Love-Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister Part 2

I know not what opinion men generally have of the weakness of women; but 'tis sure a vulgar error, for were they like my adorable _Sylvia_, had they had her wit, her vivacity of spirit, her courage, her generous fort.i.tude, her command in every graceful look and action, they were most certainly fit to rule and reign; and man was only born robust and strong, to secure them on those thrones they are formed (by beauty, softness, and a thousand charms which men want) to possess.

Glorious woman was born for command and dominion; and though custom has usurped us the name of rule over all; we from the beginning found ourselves (in spite of all our boasted prerogative) slaves and va.s.sals to the almighty s.e.x. Take then my share of empire, ye G.o.ds; and give me love! Let me toil to gain, but let _Sylvia_ triumph and reign; I ask no more than the led slave at her chariot wheels, to gaze on my charming conqueress, and wear with joy her fetters! Oh how proud I should be to see the dear victor of my soul so elevated, so adorn'd with crowns and sceptres at her feet, which I had won; to see her smiling on the adoring crowd, distributing her glories to young waiting princes; there dealing provinces, and there a coronet.

Heavens! methinks I see the lovely virgin in this state, her chariot slowly driving through the mult.i.tude that press to gaze upon her, she dress'd like _Venus_, richly gay and loose, her hair and robe blown by the flying winds, discovering a thousand charms to view; thus the young G.o.ddess looked, then when she drove her chariot down descending clouds, to meet the love-sick G.o.ds in cooling shades; and so would look my _Sylvia_! Ah, my soft, lovely maid; such thoughts as these fir'd me with ambition: for me, I swear by every power that made me love, and made thee wondrous fair, I design no more by this great enterprise than to make thee some glorious thing, elevated above what we have seen yet on earth; to raise thee above fate or fortune, beyond that pity of thy duller s.e.x, who understand not thy soul, nor can ever reach the flights of thy generous love! No, my soul's joy, I must not leave thee liable to their little natural malice and scorn, to the impertinence of their reproaches. No, my _Sylvia_, I must on, the great design must move forward; though I abandon it, 'twill advance; it is already too far to put a stop to it; and now I am entered, it is in vain to retreat; if we are prosperous, it will to all ages be called a glorious enterprise; but if we fail, it will be base, horrid and infamous; for the world judges of nothing but by the success; that cause is always good that is prosperous, that is ill which is unsuccessful. Should I now retreat, I run many hazards; but to go on I run but one; by the first I shall alarm the whole cabal with a jealousy of my discovering, and those are persons of too great sense and courage, not to take some private way of revenge, to secure their own stakes; and to make myself uncertainly safe by a discovery, indeed, were to gain a refuge so ign.o.ble, as a man of honour would scorn to purchase life at; nor would that baseness secure me. But in going on, oh _Sylvia_! when three kingdoms shall lie unpossess'd, and be exposed, as it were, amongst the raffling crowd, who knows but the chance may be mine, as well as any other's, who has but the same hazard, and throw for it? If the strongest sword must do it, (as that must do it) why not mine still? Why may not mine be that fortunate one? _Cesario_ has no more right to it than _Philander_; 'tis true, a few of the rabble will pretend he has a better t.i.tle to it, but they are a sort of easy fools, lavish in nothing but noise and nonsense; true to change and inconstancy, and will abandon him to their own fury for the next that cries Haloo: neither is there one part of fifty (of the fools that cry him up) for his interest, though they use him for a tool to work with, he being the only great man that wants sense enough to find out the cheat which they dare impose upon. Can any body of reason believe, if they had design'd him good, they would let him bare-fac'd have own'd a party so opposite to all laws of nature, religion, humanity, and common grat.i.tude? When his interest, if design'd, might have been carried on better, if he had still dissembled and stay'd in Court: no, believe me, _Sylvia_, the politicians shew him, to render him odious to all men of tolerable sense of the party; for what reason soever they have who are disoblig'd (or at least think themselves so) to set up for liberty, the world knows _Cesario_ renders himself the worst of criminals by it, and has abandon'd an interest more glorious and easy than empire, to side with and aid people that never did, or ever can oblige him; and he is so dull as to imagine that for his sake, who never did us service or good, (unless cuckolding us be good) we should venture life and fame to pull down a true monarch, to set up his b.a.s.t.a.r.d over us.

