, for his being +the Father of _Atlante_; 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.’ _De Pais_ 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 +_Atlante_, 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 _Atlante_ to Count +_Vernole_.’ _Rinaldo_, who before he spoke took measure from _Atlante’s_ +Eyes, which told him her Heart was his, return’d this Answer to _De +Pais_, ‘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 _Atlante_, the greatest Happiness he could wish would be +his receiving _Charlot_ from his Hand; but that he could not think of +quitting _Atlante_, how necessary soever it would be, for Glory, and +his--(the further) Repose.’ _De Pais_ 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 _Atlante_ retir’d, and so he went to bed full of Thoughts. This +Night had increas’d his Esteem for _Rinaldo_, and lessen’d it for Count +_Vernole_; 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 +_Rinaldo_, which troubled him very much. At last he resolv’d, that +neither might take any thing ill at his Hands, to lose _Atlante_, 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 _Atlante_, 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 _Vernole_ and _Rinaldo_. + +The Noise of _Atlante’s_ being inclos’d, was soon spread all over the +busy Town, and _Rinaldo_ 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 +_Atlante_, that he swore he would see his Son die of them, rather than +suffer him to marry _Atlante_; 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 _Atlante_ +would never consent to be shut up in a 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 _Atlante_, he had +still a kind Advocate in _Charlot_, who was now arriv’d to her +Thirteenth Year, and infinitely advanc’d in Wit and Beauty. _Rinaldo_ +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 _Charlot_; 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 _Atlante_ 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 _Vernole_, who had Liberty to see her when +he pleas’d: If it happen’d that they chanc’d to meet in the Daytime, +tho’ _Vernole_ was attended with an Equipage of Ruffians, and _Rinaldo_ +but only with a couple of Footmen, he could perceive _Vernole_ shun him, +grow pale, and almost tremble with Fear sometimes, and get to the other +Side of the Street; and if he did not, _Rinaldo_ having a mortal Hate to +him, would often bear up so close to him, that he would jostle him +against the Wall, which _Vernole_ 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 _Rinaldo_ 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 Town, that the two old Gentlemen were mightily +alarm’d by it; and Count _Bellyaurd_ came to _De Pais_, one Day, to +discourse with him of this Affair; and _Bellyaurd_, for the Preservation +of his Son, was almost consenting, since there was no Remedy, that he +should marry _Atlante_. _De Pais_ confess’d the Honour he proffer’d him, +and how troubled he was, that his Word was already past to his Friend, +the Count _Vernole_, whom he said she should marry, or remain for ever a +Nun; but if _Rinaldo_ could displace his Love from _Atlante_, and place +it on _Charlot_, he should gladly consent to the Match. _Bellyaurd_, 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 _Vernole’s_ Assassinates, who would +never leave him till they had dispatch’d him, should he marry _Atlante_. + +While _Rinaldo_ was contriving a thousand ways to come to speak to, or +send Billets to _Atlante_, none of which could succeed without the Aid +of _Charlot_, his Father came and propos’d this Agreement between _De +Pais_ and himself, to his Son. At first _Rinaldo_ 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 _Charlot_, +and so consequently at _Atlante_: he therefore, after some dissembled +Regret, consents, with a sad put-on Look: And _Charlot_ had Notice given +her to see and entertain _Rinaldo_. As yet they had not told her the +Reason; which her Father would tell her, when he came to visit her, he +said. _Rinaldo_ over-joy’d at this Contrivance, and his own +Dissimulation, goes to the Monastery, and visits _Charlot_; 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 +_Atlante_; which she readily did, to the unspeakable Joy of the poor +Distrest. Sometimes he would talk to _Charlot_ of her own Affairs; +asking her, if she 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. + +Things past thus for some Days, in which our Lovers were happy, and +_Vernole_ assur’d he should have _Atlante_. But at last _De Pais_ came +to visit _Charlot_, who ask’d her, if she had seen _Rinaldo_? She +answer’d, ‘She had.’ ‘And how does he entertain you? (reply’d _De Pais_) +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 _Charlot_; and both to +confess what she had done for him to her Sister, she hung down her +blushing Face to study for an Answer. _De Pais_ continued, and told her +the Agreement between _Bellyaurd_ and him, for the saving of Bloodshed. + +She, who blest the Cause, whatever it was, having always a great +Friendship and Tenderness for _Rinaldo_, 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. + +And the next Day, when _Rinaldo_ came to visit her, as he us’d to do, +and bringing a Letter with him, wherein he propos’d the flight of +_Atlante_; he found a Coldness in _Charlot_, 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. + +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 _Atlante_: She is +obstinate, and he as pressing, with all the Tenderness of Persuasion: He +vows he can never be any but _Atlante’s_, and she may see him die, but +never break his Vows. She urges her Claim 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 +_Charlot_ 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. + +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 +_Atlante_, he esteems her of all Womankind. She seems to be obliged by +this, and assured him, she would hasten the Flight of _Atlante_; and +taking leave, he went home to order a Coach, and some Servants to assist +him. + +In the mean time Count _Vernole_ came to visit _Atlante_; but she +refused to be seen by him: And all he could do there that Afternoon, was +entertaining _Charlot_ at the Grate; to whom he spoke a great many fine +Things, both of her improved Beauty and Wit; and how happy _Rinaldo_ +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. + +_Rinaldo_, 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, _Vernole_ came by the End of the Wall to go home; and looking +about, he saw, at the other End, _Rinaldo_ 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 _Vernole’s_ 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 +_Atlante_. + +In the mean Time it grew dark, and _Rinaldo_’s Coach came with another +Footman; which were hardly arrived, when _Vernole_, with his Assistants, +came to the Corner of the Wall, and skreening themselves a little behind +it, near to the Place where _Rinaldo_ stood, who waited now close to a +little Door, out of which the Gardeners used to throw the Weeds and +Dirt, _Vernole_ could perceive anon the Door to open, and a Woman come +out of it, calling _Rinaldo_ by his Name, who stept up to her, and +caught her in his Arms with Signs of infinite Joy. _Vernole_ being now +all Rage, cry’d to his Assassinates, ‘Fall on, and kill the Ravisher’: +And immediately they all fell on. _Rinaldo_, 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 +_Rinaldo_ was fighting, and beaten back by the Bravoes, one of which he +laid dead at his Feet, _Vernole_ 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 _Rinaldo_, 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 _Charlot_, and not +_Atlante_, whom _Vernole_ had brought Home: At which _Vernole_ 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 _Charlot_) +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 _Atlante_; and +promising him my Assistance in his Amour, since he could never be mine, +he got me to carry a Letter to _Atlante_; 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 +_Rinaldo_. Tho’ they press’d me, yet I resolv’d to pursue my Design, +which was to tell _Rinaldo_ she would obey his kind Summons. He waited +for her; but I put my self into his Hands in lieu of _Atlante_; 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 _Rinaldo_, 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 _Vernole_ found it touch’d his +Heart; and the rather because he found _Atlante_ would never be his; or +if she were, he should be still in Danger from the Resentment of +_Rinaldo_: he therefore bowing to _Charlot_, 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 _Charlot_, 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.’ _De Pais_ transported with Joy, to find +all Things would be so well brought about, it being all one to him, +whether _Charlot_ or _Atlante_ gave him Count _Vernole_ for his +Son-in-law, readily consented; 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. + +All this was perform’d in as short a time as _Rinaldo_ 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. + +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. + +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 _De Pais’s_ 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 _Vernole_ was this Night married to Monsieur +_De Pais’s_ 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 _Vernole’s_ Wedding, where +there was a perfect Peace agreed on between them, and all their +Animosities laid aside. At this News _Rinaldo_ 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 _Rinaldo_, 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 _Atlante_ married +to Count _Vernole_, 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 +_Atlante_.’ 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 _Vernole_, but ’tis +not _Atlante_ to whom he is married, but _Charlot_; who was the Person +you were bearing from the Monastery, instead of _Atlante_, 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 +_Atlante_. _Rinaldo_ 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 _Atlante_ to +him, to confirm his Happiness. + +It must only be guessed by Lovers, the perfect Joy these two receiv’d in +the sight of each other. _Bellyaurd_ received her as his Daughter; and +the next Day made her so, with very great Solemnity, at which were +_Vernole_ and _Charlot_: Between _Rinaldo_ and him was concluded a +perfect Peace, and all thought themselves happy in this double Union. + + + + +NOTES: The Lucky Mistake. + + +p. 351 This Dedication only appears in the first edition (12mo, 1689), +‘for R. Bentley’. George Granville or Grenville,[1] 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 _The She +Gallants_ (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 _Once a Lover and +Always a Lover_. _Heroick Love_, a tragedy (1698), had great success. +_The Jew of Venice_ (1701), is a piteously weak adaption of _The +Merchant of Venice_. A short masque, _Peleus and Thetis_ accompanies the +play. _The British Enchanters_, 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 _Works_ (2 Vols., 4to, 1732; and +again, 3 Vols., 1736, 12mo). He died 30 January, 1735, and is buried in +St. Clement Danes. + +p. 398 _double Union_. In a collection of Novels with running title: +_The Deceived Lovers_ (1696), we find No. V _The Curtezan Deceived_, ‘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. _The Curtezan Deceived_ 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. + + [Footnote 1: The spelling ‘Greenvil’ ‘Greenviel’ is incorrect.] + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE UNFORTUNATE BRIDE; OR, THE