_Cesario_ must pardon me, if I think his politics are shallow as his parts, and that his own interest has undone him; for of what advantage soever the design may be to us, it really shocks one's nature to find a son engag'd against a father, and to him such a father. Nor, when time comes, shall I forget the ruin of _Myrtilla_. But let him hope on--and so will I, as do a thousand more, for ought I know; I set out as fair as they, and will start as eagerly; if I miss it now, I have youth and vigour sufficient for another race; and while I stand on fortune's wheel as she rolls it round, it may be my turn to be o'th'

top; for when 'tis set in motion, believe me, _Sylvia_, it is not easily fix'd: however let it suffice, I am now in, past a retreat, and to urge it now to me, is but to put me into inevitable danger; at best it can but set me where I was; that is worse than death. When every fool is aiming at a kingdom, what man of tolerable pride and ambition can be unconcerned, and not put himself into a posture of catching, when a diadem shall be thrown among the crowd? It were insensibility, stupid dullness, not to lift a hand, or make an effort to s.n.a.t.c.h it as it flies: though the glorious falling weight should crush me, it is great to attempt; and if fortune do not favour fools, I have as fair a grasp for it as any other adventurer.

This, my _Sylvia_, is my sense of a business you so much dread; I may rise, but I cannot fall; therefore, my _Sylvia_, urge it no more; love gave me ambition, and do not divert the glorious effects of your wondrous charms, but let them grow, and spread, and see what they will produce for my lovely _Sylvia_, the advantages will most certainly be hers:--But no more: how came my love so dull to entertain thee so many minutes thus with reasons for an affair, which one soft hour with _Sylvia_ will convince to what she would have it; believe me, it will, I will sacrifice all to her repose, nay, to her least command, even the life of

_(My eternal pleasure) Your_ PHILANDER.

_I have no longer patience, I must be coming towards the grove, though it will do me no good, more than knowing I am so much nearer to my adorable creature._

_I conjure you burn this, for writing in haste I have not counterfeited my hand._

_To_ SYLVIA. _Writ in a pair of tablets._

My charmer, I wait your commands in the meadow behind the grove, where I saw _Dorinda_, _Dorillus_ his daughter, entering with a basket of cowslips for _Sylvia_, unnecessarily offering sweets to the G.o.ddess of the Groves, from whence they (with all the rest of their gaudy fellows of the spring) a.s.sume their ravis.h.i.+ng odours. I take every opportunity of telling my _Sylvia_ what I have so often repeated, and shall be ever repeating with the same joy while I live, that I love my _Sylvia_ to death and madness; that my soul is on the rack, till she send me the happy advancing word. And yet believe me, lovely maid, I could grow old with waiting here the blessed moment, though set at any distance (within the compa.s.s of life, and impossible to be 'till then arriv'd to) but when I am so near approach'd it, love from all parts rallies and hastens to my heart for the mighty encounter ,'till the poor panting over-loaded victim dies with the pressing weight. No more,--You know it, for it is, and will be eternally _Sylvia_'s.

POSTSCRIPT.

_Remember, my adorable, it is now seven o'clock: I have my watch in my hand, waiting and looking on the slow pac'd minutes. Eight will quickly arrive, I hope, and then it is dark enough to hide me; think where I am, and who I am, waiting near_ Sylvia, and her Philander.

_I think, my dear angel, you have the other key of these tablets, if not, they are easily broke open: you have an hour good to write in,_ Sylvia _and I shall wait unemployed by any thing but thought. Send me word how you were like to have been surpris'd; it may possibly be of advantage to me in this night's dear adventure. I wonder'd at the superscription of my letter indeed, of which_ Dorillus _could give me no other account, than that you were surpris'd, and he receiv'd it with difficulty; give me the story now, do it in charity my angel.

Besides, I would employ all thy moments, for I am jealous of every one that is not dedicated to_ Sylvia's Philander.

_To_ PHILANDER.

I have received your tablets, of which I have the key, and heaven only knows (for lovers cannot, unless they loved like _Sylvia_, and her _Philander_) what pains and pantings my heart sustain'd at every thought they brought me of thy near approach; every moment I start, and am ready to faint with joy, fear, and something not to be express'd that seizes me. To add to this, I have busied myself with dressing my apartment up with flowers, so that I fancy the ceremonious business of the light looks like the preparations for the dear joy of the nuptial bed; that too is so adorn'd and deck'd with all that's sweet and gay; all which possesses me with so ravis.h.i.+ng and solemn a confusion, that it is even approaching to the most profound sadness itself. Oh _Philander_, I find I am fond of being undone; and unless you take a more than mortal care of me, I know this night some fatal mischief will befall me; what it is I know not, either the loss of _Philander_, my life, or my honour, or all together, which a discovery only of your being alone in my apartment, and at such an hour, will most certainly draw upon us: death is the least we must expect, by some surprise or other, my father being rash, and extremely jealous, and the more so of me, by how much more he is fond of me, and nothing would enrage him like the discovery of an interview like this; though you have liberty to range the house of _Bellfont_ as a son, and are indeed at home there; but when you come by stealth, when he shall find his son and virgin daughter, the brother and the sister so retired, so entertained,--What but death can ensue? Or what is worse, eternal shame? Eternal confusion on my honour? What excuse, what evasions, vows and protestations will convince him, or appease _Myrtilla_'s jealousy; _Myrtilla_, my sister, and _Philander_'s wife? Oh G.o.d! that cruel thought will put me into ravings; I have a thousand streams of killing reflections which flow from that original fountain! Curse on the alliance, that gave you a welcome to _Bellfont_. Ah _Philander_, could you not have stay'd ten short years longer? Alas, you thought that was an age in youth, but it is but a day in love: Ah, could not your eager youth have led you to a thousand diversions, a thousand times have baited in the long journey of life, without hurrying on to the last stage, to the last retreat, but the grave; and to me seem as irrecoverable, as impossible to retrieve thee!--Could no kind beauty stop thee on thy way, in charity or pity; _Philander_ saw me then. And though _Myrtilla_ was more fit for his caresses, and I but capable to please with childish prattle; oh could he not have seen a promising bloom in my face, that might have foretold the future conquests I was born to make? Oh! was there no prophetic charm that could bespeak your heart, engage it, and prevent that fatal marriage? You say, my adorable brother, we were destined from our creation for one another; that the decrees of heaven, or fate, or both, design'd us for this mutual pa.s.sion: why then, oh why did not heaven, fate or destiny, do the mighty work, when first you saw my infant charms? But oh, _Philander_, why do I vainly rave? Why call in vain on time that's fled and gone? Why idly wish for ten years' retribution? That will not yield a day, an hour, a minute: no, no, 'tis past, 'tis past and flown for ever, as distant as a thousand years to me, as irrecoverable. Oh _Philander_, what hast thou thrown away? Ten glorious years of ravis.h.i.+ng youth, of unmatch'd heavenly beauty, on one that knew not half the value of it! _Sylvia_ was only born to set a rate upon it, was only capable of love, such love as might deserve it: oh why was that charming face ever laid on any bosom that knew not how to sigh, and pant, and heave at every touch of so much distracting beauty? Oh why were those dear arms, whose soft pressings ravish where they circle, destin'd for a body cold and dull, that could sleep insensibly there, and not so much as dream the while what the transporting pleasure signified; but unconcerned receive the wondrous blessing, and never knew its price, or thank'd her stars? She has thee all the day to gaze upon, and yet she lets thee pa.s.s her careless sight, as if there were no miracles in view: she does not see the little G.o.ds of love that play eternally in thy eyes; and since she never received a dart from thence, believes there's no artillery there. She plays not with thy hair, nor weaves her snowy fingers in the curls of jet, sets it in order, and adores its beauty: the fool with flaxen-wig had done as well for her; a dull, white c.o.xcomb had made as good a property; a husband is no more, at best no more. Oh thou charming object of my eternal wishes, why wert thou thus dispos'd? Oh save my life, and tell me what indifferent impulse obliged thee to these nuptials: had _Myrtilla_ been recommended or forc'd by the tyranny of a father into thy arms, or for base lucre thou hadst chosen her, this had excus'd thy youth and crime; obedience or vanity I could have pardon'd,--but oh--'twas love; love, my _Philander_! thy raving love, and that which has undone thee was a rape rather than marriage; you fled with her. Oh heavens, mad to possess, you stole the unloving prize!--Yes, you lov'd her, false as you are, you did; perjur'd and faithless. Lov'd her?--h.e.l.l and confusion on the word; it was so--Oh _Philander_, I am lost--