BLIND LADY A BEAUTY. + + + + + TO RICHARD NORTON, OF SOUTHWICK IN HANTSHIRE, ESQUIRE. + + Honour’d Sir, + +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. + +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. + +This I hope, Sir, will induce you to pardon my Presumption in dedicating +this Novel to you, and declaring my self, Sir, + + Your most obedient + and most humble Servant, + S. Briscoe. + + + + +THE UNFORTUNATE BRIDE: or, The Blind Lady a Beauty. + + +_Frankwit_ and _Wildvill_, were two young Gentlemen of very considerable +Fortunes, both born in _Staffordshire_, 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. _Wildvill_ was of the richest Family, but _Frankwit_ of +the noblest; _Wildvill_ was admired for outward Qualifications, as +Strength, and manly Proportions, _Frankwit_ 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 aimable he was, that every Virgin +that had Eyes, knew too she had a Heart, and knew as surely she should +lose it. His _Cupid_ 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 _Apollo_; their loved Springs and Fountains +were not so grateful to their Eyes as he, him they esteemed their +_Helicon_ and _Parnassus_ too; in short, when ever he pleased, he could +enjoy them all. Thus he enamour’d the whole Female Sex, but amongst all +the sighing Captives of his Eyes, _Belvira_ 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 _Belvira_ 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 _London_ to a Friend, +her Mother being lately dead: When, as if Fortune ordered it so, +_Frankwit’s_ 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 _Belvira’s_ Eyes, but (Master of seventeen Hundred +Pounds a Year, which his Father left him) with all the Wings of Love +flies to _London_, and sollicits _Belvira_ with such Fervency, that it +might be thought he meant Death’s Torch should kindle _Hymen’s_; 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 there were Pulses beating in their Eyes; and all +endearing, at last she vowed, that _Frankwit_ 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. + +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 +_Belvira_ 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 _Belvira’s_ 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 _Pontick_ 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 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: ‘_Frankwit_, 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 _Belvira_,’ he replied, ‘That one, like +_Manna_, 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 _Belvira_, ‘we are all like Perfumes, and too continual Smelling +makes us seem to have lost our Sweets, I’ll be judged by my Cousin +_Celesia_ here, if it be not better to live still in mutual Love, +without the last Enjoyment.’ (I had forgot to tell my Reader that +_Celesia_ was an Heiress, the only Child of a rich _Turkey_ 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 _Celesia_, (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 _Frankwit_, ‘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 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.’ + +‘Ah! I must confess,’ reply’d _Belvira_, ‘my poor, dear Cousin is Blind, +for I fancy she bears too great an Esteem for _Frankwit_, and only longs +for Sight to look on him.’ ‘Indeed,’ reply’d _Celesia_, ‘I would be glad +to see _Frankwit_, 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 _Frankwit_, ‘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 _Belvira_, ‘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 _Venus_, Blind like her +Brother _Cupid_.’ ‘That _Cupid_,’ reply’d _Celesia_, ‘I am afraid has +shot me, for methinks I would not have you marry _Frankwit_, 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 _Frankwit_, ‘Love is no Camelion, it cannot feed on Air alone.’ +‘No but,’ rejoyn’d _Celesia_, ‘you Lovers that are not Blind like Love +it self, have am’rous Looks to feed on.’ ‘Ah! believe it,’ said +_Belvira_, ‘’tis better, _Frankwit_, 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 _Frankwit_, but a Dream, and to be +waken’d.’ ‘Ah! Dearest, but unkind _Belvira_,’ answer’d _Frankwit_, +‘sure there’s no waking from Delight, in being lull’d on those soft +Breasts of thine.’ ‘Alas! (reply’d the 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 _Belvira_’, answered _Frankwit_, ‘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 _Belvira_, fir’d by this Complaint, +and gently rush’d into Arms, (rejoyn’d) so _Phœbus_ rushes radiant and +unsullied, into a gilded Cloud. ‘Well then, my dear _Belvira_,’ answered +_Frankwit_, ‘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 +_Cambridgeshire_, 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 _Belvira_ to shed some few +Tears, and poor _Celesia_ 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 hardly ever end, and _Frankwit_ (the Time being +Summer) reach’d _Cambridge_ 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 _Belvira_; 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 _Pegasus_ was no way tir’d +with his Land-travel, takes a short Journey thro’ the Air, and writes as +follows: + + _My dearest dear +Belvira+,_ + + You knew my Soul, you knew it yours before, + I told it all, and now can tell no more; + Your Presents never wants fresh Charms to move, } + But now more strange, and unknown Pow’r you prove, } + For now your very Absence ’tis I love. } + Something there is which strikes my wandring View, + And still before my Eyes I fancy you. + Charming you seem, all charming, heavenly fair, } + Bright as a Goddess, does my Love appear, } + You seem, _Belvira_, what indeed you are. } + Like the Angelick Off-spring of the Skies, + With beatifick Glories in your Eyes: + Sparkling with radiant Lustre all Divine, } + Angels, and Gods! oh Heavens! how bright they shine! } + Are you _Belvira_? can I think you mine! } + Beyond ev’n Thought, I do thy Beauties see, + Can such a Heaven of Heavens be kept for me! + Oh be assur’d, I shall be ever true, + I must---- + For if I would, I can’t be false to you. + Oh! how I wish I might no longer stay, } + Tho’ I resolve I will no Time delay, } + One Tedious Week, and then I’ll fleet away. } + Tho’ Love be blind, he shall conduct my Road, } + Wing’d with almighty Love, to your Abode, } + I’ll fly, and grow Immortal as a God. } + Short is my stay, yet my impatience strong, + Short tho’ it is, alas! I think it long. + I’ll come, my Life, new Blessings to pursue, } + Love then shall fly a Flight he never flew, } + I’ll stretch his balmy Wings; I’m yours,--_Adieu_. } + + _Frankwit._ + +This Letter _Belvira_ 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: + + _My dear Charmer,_ + + You knew before what Power your Love could boast, + But now your constant Faith confirms me most. + Absent Sincerity the best assures, } + Love may do much, but Faith much more allures, } + For now your Constancy has bound me yours. } + I find, methinks, in Verse some Pleasure too, + I cannot want a Muse, who write to you. + Ah! soon return, return, my charming Dear, + Heav’n knows how much we Mourn your Absence here: + My poor _Celesia_ now would Charm your Soul, + Her Eyes, once Blind, do now Divinely rowl. + An aged Matron has by Charms unknown, + Given her clear Sight as perfect as thy own. + And yet, beyond her Eyes, she values thee, + ’Tis for thy Sake alone she’s glad to see. + She begg’d me, pray remember her to you, + That is a Task which now I gladly do. + Gladly, since so I only recommend } + A dear Relation, and a dearer Friend, } + Ne’re shall my Love--but here my Note must end. } + + _Your ever true +Belvira+._ + +When this Letter was written, it was strait shown to _Celesia_, who +look’d upon any Thing that belong’d to _Frankwit_, 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 _Frankwit_.’ 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 _Frankwit_ was now +ravished with the Receipt of this charming Answer of _Belvira’s_, and +blest his own Eyes which discovered to him the much welcome News of fair +_Celesia’s_. Often he read the Letters o’re and o’re, but there his Fate +lay hid, for ’twas 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: _Enjoy her did I say? Enjoy the Devil in the Flesh +at once!_ I know not how it was, but he would fain have been a Bed with +her, but she not consenting on unlawful Terms, (_but sure all Terms are +with her unlawful_) 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 _Moorea_) an +Estate of six thousand Pounds _per Ann_. Now this _Moorea_ observed the +joyous _Frankwit_ 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 _Frankwit_ +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 _Moorea_ 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 _Moorea_ 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 _Belvira_, and _Celesia_ +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 _Moorea_, black in her mind, and dark, as well as in her +body. _Frankwit_ 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 _Wildvill_, (who I told my Reader was +_Frankwit’s_ friend) came to _London_, his Father likewise dead, and now +Master of a very plentiful fortune, he resolves to marry, and paying a +visit to _Belvira_, enquires of her concerning _Frankwit_, she all in +mourning for the loss, told him his friend was dead. ‘Ah! _Wildvill_, 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 _Frankwit_.’ ‘Oh! I am sorry at my Soul,’ said +_Wildvill_, ‘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 _Field Argent_ into downright _Sables_.’ ‘’Twas done,’ returned +_Celesia_, ‘with no small blot, I fancy, to the Female ’Scutcheon.’ In +short, after some more discourse, but very sorrowful, _Wildvill_ takes +his leave, extreamly taken with the fair _Belvira_, more beauteous in +her cloud of woe; he paid her afterwards frequent visits, and found her +wonder for the odd inconstancy of _Frankwit_, greater than her sorrow, +since he dy’d so unworthy of her. _Wildvill_ attack’d her with all the +force of vigorous love, and she (as she thought) fully convinc’d of +_Frankwit’s_ 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 _Frankwit_ (for he still +liv’d) knew nothing of the Injury the base _Moorea_ 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 +_Belvira_, tho’ yet extremely weak, rid post to _London_, 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 _Cambridge_, and +having some small acquaintance with this Blackmoor Lady, and sitting in +her Room that evening, after _Frankwit’s_ departure thence, in +_Moorea’s_ 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 _Belvira_ subscrib’d, +I began to guess there was some foul play in Hand. _Belvira_ 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 _Belvira_ 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 _Frankwit_, 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 _Frankwit_; he looked so pale, new risen from his +Sickness, he (for he had heard at his Entrance in the House, that his +_Belvira_ marry’d _Wildvill_) 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. _Wildvill_ missing his +Bride, and hearing the loud Shriek, came running down, and entring the +Room, sees his Bride lie clasp’d in _Frankwit’s_ Arms. ‘Ha! Traytor!’ He +cries out, drawing his Sword with an impatient Fury, ‘have you kept that +Strumpet all this while, curst _Frankwit_, 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 +_Frankwit_, and run him thro’ the left Arm, and quite thro’ the Body of +the poor _Belvira_; that thrust immediately made her start, tho’ +_Frankwit’s_ 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 _Frankwit_ seeing her +fall, (all Friendship disannull’d by such a Chain of Injuries) Draws, +fights with, and stabs his own loved _Wildvill_. Ah! Who can express the +Horror and Distraction of this fatal Misunderstanding! The House was +alarm’d, and in came poor _Celesia_, running in Confusion just as +_Frankwit_ was off’ring to kill himself, to die with a false Friend, and +perjur’d Mistress, for he suppos’d them such. Poor _Celesia_ now +bemoan’d her unhappiness of sight, and wish’d she again were blind. +_Wildvill_ dy’d immediately, and _Belvira_ only surviv’d him long enough +to unfold all their most unhappy fate, desiring _Frankwit_ 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 _Celesia_, and love her tenderly for her _Belvira’s_ 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 +_Celesia’s_ Hands, she poured her last breath upon his Lips, and said, +‘Dear _Frankwit_, _Frankwit_, 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. + + + + +NOTES: The Unfortunate Bride. + + +p. 401 _To Richard Norton._ This Epistle Dedicatory is only to be found +in the first edition of _The Unfortunate Bride; or, The Blind Lady a +Beauty_, ‘Printed for Samuel Briscoe, in Charles-Street, Covent-Garden, +1698’, and also dated, on title page facing the portrait of Mrs. Behn, +1700. + +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 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 _The Spanish Friar_ was performed in the frater +of Southwick Priory,[1] the buildings of which had not been entirely +destroyed at the suppression. Colley Cibber addresses the Dedicatory +Epistle (January, 1695) of his first play, _Love’s Last Shift_ (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. + + [Footnote 1: The house was one of Black (Austin) Canons.] + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE DUMB VIRGIN; OR, THE FORCE OF IMAGINATION. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +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 _The Dutch Lover_. _Vide_ Note on the Source of +that play, Vol. I, p. 218. + +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. + +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 _Gesta Romanorum_. There is an old +English poem[1] on the subject, and it also received lyric treatment at +the hands of the German meistersinger, Hartmann von Aue. An Italian +story, _Il Figliuolo di germani_, the chronicle of St. Albinus, and the +Servian romaunt of the Holy Foundling Simeon embody similar +circumstances. + +Matteo Bandello, Part II, has a famous[2] 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 +_Heptameron_. 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.[3] + +Bandello was imitated in Spanish by J. Perez de Montalvan, _Sucesos y +Prodigios de Amor--La Mayor confusion_; in Latin by D. Otho Melander; +and he also gave Desfontaines the subject of _L’Inceste Innocent; +Histoire Véritable_ (Paris, 1644). A similar tale is touched upon in +_Amadis de Gaule_, and in a later century we find _Le Criminel sans le +Savoir, Roman Historique et Poëtique_ (Amsterdam and Paris, 1783). It +is also found in Brevio’s _Rime e Prose_; Volgari, novella iv; and in +T. Grapulo (or Grappolino), _Il Convito Borghesiano_ (Londra, 1800). +A cognate legend is _Le Dit du Buef_ and _Le Dit de la Bourjosee de +Rome_. (ed. Jubinal, _Nouveau Recueil_; and _Nouveau Recueil du Sénateur +de Rome . . ._ ed. Méon.) Again: the _Leggenda di Vergogna, etc. testi +del buon secolo in prosa e in verso_, edited by A. D’Ancona (Bologna, +1869) repeats the same catastrophe. It is also related in Byshop’s +_Blossoms_. + +In Luther’s _Colloquia Mensalia_, 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 _Heptameron_ quotes from Millin, _Antiquités +Nationales_ (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:-- + + Cy-gist la fille, cy-gist le père, + Cy-gist la soeur, cy-gist le frère; + Cy-gist la femme, et le mary, + Et si n’y a que deux corps icy. + +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:-- + + Ci git le fils, ci git la mère, + Ci git la fille avec le père, + Ci git la soeur, ci git le frère, + Ci git la femme et le mari, + Et ne sont pas que trois corps ici. + +When Walpole wrote his tragedy, _The Mysterious Mother_ (1768), he +states he had no knowledge of Bandello or the _Heptameron_, 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.’ + +The same story occurs in the writings of the famous Calvinistic divine, +William Perkins (1558-1602), sometime Rector of St. Andrew’s, Cambridge. +Thence it was extracted for _The Spectator_. + +In Mat Lewis’ ghoulish romance, _The Monk_ (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. + +There is a tragic little novel, ‘_The Illegal Lovers; a True Secret +History._ 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 _Love Letters between a +Nobleman and his Sister_. + + [Footnote 1: There are three MSS. _Vernon MS._, Oxford, edited by + Horstmann; _MS. Cott_, _Cleop. D. ix_, British Museum; _Auchinleck + MS._, Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh, edited with glossary by + F. Schultz, 1876.] + + [Footnote 2: cf. Masuccio. _Il Novellino_, No. 23.] + + [Footnote 3: Bandello’s novels first appeared at Lucca, 4to, 1554. + Marguerite of Angoulême died 21 December, 1549. The _Heptameron_ + was composed 1544-8 and published 1558.] + + + + +THE DUMB VIRGIN: or, the Force of Imagination. + + +_Rinaldo_, a Senator of the great City _Venice_, 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 _Italy_, 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. + +There stands an Island in the _Adriatick_ Sea, about twenty Leagues from +_Venice_, 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 _Italy_ +and _Greece_, 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 +_Venice_ for Trade. Among others _Rinaldo’s_ Lady begged her Husband’s +permission to view this so much celebrated place. + +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, _Rinaldo_ 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 +_Gaspar_; and for their greater security against Pyrates, had obtained +his Brother, who commanded a _Venetian_ Galley, to attend them as +Convoy. In the evening they set out from _Venice_, 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 _Turkish_ +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; but the heaviest load of misfortunes lay on +_Rinaldo’s_ 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 _Gasper_, +begging him to use all Endeavours in its Preservation, by owning it for +his, when they fell into the Hands of the Enemy. + +But _Gasper_, 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 _Rinaldo’s_ 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 _Turks_; 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 +_Turk_ 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 _Venetian_ Galley, which bore down upon +them, whilst they were taking aboard their Spoil; this Galley was that +commanded by _Rinaldo’s_ Brother, which cruising that Way in quest of +the Barge, happily engag’d the _Turk_, 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. + +All the greater Dangers over, _Rinaldo’s_ 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 _Gasper_; 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 _Gasper_ 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. + +This Misfortune was soon lessen’d by the growing Hopes of another +Off-spring, which made them divest their 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 _Venice_, 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. + +_Rinaldo_, 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. + +The Eldest, called _Belvideera_, was indefatigably addicted to Study, +which she had improv’d so far, that by the sixteenth Year of her Age, +she understood all the _European_ Languages, and cou’d speak most of’em, +but was particularly pleas’d with the _English_, 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 herself, she delivered her +Sentiments with that easiness and grace of Speech, that it charm’d all +her Hearers. + +The Beauties of the second Sister, nam’d _Maria_, 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 _Italy_ 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. + +In the seventeenth of _Belvideera’s_, and sixteenth Year of _Maria’s_ +Age, _Francisco_, Brother to _Rinaldo_, was made Admiral of the +_Venetian_ Fleet, and upon his first Entrance upon his Command, had +obtained a signal Victory over the _Turks_; he returning to _Venice_ +with Triumph, applause and spoil, presented to the great Duke a young +_English_ Gentleman, who only as a Volunteer in the Action, had +signalized himself very bravely in the Engagement, but particularly by +first boarding the _Turkish_ Admiral Galley, and killing her Commander +hand to hand; the Fame of this Gentleman soon spread over all _Venice_, +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 _English_ 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 _Belvideera_ invited me +to Accompany her and _Maria_, 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 Gentleman in a rich _English_ Dress; I show’d him to +_Belvideera_, 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 _Belvideera_ 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.’ + +‘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 merit Heaven, if I may be blest in your Divine +Conversation.’ _Belvideera_ 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 +_Italian_, that I began to mistrust my _Englishman_, wherefore taking +some Occasion to jest upon his Habit, I found ’twas only a Masquerade to +cloak a down-right _Venetian_; in the mean Time, we perceiv’d a +Gentleman Gallantly attir’d with no Disguise but a _Turkish_ Turbant on, +the richliest beset with Jewels I ever saw; he addressed _Maria_ with +all the Mien and Air of the finest Courtier; he had talked to her a good +while before we heard him, but then _Belvideera_, knowing her poor +Sister uncapable of any Defence, ‘Sir, (said she to the _Venetian_,) +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 _Belvideera_ 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 _Belvideera_) 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 _Belvideera_ laying hold of, as an Occasion of Railery, +‘Sir, (said she,) your Tongue pronounces you a great Stranger in this +Part of 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 _Turkish_ 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 _Turkish_ Admiral Galley.’ We were all surpriz’d, knowing +him then the young _English_ Gentleman, we were so curious of seeing; +_Belvideera_ presently talk’d _English_ 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 _Maria’s_ 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 _Venetian_ coming up, ‘pray give me leave to share in +your Misfortunes.’ ‘Sir, (said _Belvideera_ 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 _Venetian_ 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 _Venetian_, ‘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 +_English_ Gentleman turning from the _Venetian_) 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 _Belvideera_) you’re his Rival +in Honour, not in Love.’ ‘In honourable Love I am, Madam,’ answer’d the +Stranger. ‘I’ll try,’ (said the _Venetian_, going off in Choler,) he +Whisper’d a little to a Gentleman, that stood at some Distance, and +immediately went out; this was _Gonzago_, a Gentleman of good Reputation +in _Venice_, his Principles were Honour and Gallantry, but the Former +often sway’d by Passions, rais’d by the Latter. All this while, _Maria_ +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 _English_ +Gentleman, as I ever saw Step in the _Mall_. + +Poor _Maria_ 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: _Belvideera_ 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 _Venice_, +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 _Dangerfield_, 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, _Dangerfield_ begg’d Leave to attend us to our Coach, +and waiting us to the Door, the Gentleman, whom _Gonzago_ whisper’d, +advanc’d and offer’d his Service to hand _Maria_; she declin’d it, and +upon his urging, she turn’d to the other Side of _Dangerfield_, 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 _Venetian_ 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. _Dangerfield_ returned the Justle so vigorously, that the +_Venetian_ fell down the Descent of some Stairs at the Door, and broke +his Sword: _Dangerfield_ 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. _Mark’s_ +Church, he wou’d satisfie him for the Loss of his Sword; upon which, the +_Venetian_ immediately went off, cursing his ill Fate, that prevented +his quarrelling with _Dangerfield_, 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 _Gonzago_ an Account, when he whisper’d him at +the Ball. _Dangerfield_ left us full of his Praises, and went home to +his Lodgings, where he found a Note directed to him to this Effect: + + SIR, + + _You 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. +Mark’s+ Church, where I + shall be ready to fall a Sacrifice to both._ + + Gonzago. + +_Dangerfield_, 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, 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 _Gonzago’s_ +Challenge to him imported; this Disturbance employed his Thought till +Morning, when rising and dressing himself very richly, he walked to the +appointed Place. _Erizo_, who was the Gentleman whose Sword he had +broke, was in the Place before him; and _Gonzago_ entered at the same +Time with him. _Erizo_, was surprized to see _Gonzago_, as much as he +was to find _Erizo_ there. ‘I don’t remember, Friend (said _Gonzago_) +that I desired your Company here this Morning.’ ‘As much as I expected +yours,’ answered _Erizo_. ‘Come, Gentlemen, (said _Dangerfield_, +interrupting them) I must fight you both, it seems: which shall I +dispatch first?’ ‘Sir, (said _Erizo_) you challeng’d me, and therefore I +claim your Promise.’ ‘Sir, (reply’d _Gonzago_) he must require the same +of me first, as I challenged him.’ Said _Erizo_, ‘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 +_Gonzago_) my Love and Honour being laid at Stake, first claims his +Blood; and therefore, Sir, (continued he to _Dangerfield_) defend +yourself.’ ‘Hold (said _Erizo_ interposing,) if you thrust home, you +injure me, your Friend.’ ‘You have forfeited that title, (said _Gonzago_ +all in Choler,) and therefore if you stand not aside, I’ll push at you.’ +‘Thrust home then, (said _Erizo_) and take what follows.’ They +immediately assaulted each other vigorously. ‘Hold, Gentlemen, (said +_Dangerfield_ striking down their Swords) by righting your selves you +injure me, robbing me of that Satisfaction, 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 _Erizo_. ‘I’m your Man,’ (said _Gonzago_) parrying +the Thrust made at _Erizo_. The Clashing of so many Swords alarm’d some +Gentlemen at their _Mattins_ in the Church, among whom was _Rinaldo_, +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. _Gonzago_ and _Erizo_ knowing +_Rinaldo_, gave him an Account of the Matter, as also who the Stranger +was. _Rinaldo_ was overjoy’d to find the brave _Britain_, 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.’ _Gonzago_ and _Erizo_ 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. +_Dangerfield_, on _Rinaldo’s_ farther Request, accompanied him to his +House. + +_Maria_ 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 _Dangerfield_ +were approaching the Gate, at the same Instant she cast her Eyes upon +_Dangerfield_, and he accidentally look’d up to the Window where she +stood, their Surprize was mutual, but that of _Dangerfield_ the greater; +he saw such an amazing Sight of Beauty, as made him doubt the Reality of +the Object, 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 _Venus_ caught in +_Vulcan’s_ Net, but ’twas the Spectator, not she, was captivated. This +_Dangerfield_ 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 _Rinaldo’s_ 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.’ _Rinaldo_ wou’d have sent for a +Surgeon to have it searched. ‘Your pardon, Sir, (said _Dangerfield_) my +Indisposition proceeds from an inward Malady, not by a Sword, but like +those made by _Achilles’s_ Spear, nothing can cure, but what gave the +Wound.’ _Rinaldo_ 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 _Dangerfield’s_ 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. _Dangerfield_ needed none of these Motives +to stay, being detained by a secret Inclination to the Place; walking +therefore into the Library, _Rinaldo_ went to the Senate. _Dangerfield_ +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 _Tantalus_ 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. + +In the mean Time, _Maria_ 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 nearer Despair; +her Sister was gone that Morning with her Unkle, the Admiral, about two +Miles from _Venice_, to drink some Mineral Waters, and _Maria_ 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 _Dangerfield’s_ +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 _Dangerfield_, 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 _Dangerfield’s_ 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 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: + + _You can’t my Pardon, nor my Anger move. + For know, alas! I’m dumb, alas! I love._ + +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 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: _Dangerfield_ 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 +_Belvideera’s_ coming Home, who running up Stairs, called, ‘Sister, +Sister, I have News to tell you’: Her Voice alarms _Maria_, who fearing +the Jealousy of _Belvideera_, shou’d she find _Dangerfield_ in her +Bed-Chamber, made Signs that he shou’d run into the Closet, which she +had just lock’d as _Belvideera_ came in: ‘Oh, Sister! (said +_Belvideera_) in a lucky Hour went I abroad this Morning.’ In a more +lucky Hour stay’d I at home this Morning, thought _Maria_. ‘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 _English_ Gentleman we saw at the Ball yesterday; +but the greatest News of all is, that this fine _English_ 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.’ +_Maria_ 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. _Belvideera_ was +extreamly glad of her Resolution, hoping that she shou’d enjoy +_Dangerfield’s_ 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: + +_Gonzago_ and _Erizo_, parting from _Rinaldo_ and _Dangerfield_, had +walk’d towards the _Rialto_, and both exasperated that they had missed +their intended Revenge against _Dangerfield_, 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, (_Erizo_, hold) stopt their Fury to see whence it +proceeded; when a Coach driving at full Flight stopt close by them, and +_Francisco_ the _Venetian_ Admiral leaped out with his Sword drawn, +saying, ‘Gentlemen, pray let me be an Instrument of Pacification: As for +your part, _Erizo_, 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.’ _Erizo_, +unwilling to disoblige his Admiral, upon whose Favour his Advancement +depended, told _Gonzago_, 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.’ +_Erizo_ therefore related to him the whole Affair, and mentioning that +_Dangerfield_ was gone Home to Dine with _Rinaldo_; ‘With _Rinaldo_ my +Father?’ said _Belvideera_ from the Coach, overjoy’d with Hopes of +seeing _Dangerfield_ at Home. ‘Yes, (reply’d _Gonzago_ surpriz’d) if +_Rinaldo_ the Senator be your Father, Madam.’ ‘Yes, he is,’ reply’d +_Belvideera_. _Gonzago_ then knew her to be the Lady he was enamour’d +of, and for whom he wou’d have fought _Dangerfield_; and now cursed his +ill Fate, that he had deny’d _Rinaldo’s_ 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 _Rinaldo’s_ House, I bear a great Esteem for him, and so it +behoves every loyal _Venetian_, for whose Service he hath been so +signal.’ _Erizo_, unwilling to deny the Admiral, and _Gonzago_ 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. + +_Rinaldo_ in the mean Time was not idle in the Senate, there being a +Motion made for Election of a Captain to the _Rialto_ Galleon, made void +by the Death of its former Commander in the late Fight, and which was +the Post designed by the Admiral for _Erizo_. _Rinaldo_ catching an +Opportunity of obliging _Dangerfield_, 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 _Turks_, 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 _Erizo_ by +future Preferment; but _Erizo_, 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 _Rinaldo_, and arrived whilst _Belvideera_ was talking above Stairs +with her Sister. _Rinaldo_, impatient to communicate his Success to +_Dangerfield_, ran into the Study, where he left him; but missing him +there, went into the Garden, and searching all about, returned to the +Company, telling them he believ’d _Dangerfield_ 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 +_Belvideera_ came down, making an Apology for her Sister’s Absence, +thro’ an Indisposition that had seized her. _Gonzago_ had his wished for +Opportunity of entertaining his Mistress, whilst she always expecting +some News of _Dangerfield_, sat very uneasie in his Company; whilst +_Dangerfield_ 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. _Maria_ 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 +_Maria_ knowing that her Sister was engag’d in a Match at Cards with her +Father, _Gonzago_ and _Erizo_, the Admiral being gone, she came softly +to the Closet, and innocently took _Dangerfield_ 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, 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 _Crisis_ of his Fate been so near. The Company by +this Time had gone off, and _Belvideera_ had retir’d to her Chamber, +melancholy that she had missed her Hopes of seeing _Dangerfield_. +_Gonzago_ and _Erizo_ going out of the Gate, saw _Dangerfield’s_ +Footman, whom they knew, since they saw him with his Master in the +Morning. _Gonzago_ asked him why he waited there? ‘For my Master, Sir,’ +reply’d the Footman. ‘Your Master is not here sure,’ said _Gonzago_. +‘Yes, but he is, Sir,’ said the Servant, ‘for I attended him hither this +Morning with _Rinaldo_, and saw him in the Afternoon look out of a +Window above Stairs.’ ‘Ha!’ said _Gonzago_, calling _Erizo_ 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. _Erizo_, _Erizo_, 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 to Night.’ ‘By Hell (answered _Erizo_) 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. _Dangerfield_ 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 +_Gonzago_ in the Breast; when _Rinaldo_ hearing the Noise, came out; but +too late for _Dangerfield’s_ Relief, and too soon for his own Fate; for +_Gonzago_, exasperated by his Wound, ran treacherously behind +_Dangerfield_, and thrust him quite thro’ the Body. He finding the +mortal Wound, and wild with Rage, thrust desperately forward at _Erizo_, +when at the instant _Rinaldo_ striking in between to part them, received +_Dangerfield’s_ Sword in his Body, which pierced him quite thro’. He no +sooner fell, than _Dangerfield_ perceived his fatal Error, and the other +Two fled. _Dangerfield_ curs’d his Fate, and begg’d with all the Prayers +and Earnestness of a dying Man, that _Rinaldo_ wou’d forgive him. ‘Oh!’ +said _Rinaldo_, ‘you have ill rewarded me for my Care in your Concerns +in the Senate to Day.’ The Servants coming out, took up _Rinaldo_, and +_Dangerfield_ leaning upon his Sword, they led him in. _Belvideera_ +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 _Maria’s_ 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. _Belvideera_ sat wiping the +Blood from her Father’s Wound, whilst mournful _Maria_ sat by +_Dangerfield_, administring 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, _Rinaldo_ casting his +Eye upon him, perceiv’d the Mark of a bloody Dagger on his Neck, under +his left Ear: ‘Sir, (said _Rinaldo_, 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 _Cosmo_, who was lost in the +_Adriatick_.’ ‘How! (reply’d _Dangerfield_, starting up with a wild +Confusion) Lost! say’st thou in the _Adriatick_? Your Son lost in the +_Adriatick_?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said _Rinaldo_, ‘too surely lost in the +_Adriatick_.’ ‘O ye impartial Powers (said _Dangerfield_), 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 _Rinaldo_, ‘know that my suppos’d +Father, who was a _Turky_ 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 _Adriatick_ Sea, ty’d to two Planks in his Voyage from _Smyrna_ +to _London_; 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 _Venice_.’ _Belvideera_ 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.’ _Maria_ 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 Ligament that doubled in her Tongue, and she burst +out with this Exclamation; ‘Oh! Incest, Incest.’ _Dangerfield_ eccho’d +that Outcry with this, ‘O! Horror, Horror, I have enjoy’d my Sister, and +murder’d my Father.’ _Maria_ running distracted about the Chamber, at +last spy’d _Dangerfield’s_ 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 _Dangerfield’s_ +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 _Rinaldo’s_ 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 _Dangerfield_ 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 _England_, 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 +_Cla_--’ 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. _Francisco_ being sent for, had _Gonzago_ and +_Erizo_ apprehended, condemn’d, and executed. _Belvideera_ 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. + + + + +NOTES: The Dumb Virgin. + + +p. 429 _Dangerfield._ This name is not to be found in any one of Mrs. +Behn’s plays, but as it does occur in Sedley’s _Bellamira; or, The +Mistress_ (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 _Sir Patient Fancy_, where the ‘precise clerk’ is called both +Abel and Bartholomew. In _The Feign’d Curtezans_ Silvio and Sabina are +persistently confused, and again, in _The Town Fop_ (Vol. III, p. 15 and +p. 20), the name Dresswell is retained for Friendlove. Sedley’s +_Bellamira_ is derived from Terence’s _Eunuchus_, and Dangerfield is +Thraso; the Pyrgopolinices, Miles Gloriosus, of Plautus. + + +Cross-Reference from Introduction: _The Dumb Virgin_ + +Beginning: 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 _The Dutch Lover_. _Vide_ Note on +the Source of that play, Vol. I, p. 218. + + Vol. I, p. 218, beginning of “Source” section: + + Mrs. Behn founded the plot of _The Dutch Lover_ upon the stories + of Eufemie and Theodore, Don Jame and Frederic, in a pseudo-Spanish + novel entitled ‘_The History of Don Fenise_, 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. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE WANDERING BEAUTY. + + +I was 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 _Arabella’s_ Adventures, who was eldest Daughter to Sir _Francis +Fairname_, a Gentleman of a noble Family, and of a very large Estate in +the West of _England_, 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 +_Arabella_, and all very much alike; piously educated, and courtly too, +of naturally-virtuous Principles and Inclinations. + +’Twas about the sixteenth Year of her Age, that Sir _Robert Richland_, +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 _Francis_; 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 _Arabella’s_ Inclinations: This +made him at first use all the most powerful and perswading Arguments in +his Capacity, to convince Sir _Robert_ 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 _to lye by the Parchment that convey’d them to her_. +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 +commanded her to prepare her self for her Nuptials with Sir _Robert_; 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. + +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 _Robert_ 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. + +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 +_Francis_ 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 _Arabella’s_ 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 _Exeter_, with whom she had stay’d ’till she found she was +burthensome: That she was of _Welsh_ 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 _London_, 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 Time after, they went to their two several +Apartments, in one of which _Arabella_ 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 _Arabella_, 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 _Arabella_) +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 +two Pinners, 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.’ _Arabella_ +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 _London_, and begging a few green Wall-nuts, she took her +last Farewel of them. + +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 _London_. 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 _England_, 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 _London_. 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. + +Thus she continu’d her Errantry for above a Fortnight, having no more +Money than just thirty Shillings, half of which brought her to Sir +_Christian Kindly’s_ House in _Lancashire_. ’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 _Arabella_) 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 +_Somersetshire_. 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, _Arabella_, 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 +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 _Christian_ 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 _Christian_, who having discours’d _Arabella_ 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. _Arabella_ +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 +_Eleanora_, a Lady much about her Years and Stature; who was so charm’d +with her Conversation, that she could not stir Abroad, nor eat, nor +sleep, without _Peregrina Goodhouse_ (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 _Christian’s_ 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. _Prayfast_, 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 _Eleanora_. +_Prayfast_ 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. + +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 _Peregrina_, and withal 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 _Prayfast_, 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 _Jews_ 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 _Peregrina_, whom he happily found alone. Child, (said he to her) +have you any Obligation to Mr. _Prayfast_? 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 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 +_Peregrina_, blushing with Disdain, no doubt) our Families are by no +Means equal. What thy Family is, I know not; (said Sir _Christian_) 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 _Christian_ and _Prayfast_, as soon as ever Sir _Christian_ +left the Room. + +About a Week after, Sir _Lucius Lovewell_, (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_l._ a Year, which, +too, was an excellent Accomplishment, tho’ not the best; for he was +admirably good-humour’d) came to visit Sir _Christian Kindly_; and, as +some of the Family imagin’d, ’twas with Design to make his Addresses to +the young Lady, Sir _Christian’s_ 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 _Peregrina_. She was +very beautiful, and he as sensible; and ’tis not to be doubted, but that +he immediately took Fire. However, his Application and Courtship, free +and unaffected, were chiefly directed to Sir _Christian’s_ Daughter: +Some little Respects he paid to _Peregrina_, 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 +_Christian_ 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 +_Christian’s_, 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 _Peregrina_. 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 _Christian_, 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 +_Christian_ 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. + +The Table was no sooner clear’d, and a loyal Health or two gone round, +e’re Sir _Christian_ ask’d his young amorous Guest to take a Walk with +him in the Gardens: To which Sir _Lucius_ 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 thought he had +sufficiently admir’d and commended the Neatness of the Walks and Beauty +of the Flowers, he began, to this Effect: + +Possibly, Sir _Christian_, 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 _Eleanora_ your Daughter; but at the same +Instant I was seiz’d with so irresistable a Passion for the charming +_Peregrina_, 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 _honourable +Enjoyment_.--I will make her my Wife, Sir, if you will be generously +pleas’d to use your Interest with her on my Part. + +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 +_Peregrina_. 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 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, _by her dear +self_, (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. _Prayfast_. + +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 _Eleanora_, +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 _Peregrina_ 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 _Lucius_) 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 making my Court to your +Ladiship, first invited me to give Sir _Christian_, 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 _Christian’s_ 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 _Lucius_) +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 _Christian_ 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 _Lucius_. 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 +should begin about a Month or two afterwards; in which Time he might +send Orders to _London_ for the making their Wedding Cloaths. Into the +House then they all went, Sir _Lucius_ leading _Peregrina_, and the +first they met of the Family was _Prayfast_, who was not a little +surpriz’d nor discompos’d at that Sight; and more especially when Sir +_Christian_ 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. + +All Things were at last got ready for the Consummation of their Bliss, +and _Prayfast_ 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 _Christian’s_ House; after which they +adjourn’d to the Bridegroom’s, where it lasted as long as Sir +_Christian_, his Lady, Daughter, and the rest of that Family would stay. +As they were leaving him, Sir _Lucius_ dispos’d of two hundred Pounds +amongst Sir _Christian’s_ Servants, and the rest of the three hundred he +distributed among the Poor of both Parishes. + +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 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, _Peregrina_, +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). 