_This letter was found torn in pieces._

_To_ Monsieur, the Count of--

_My Lord_, These pieces of paper, which I have put together as well as I could, were writ by my lady to have been sent by _Dorinda_, when on a sudden she rose in rage from her seat, tore first the paper, and then her robes and hair, and indeed nothing has escaped the violence of her pa.s.sion; nor could my prayers or tears retrieve them, or calm her: 'tis however chang'd at last to mighty pa.s.sions of weeping, in which employment I have left her on her repose, being commanded away.

I thought it my duty to give your lords.h.i.+p this account, and to send the pieces of paper, that your lords.h.i.+p may guess at the occasion of the sudden storm which ever rises in that fatal quarter; but in putting them in order, I had like to have been surprised by my lady's father; for my Lord, the Count, having long solicited me for favours, and taking all opportunities of entertaining me, found me alone in my chamber, employ'd in serving your lords.h.i.+p; I had only time to hide the papers, and to get rid of him, having given him an a.s.signation to-night in the garden grove, to give him the hearing to what he says he has to propose to me: pray heaven all things go right to your lords.h.i.+p's wish this evening, for many ominous things happen'd to-day.

Madam, the Countess, had like to have taken a letter writ for your lords.h.i.+p to-day; for the d.u.c.h.ess of ---- coming to make her a visit, came on a sudden with her into my lady's apartment, and surpris'd her writing in her dressing room, giving her only time to slip the paper into her combbox. The first ceremonies being pa.s.s'd, as Madam, the d.u.c.h.ess, uses not much, she fell to commend my lady's dressing-plate, and taking up the box, and opening it, found the letter, and laughing, cried, 'Oh, have I found you making love;' at which my lady, with an infinite confusion, would have retrieved it,--but the d.u.c.h.ess not quitting her hold, cried--'Nay, I am resolved to see in what manner you write to a lover, and whether you have a heart tender or cruel?'