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. + +In a few Days, Monday began the Date of their Journey to the _West_ of +_England_; and in five or six Days more, by the Help of a Coach and Six, +they got to _Cornwall_; 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 _Francis Fairname_ 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 _Lucius_, +fixing his Eyes upon his Face, 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 _Lucius_ 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. + +’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 _Francis_ 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 +_Francis_ 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 _Lucius_ 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 +Sight of the two Ladies, who were now exactly like his own Wife, though +not so very beautiful. + +The Table being uncover’d, Sir _Lucius_ desir’d to know why Sir +_Francis_ 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 _Lucius_) 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 _Lucius_. 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 _Arabella_. _Arabella_, Madam! alas! +No, Madam, her Name is _Peregrina_. 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 +_Lucius_) 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 _Francis_. So, without farther Ceremony, Sir _Lucius_ +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 _Francis Fairname_ and his Lady, +with all imaginable Expedition. So immediately, as soon as Coach and Six +and Equipage was ready, he hurry’d her away with him to Sir _Francis_, +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 +_Lucius_ 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 _Arabella_ alive! Ay, my dear offended Mother! with all the Duty and +Penitence that Humanity is capable of, return’d the Lady _Lovewell_. 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 +_Lucius_ seem’d to be: ’Twas late that Night e’er they went to Bed at +Sir _Francis’s_. The next Day, after they had all pretty well eas’d +themselves of their Passions, Sir _Francis_ told his Son-in-Law, that as +he had three Daughters, so he had 3000_l._ 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 +_Lucius_, 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 _Robert Richland_, has been dead these three +Months, on such a Day. How, Sir, (cry’d she) on such a Day! that was the +very Day on which I was so happy as to be marry’d to my dear Sir +_Lucius_. + +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 _Christian_ and his +Lady’s Hospitality and Kindness to her; and in less than a Fortnight +after, they took a Journey to Sir _Lucius’s_, carrying the two other +young Ladies along with ’em; and, by the Way, they call’d at Sir +_Christian’s_, where they arriv’d Time enough to be present the next Day +at Sir _Christian’s_ Daughter’s Wedding, which they kept there for a +whole Fortnight. + + _FINIS._ + + + + +NOTES: The Wandering Beauty. + + +p. 451 _two Pinners_. 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.’--_N.E.D._ cf. Pepys, 18 April, 1664: ‘To Hyde Park . . . and my +Lady Castlemaine in a coach by herself, in yellow satin and a +pinner on.’ + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + +THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE; OR, THE IMPIOUS VOW PUNISH’D. + + +The 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. + +Sir _Henry Hardyman_ was a Gentleman of a very large Estate in +_Somersetshire_, of a very generous Temper, hospitable almost to +_Extravagancy_; a _plain down-right Dealer, wonderfully good-natur’d_, +but very _passionate_: Whose Lady dying, left him only a Son and a +Daughter; between whom there were about six Years Difference in their +Age. _Miles Hardyman_ (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. _Miles_ 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. _Lucretia_, 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. + +At his Return to his Father in the Country, young _Hardyman_ found Madam +_Diana Constance_, a most beautiful Lady, with his Sister, at that Time +about 16 Years old; somewhat tall of her Age, of happy and virtuous +Education, 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 _Lucretia_ the Liberty of taking a small +Journey with _Diana_ to her House, which was not above 20 Miles thence, +where that young Lady’s Aunt govern’d in her Absence; for _Diana_ had no +other Relation, so near as she was, living in _England_, her only +Brother _Lewis_ having been in _Italy_ and _France_ ever since her +Father dy’d, which was then near five Years past. + +_Lucretia_, 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 _Lucretia’s_ Brother might bear ’em Company there for some little +Time; but old Sir _Henry_ 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 _Hardyman_ 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 _Constances_ was +as ancient and honourable as that of _Hardymans_, and was once endow’d +with as plentiful an Estate, tho’ now young _Lewis Constance_ had not +above 1200_l._ a Year. (O the unkind Distance that Money makes, even +between Friends!) + +Old ’Squire _Constance_ was a very worthy Gentleman, and Sir _Henry_ 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 _Constance’s_, 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 _Hardyman_ left ’em +to persue their Journey. + +In their Return to the House, said Sir _Henry_, 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. 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, +_Miles_; 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_l._ answer +to the Estate of near 4000_l._ a Year, which you must inherit if you +survive me? Beauty and Virtue, Sir, (return’d young _Hardyman_) 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 _Miles_) 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 _Hardyman_ than thy Father Sir +_Henry_.--Come, _Miles_, (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 _Henry_) but not as for a Wife; no, if you mean to continue in +your Father’s Love, be not in Love with Madam _Diana_, nor with any of +her Nymphs, tho’ never so fair or so chast--unless they have got Store +of Money, Store of Money, _Miles_. Come, come in, we’ll take a Game at +_Chess_ 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 _Checque-Mate_, 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 +_Henry_.) They began their Game then, and had made about six Moves +apiece before Dinner, which was serv’d up near 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. + +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. + +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 +_Lucretia_ to Sir _Henry_, and another to him, that held one inclos’d to +him from the beautiful _Diana_; the Words, as perfectly as I can +remember ’em, were these, or to this Effect: + + _My +Hardyman+,_ + + _Too 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, +That you will ever be mine, and none but mine. + --O boundless Blessing!+ --These (my Life) are the Dreams, which, + for six several Nights, have mock’d the real Passion of_ + + _Your forgotten +Diana+._ + +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 +_Constance_; 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 _Lucretia_, +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 _Diana_: + + Thou only Blessing for which I wish to live, + + _How 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 +Mercury+ 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)_ + + Your most sincere, and + Most passionate Lover, + _Hardyman_. + +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 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 _Hardyman_ 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 _Diana’s_ 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. + +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 the Jack for the Game, ’till young _Hardyman_ put in a bold Cast, +that beat all his Adversaries from the Block, 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, _Miles_, +thou hast carry’d the Day, and kiss’d the Mistress. I hope I shall +before ’tis dark yet, (return’d he.) Sir _Henry_ 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 _Hardyman_, 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 +_Goodlad_ to saddle their Horses, whilst he himself went up to his +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 _Constance’s_. + +’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 _London_: This +unfortunately happen’d to be _Lewis Constance_, just return’d from his +Travels, whom young _Hardyman_ 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 _Lewis_ 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 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 _Hardyman_ 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 _Hardyman_ 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. + + _SIR,_ + + _You 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, &c._ + +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 _Hardyman_ 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 Favour of him to let +one of his Servants carry a Letter from him, to one that was then at the +young Lady _Constance’s_: To which t’other readily agreed. The young +Gentleman then made him a Present of a Tobacco-Box, with the Head of +King _Charles_ 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 _Oliver’s Usurpation_. 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 _Constance’s_ the Night before the last. That +he should shew that Gentleman to the Field where young _Hardyman_, +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 _Lewis Constance_; 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 _Lucretia_ 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 _Lucretia_) I would beg a Cordial from you. For +that (said his Sister) you shall be oblig’d to me this once; saying so, +she gently turn’d _Lucretia’s_ Face towards him, and he had his Wish. +Ten to one, but he had rather continu’d with _Lucretia_, 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, which was +rewarded with another piece of Money; and he danc’d Home to the Sound of +the Money in his Pocket. + +No sooner was the Fellow out of Hearing, than _Lewis_, coming up to his +Adversary, shew’d him the Billet, and said, Sent you this to me, Sir? +I did, Sir, reply’d _Hardyman_: I never saw you ’till now, return’d +_Lewis_; how then could I injure you? ’Tis enough that I know it, +answer’d _Miles_. 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 _Constance_) 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 _Hardyman_ drawing) I could almost wish +thou wert my Friend: You speak generously, return’d _Lewis_, I find I +have to do with a Gentleman. Retire to a convenient Distance, said +_Hardyman_ to _Goodlad_. If you come near while we are disputing, my +Sword shall thank you for’t; and you, Sir, retire! said _Constance_ to +his Servant. And if you will keep your Life, keep your Distance! O my +brave Enemy! (cry’d _Miles_) Give me thy Hand! Here they shook Hands, +and gave one another the Compliment of the Hat, and then (said +_Hardyman_) Come on, Sir! I am with you, Sir, (reply’d _Lewis_ 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 on +either Side. But, at last, _Miles_ being taller and much stronger than +his Adversary, resolv’d to close with him; which he did, putting by a +Pass that _Lewis_ 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 _Hardyman_) thou art really brave. I will not put +thee to the Shame of asking thy Life. Alas! I cannot rise, (reply’d +_Lewis_, 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 _Miles_) 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 +_Diana_! Ha! (Cry’d _Constance_) O bloody Mistake! But could speak no +more for Loss of Blood. _Hardyman_ heard not those last Words, being +spoken with a fainting Voice, but in Haste mounted, and rode with all +Speed for _London_, attended by _Goodlad_; whilst _Constance’s_ 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 _France_ and _Italy_, 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, _Lewis_ charg’d his +Servant not to say which Way _Hardyman_ 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 _England_, for +Vengeance of your Death. ’Twas a Mistake on both Sides, I find; (said +_Lewis_) 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 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 +_Lucretia_ 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 +_Diana_) 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 _Lucretia_) +Yes, Madam (answer’d her Lover) and describ’d her Servant. Ah! my +Prophetic Fears (cry’d she) It was my Brother, attended by _Goodlad_. +Your Brother! Dearest and Fairest of your Sex, (said _Lewis_) Heaven +send him safely out of _England_ then! Nay, be he who he may, I wish the +same; for he is truly brave. Alas, my dear, my cruel _Hardyman_! (cry’d +_Diana_) Your _Hardyman_, Sister! (said _Lewis_) 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 _Lucretia_) 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, 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 _Harry Hardyman_ was below, and came to carry his Daughter Madam +_Lucretia_ 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 _Hardyman_ +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. _Lucretia_ 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 _Diana_) _Lucretia_ 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! _Lucretia_, Ha! (cry’d the old +Infidel) have a Care you pull not mine and Heaven’s Curse on your Head! +Believe me, Sir, (said _Diana_) 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) _presto_, 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 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 _Lewis_ went to travel, nor +before, to the best of my Memory; and I am confident, neither my Cousin +_Diana_, nor the Lady your Daughter, have seen him since they left him +with you, Sir--I wish, indeed, my dear Cousin _Lewis_ had not seen him +since. How! What’s that you say, good Lady? (ask’d the Knight) Is Mr. +_Lewis Constance_ then in _England_? And do you think that he has seen +him so lately? for your Discourse seems to imply as much. Sir _Henry_, +(reply’d the Aunt) you are very big with Questions, but I will endeavour +to satisfy you in all of ’em.--My Cousin _Lewis Constance_ is in +_England_; nay, more, he is now in his Chamber a-Bed, and dangerously, +if not mortally, wounded, by ’Squire _Miles Hardyman_, 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 _Lewis’s_ Servant +come in) do you remember his _French_ Servant _Albert_, whom he took +some Months before he left _England_?--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 _Henry_) +Almost as bad as when the ’Squire your Son left him, (reply’d _Albert_) +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 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 _Henry_) 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 _Lucretia_, +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 _Lewis’s_ 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 _Lucretia_! 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 _Hardyman_, (said he) you struck me +publickly before much Company, in the Face of my Companions.--Come, +(reply’d he for himself) ’Twas Passion, _Miles_, ’twas Passion; Youth is +guilty of many Errors, and shall not Age be allow’d their Infirmities? +_Miles_, 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 _Lewis_ to inform Sir _Harry_ +which Way his Son rode, were now afraid of proposing any such Thing to +him. Dinner was at last serv’d in, to which _Diana_ 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, _Albert_ 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: _Lewis_ was the first that +spoke, who, putting his Hand a little out of the Bed, said with a Sigh, +Sir _Henry_, 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 _Lewis_) ’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 _Henry_) I beseech you do not deny me. It must be a very +difficult Matter that you, Sir, shall not command of me, (reply’d +_Constance_.) 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 +_Bristol_ long e’re this, (return’d _Lewis_.) 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 _Lewis_) 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 +_Henry_.) I will leave that to your Discretion, Sir, (return’d +_Constance_.) 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-_Æsculapius_ 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 _Henry_ +was as joyful as _Lewis’s_ Sister, or as his own Daughter _Lucretia_, +who lov’d him perfectly, to hear the Wound was not mortal; and +immediately dispatch’d a Man and Horse to _Bristol_, 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 _London_. This put the old Gentleman into a +perfect Frenzy. He ask’d the Fellow, Why the Devil he did not give 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 _Diana_? 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 _Henry_, 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 _Henry_ still +persuing him, ’till he came to the Stables, where finding the Door open, +Sir _Henry_ 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 _Delirium_, or rather with an absolute Madness, +of which the Lady _Lucretia_ had Advice that same Night, 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 _Diana_, 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 _Delirium_ 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 _Henry_ 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 _Delirium_ +was not so great: In which, yet, she should often discover her Passion +for _Lewis Constance_, 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 _Constance_ was +able to undertake the Journey; which he did the very next Day; and he +and _Diana_ 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 Distemper. In a very short Time she left her +Bed, when Sir _Henry_, 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_l._ 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, _&c._ 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 _Lucretia_ +sitting close by him in Tears, he fetch’d a deep Sigh, which ended in a +pitious Groan, and call’d faintly, _Lucretia! Lucretia!_ 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 _Lucretia_, your dutiful, obedient, and affectionate +_Lucretia_, and most sorrowfully-afflicted Daughter. Bless her, Heaven! +(said the Father) I’m going now, (continu’d he weakly) O _Miles_! 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 _Miles_! Here he began to faulter in his Speech, +when the Lady gave a 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 _Miles_! +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 _England_ 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. + +From _Bristol_ he arriv’d to _London_ with his Servant _Goodlad_; to +whom he propos’d, either that he should return to Sir _Henry_, 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 _Goodlad_, but _Truelove_! And I am--_Lostall_! ’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 _Germany_, where then was the Seat of War. + +_Miles’s_ Person and Address soon recommended him to the chief Officers +in the Army; and his Friend _Truelove_ 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 _English_-men; +especially _Miles_, whom now we must call Mr. _Lostall_, who 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 _Truelove_ +was made his Lieutenant. The next Field-Fight _Truelove_ was kill’d, and +_Lostall_ 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, _England_; +which in a few Weeks he did, and appear’d at the _Tower_ to some of his +Majesty’s (King _Charles_ 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 _Tower_ 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: 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 _Tower_ 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. _Lostall_, 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 _Lostall_: 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 _Frank_ will do so much vor me, Zure: Wilt +not, _Frank_? (withal my Heart, _Tom_, reply’d his Comrade.) Here, +Friend, (said _Lostall’s_ 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 +_Lostall’s_ 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 _Lostall_) and chave a Fancy that you be and a +_West_-Country-Man, zure; (added he) you do a take zo like en; vor +_Mainly_ be our Country Word, zure. 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 _Lostall_) vor the +_Gun_ 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 _Lostall_ what +Country-Man he was? To whom the Soldier reply’d, That he was a +_Zomerzetshire_ Man, zure. Did’st thou never hear then of one Sir _Henry +Hardyman_? (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 _Miles Hardyman_, for whom he took him at first. +At that first Conference, _Miles_ told him his Name was honest _Tom +Lostall_; and that he had been a Souldier about five Years; having first +obtain’d the Dignity 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 _Miles_, if he should see him there at +Three in the Afternoon the next Day? _Miles_ 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 _Tower_, 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 _Miles_ a Broad piece to drink +more Wine ’till he came, if he pleas’d, and then parted ’till the next +Day. When his Friend was gone, _Miles_ 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. _Miles_ 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 _Gun_. The Gentleman went directly to the Lieutenant, and +desir’d the Liberty of an Hour or two for _Miles_, then _Tom Lostall_, +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 _Tom_ +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 _Miles_ along with him: When he came +to the trusty Centinel, he commanded the Boot to be let down, and +desir’d _Miles_ to come into the Coach, telling him, That the Officer +had given him Leave. Ah! Sir, (return’d _Miles_) 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 _Miles_, 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 _Leadenhall-street_; where, +after a Bottle or two, his Friend told _Miles_, that the Gentleman who +came with him in the Coach, had some Business with him in another Room. +_Miles_ 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 _Miles_) 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 _Miles_) 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 _Miles_) he is a Right Worshipful Gentleman; and ich caunt but +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 +_Miles_ when he should mount the Guard next? _Miles_ 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 _Miles_ 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 _Gun_, +or no? _Miles_ 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 _Miles_ 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, _Tom +Lostall_, 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 _Tom_. With his pleasing +Success he came to _Miles_, not forgetting then to take a Corporal with +him. At this second Invitation into the Coach, _Miles_ 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 +_Leadenhall-street_, 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 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: _Miles_ was amaz’d at +the Sight of all these Things, and kept his Eyes fix’d on ’em, ’till his +Friend cry’d, Come, _Tom_! 