At which she began to read aloud, my lady to blush and change colour a hundred times in a minute: I ready to die with fear; Madam the Countess, in infinite amazement, my lady interrupting every word the d.u.c.h.ess read, by prayers and entreaties, which heightened her curiosity, and being young and airy, regarded not the indecency to which she preferr'd her curiosity, who still laughing, cried she was resolv'd to read it out, and know the const.i.tution of her heart; when my lady, whose wit never fail'd her, cried, 'I beseech you, madam, let us have so much complaisance for _Melinda_ as to ask her consent in this affair, and then I am pleas'd you should see what love I can make upon occasion:' I took the hint, and with a real confusion, cried--'I implore you, madam, not to discover my weakness to Madam, the d.u.c.h.ess; I would not for the world--be thought to love so pa.s.sionately, as your ladys.h.i.+p, in favour of _Alexis_, has made me profess, under the name of _Sylvia_ to _Philander_'. This encouraged my lady, who began to say a thousand pleasant things of _Alexis_, _Dorillus_ his son, and my lover, as your lords.h.i.+p knows, and who is no inconsiderable fortune for a maid, enrich'd only by your lords.h.i.+p's bounty. My lady, after this, took the letter, and all being resolv'd it should be read, she herself did it, and turned it so prettily into burlesque love by her manner of reading it, that made Madam, the d.u.c.h.ess, laugh extremely; who at the end of it, cried to my lady--'Well, madam, I am satisfied you have not a heart wholly insensible of love, that could so express it for another.' Thus they rallied on, till careful of my lover's repose, the d.u.c.h.ess urg'd the letter might be immediately sent away; at which my lady readily folding up the letter, writ '_For the Constant_ Alexis', on the outside: I took it, and begg'd I might have leave to retire to write it over in my own hand; they permitted me, and I carried it, after sealing it, to _Dorillus_, who waited for it, and wondering to find his son's name on it, cried 'Mistress, _Melinda_, I doubt you have mistook my present business; I wait for a letter from my lady to my lord, and you give me one from yourself to my son _Alexis_; 'twill be very welcome to _Alexis_ I confess, but at this time I had rather oblige my lord than my son:' I laughing replied, he was mistaken, that _Alexis_, at this time, meant no other than my lord, which pleas'd the good man extremely, who thought it a good omen for his son, and so went his way satisfied; as every body was, except the Countess, who fancied something more in it than my lady's inditing for me; and after Madam the d.u.c.h.ess was gone, she went ruminating and pensive to her chamber, from whence I am confident she will not depart to-night, and will possibly set spies in every corner; at least 'tis good to fear the worst, that we may prevent all things that would hinder this night's a.s.signation: as soon as the coast is clear, I'll wait on your lords.h.i.+p, and be your conductor, and in all things else am ready to shew myself,

_My Lord,_

_Your lords.h.i.+p's most humble and most obedient servant,_

MELINDA.

Sylvia _has given orders to wait on your lords.h.i.+p as soon as all is clear._

_To_ MELINDA.

Oh _Melinda_, what have you told me? Stay me with an immediate account of the recovery and calmness of my adorable weeping _Sylvia_, or I shall enter _Bellfont_ with my sword drawn, bearing down all before me, 'till I make my way to my charming mourner: O G.o.d! _Sylvia_ in a rage! _Sylvia_ in any pa.s.sion but that of love? I cannot bear it, no, by heaven I cannot; I shall do some outrage either on myself or at _Bellfont_. Oh thou dear advocate of my tenderest wishes, thou confidante of my never dying flame, thou kind administering maid, send some relief to my breaking heart--haste and tell me, _Sylvia_ is calm, that her bright eyes sparkle with smiles, or if they languish, say 'tis with love, with expecting joys; that her dear hands are no more employed in exercises too rough and unbecoming their native softness.

O eternal G.o.d! tearing perhaps her divine hair, brighter than the sun's reflecting beams, injuring the heavenly beauty of her charming face and bosom, the joy and wish of all mankind that look upon her: oh charm her with prayers and tears, stop her dear fingers from the rude a.s.saults; bind her fair hands; repeat _Philander_ to her, tell her he's fainting with the news of her unkindness and outrage on her lovely self; but tell her too, I die adoring her; tell her I rave, I tear, I curse myself,--for so I do; tell her I would break out into a violence that should set all _Bellfont_ in a flame, but for my care of her. Heaven and earth should not restrain me,--no, they should not,----But her least frown should still me, tame me, and make me a calm coward: say this, say all, say any thing to charm her rage and tears. Oh I am mad, stark-mad, and ready to run on business I die to think her guilty of: tell her how it would grieve her to see me torn and mangled; to see that hair she loves ruffled and diminish'd by rage, violated by my insupportable grief, myself quite bereft of all sense but that of love, but that of adoration for my charming, cruel insensible, who is possessed with every thought, with every imagination that can render me unhappy, borne away with every fancy that is in disfavour of the wretched _Philander_. Oh _Melinda_, write immediately, or you will behold me enter a most deplorable object of pity.