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. _Miles_ 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 _Tom_ to +undress. _Miles_ 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 _Valets de Chambre_; (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 _Valet de Chambre_ in _Paris_ could. When _Miles_ 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 _England_. Ah! Noble Sir! said +_Miles_. _Vine Feathers make vine Birds._ 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. +_Miles_ 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! 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 _Miles_ only, for the _Gun-Tavern_; 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: _Miles_ relating to his new Friend +all his Misfortunes Abroad, but still disguising the true Occasion of +his leaving _England_. 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 _Miles_, whom they mistook for another Friend of the +Gentleman’s that gave ’em the Invitation; not in the least imagining +that it was _Tom Lostall_. When they were all sat, the Captain ask’d, +Where is our trusty and well-beloved Friend Mr. _Thomas Lostall_? Most +honoured Captain! (reply’d _Miles_) I am here, most humbly at your +Honour’s Service, and all my other noble Officers. Ha! _Tom_! (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 _Tom_! (return’d his Officers, unanimously.) Come, +noble Gentlemen! (interrupted _Miles’s_ 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 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 _Tom Lostall_; 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, _&c._ ’till at length it grew late, their Stomachs grew +heavy, and their Heads light; when the Gentleman, _Miles’s_ Friend, +calling for a Bill, he found it amounted to seven Pounds ten Shillings, +odd Pence, which he whisper’d _Tom Lostall_ 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 _Miles_ had Money enough about him to discharge two such Bills: To +which _Miles_ 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. _Miles_ 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. +_Miles_ readily obey’d, and they were _Very Welcome, Gentlemen_. + +Now, honoured Captain, (said his Friend) and you, Gentlemen, his other +worthy Officers, be pleas’d to receive your Soldier, as Sir _Miles +Hardyman_, Bar., Son to the late Sir _Henry Hardyman_ of +_Somersetshire_, my dear and honoured Brother-in-Law: Who is +certainly--the most unhappy Wretch crawling on Earth! (interrupted +_Miles_) O just Heaven! (persu’d he) How have I been rack’d in my Soul +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 _Miles_ +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 _Henry_ 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 +_Miles_) 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 _Lewis Constance_, whom +once you unhappily mistook for your Rival. Unhappily, indeed: (return’d +_Miles_) I thought I had seen you before. Ay, Sir, (return’d +_Constance_) 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 for the Loss of so +dear a Father.--Take, take all, my Brother! (persu’d he, kissing +_Lewis’s_ 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 _Miles_, (cry’d his Captain) we grieve +for your Misfortune, and rejoice at your Happiness in so noble a Friend +and so just a Brother. _Miles_ 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 +_Constance_ saw him digging in the _Tower_-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, _Miles_! 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 _England_: +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, _Past one a Clock and a Star-light +Morning_; 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, my Father crying to me, _Miles_! Sleep, my _Miles_! 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 _Miles_) especially on a Tuesday Night, +a little after One, being the Twelth of _November_, New Style, I was +wak’d by a Voice, which (methought) cry’d, _Miles_, _Miles_, _Miles!_ +Get hence, go Home, go to _England_! 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 _Miles_ twice repeated,--hazard not thy Life here in a foreign +Service! Home! to _England_! to _England_! to _England_! 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, _Miles!_ _Miles!_ _Miles!_ _Miles!_ Go Home! Go to _England_! +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, _Miles_: 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 _England_. I saw 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 _England_? 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 +_Constance_ said, Did you ne’er dream of your Sister, Sir? Yes, often, +Brother, (return’d _Miles_) 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 _Lewis_) 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 _Miles_ +knows how to command himself, and may command us when he pleases. +Captain, Lieutenant, and Ensign, (reply’d Sir _Miles_) I am, and ever +will continue, during Life, your most dutiful Soldier, and your most +obedient and humble Servant. Thus they parted. + +As soon as _Constance_ was got within Doors, his Lady and Sir _Miles’s_ +Sister, who both did expect him that Night, came running into the Hall +to welcome him? 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 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 _Lewis_ had deliver’d all Sir _Henry’s_ Estate to Sir +_Miles_, and given him Bills on his Banker for the Payment of ten +thousand Pounds, being the Moiety of Sir _Miles’s_ Revenue for five +Years. Before they went to Church, Sir _Miles_, who then had on a rich +bridal Suit, borrow’d his Brother’s best Coach, and both he and _Lewis_ +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 _Miles_ better supply’d their +Places. + + + + +NOTES: The Unhappy Mistake. + + +p. 477 _the Jack_. The small bowl placed as a mark for the players to +aim at. cf. _Cymbeline_ II, i: ‘Was there ever man had such luck! when I +kissed the jack upon an up-cast to be hit away!’ + +p. 477 _the Block_. cf. Florio (1598). ‘_Buttino_, a maister or mistres +of boules or coites whereat the plaiers cast or playe; some call it the +blocke.’ + +p. 495 _vor Mainly be our Country Word, zure_. Wright, _English Dialect +Dictionary_, gives apposite quotations for ‘mainly’ from Gloucester, +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. 495 _the Gun_. A well-known house of call. 2 June, 1668, Pepys +‘stopped and drank at the Gun’. + +p. 496 _a Broad piece_. 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.’ + + + + + _Printed by A. H. BULLEN, at the Shakespeare Head Press, + Stratford-upon-Avon._ + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + +Errors and Inconsistencies (noted by transcriber) + +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. + +Unless otherwise noted, quotation marks are as printed. + + +_The Adventure of the Black Lady_ + + and order’d the Coach to drive [orderd] + [Notes] + [_See King of Bantam, below_] + +_The Court of the King of Bantam_ + + Appearances of Virtue, which he thought [be thought] + So she has (reply’d the titular Monarch): [_close ) missing_] + Come, Madam (continued he, kissing _Lucy_,) [_close ) missing_] + has oblig’d me beyond Imitation.’ [_close quote missing_] + And, (_S_) _Sim. Slyboots_. [_no . after “S”_] + [Notes: + _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._] + +_The Unfortunate Happy Lady_ + + he designs to gain your Ladyship’s Assistance [Ladship’s] + After she had taken her Money, and other Things of Value [Money,and] + the good old Gentleman returns Home [Gentlemen] + since she was assur’d, that if he marry’d her [asssur’d] + he was arrested, and thrown into a Goal [_spelling unchanged_] + The defeated Lovers knew not how to resent it? [_? in original_] + My Cousin _Eugenia_! (cry’d _Gracelove_!) [_! in original_] + +_The Fair Jilt_ + + [Introduction] + no such person as her ‘Prince Tarpuin of the race of the last Kings + of Rome’ + [_obvious error uncorrected because it may be in the quoted + original_] + [Dedication] + at least with a feign’d Civility [lest] + a sort of Coin, not currant in this Age [_spelling unchanged_] + [Text] + in all the finest Manners of Education [_f in “of” obscure_] + ‘She complains, in her Heart [_open quote missing_] + had not been sufficient of itself [_f in “of” obscure_] + from whose Mouth I had it.’ [_close quote missing_] + Which so extremely incensed _Alcidiana_, that she [the] + putting her self into the Hands of a wealthy Merchant [wealty] + the other End of which was to be fastned to the Gibbet + [_spelling unchanged: elsewhere “fasten’d”_] + holy Matters relating to the Life to come [to to come] + All his overjoy’d Friends [_elsewhere “over-joy’d” with hyphen_] + [Note to p. 174] + Barbadoes [Barbardoes] + +_Oroonoko; Or The Royal Slave_ + + [Introduction] + as Aphara tells her prose-epic [_spelling unchanged_] + [Text] + there is not to be seen an indecent Action [it not] + still answer’d what they thought conduc’d best [they they] + instead of giving me the comtemptible Whip [_spelling unchanged_] + let him speedly dispatch me [_spelling unchanged_] + [Notes] + [_The header for the “Oroonoko” notes is missing._] + +_Agnes De Castro_ + + [Introduction] + an aimable blue-stocking [_spelling unchanged_] + [Text] + if she had not perceived a Paper lying under his Hand [see] + the charming Qualities of your Person [Qualites] + unless expresly commanded by the Princess [_spelling unchanged_] + I fear you will never approve my Passion.’ [_close quote missing_] + Thus this Conversation ended. [Coversation] + ‘You will do for _Constantia_ [_open quote missing_] + will render your Memory illustrious [yonr] + +_The History Of The Nun_ + + _Isabella de Valerie_, that rose like a new Star [the rose] + he found nothing of his Industry thrive [hs found] + foreseeing there was no Provision likely to be made them + [was a / no _at line break_] + +_The Nun; Or, The Perjur’d Beauty_ + + with out whom she had been at a Loss [_elsewhere “without”_] + when she fell passionately in Love with him [passsionately] + +_The Lucky Mistake_ + + I find the Seeds of great and profound Matter [finds] + and wondred how his Stars came so kind + [_spelling unchanged: elsewhere “wonder’d”_] + she assur’d him her Father had never yet [asur’d] + [Note to p. 351] + (... 3 Vols., 1736, 12mo) [3 Vols, 1736] + +_The Unfortunate Bride_ + + So aimable he was [_spelling unchanged_] + for ’twas that very Fondness proved his Ruin [twas] + +_The Dumb Virgin_ + + a handsom Gentleman in a rich _English_ Dress [Gentlemen] + his Voyage from _Smyrna_ to _London_ [_Symrna_] + +_The Unhappy Mistake_ + + and virtuous Education, of an indifferent Fortune [_. for ,_] + which was rewarded with another piece of Money [which which] + came running into the Hall to welcome him? [_? in original_] + + + + + + +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 29854-0.txt or 29854-0.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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