When I receiv'd yours, I fell into such a pa.s.sion that I forc'd myself back to _Dorillus_ his house, left my transports and hurried me to _Bellfont_, where I should have undone all: but as I can now rest no where, I am now returning to the meadow again, where I will expect your aid, or die.

_From_ Dorillus _his cottage, almost nine o'clock._

_To_ PHILANDER.

I must own, my charming _Philander_, that my love is now arrived to that excess, that every thought which before but discompos'd me, now puts me into a violence of rage unbecoming my s.e.x; or any thing but the mighty occasion of it, love, and which only had power to calm what it had before ruffled into a destructive storm: but like the anger'd sea, which pants and heaves, and retains still an uneasy motion long after the rude winds are appeas'd and hush'd to silence; my heart beats still, and heaves with the sensible remains of the late dangerous tempest of my mind, and nothing can absolutely calm me but the approach of the all-powerful _Philander_; though that thought possesses me with ten thousand fears, which I know will vanish all at thy appearance, and a.s.sume no more their dreadful shapes till thou art gone again: bring me then that kind cessation, bring me my _Philander_, and set me above the thoughts of cares, frights, or any other thoughts but those of tender love; haste then, thou charming object of my eternal wishes, and of my new desires; haste to my arms, my eyes, my soul,--but oh, be wondrous careful there, do not betray the easy maid that trusts thee amidst all her sacred store.

'Tis almost dark, and my mother is retired to her chamber, my father to his cabinet, and has left all that apartment next the garden wholly without spies. I have, by trusty _Dorillus_, sent you a key _Melinda_ got made to the door, which leads from the garden to the black-stairs to my apartment, so carefully locked, and the original key so closely guarded by my jealous father: that way I beg you to come; a way but too well known to _Philander_, and by which he has made many an escape to and from _Myrtilla_. Oh d.a.m.n that thought, what makes it torturing me,----let me change it for those of _Philander_, the advantage will be as great as bartering h.e.l.l for heaven; haste then, _Philander_: but what need I bid thee, love will lend thee his wings; thou who commandest all his artillery, put them on, and fly to thy languis.h.i.+ng

SYLVIA.

_Oh I faint with the dear thought of thy approach._

_To the Charming_ SYLVIA.

With much ado, with many a sigh, a panting heart, and many a languis.h.i.+ng look back towards happy _Bellfont_, I have recovered _Dorillus_ his farm, where I threw me on a bed, and lay without motion, and almost without life for two hours; till at last, through all my sighs, my great concern, my torment, my love and rage broke silence, and burst into all the different complaints both soft and mad by turns, that ever possessed a soul extravagantly seized with frantic love; ah, _Sylvia_, what did not I say? How did I not curse, and who except my charming maid? For yet my _Sylvia_ is a maid: yes, yes, ye envying powers, she is, and yet the sacred and inestimable treasure was offered a trembling victim to the overjoyed and fancied deity, for then and there I thought myself happier than a triumphing G.o.d; but having overcome all difficulties, all the fatigues and toils of love's long sieges, vanquish'd the mighty phantom of the fair, the giant honour, and routed all the numerous host of women's little reasonings, pa.s.sed all the bounds of peevish modesty; nay, even all the loose and silken counterscarps that fenced the sacred fort, and nothing stopped my glorious pursuit: then, then, ye G.o.ds, just then, by an over-transport, to fall just fainting before the surrendering gates, unable to receive the yielding treasure! Oh _Sylvia_! What _demon_, malicious at my glory, seized my vigour? What G.o.d, envious of my mighty joy, rendered me a shameful object of his raillery? s.n.a.t.c.hed my (till then) never failing power, and left me dying on thy charming bosom. Heavens, how I lay! Silent with wonder, rage and ecstasy of love, unable to complain, or rail, or storm, or seek for ease, but with my sighs alone, which made up all my breath; my mad desires remained, but all inactive, as age or death itself, as cold and feeble, as unfit for joy, as if my youthful fire had long been past, or _Sylvia_ had never been blest with charms. Tell me, thou wondrous perfect creature, tell me, where lay the hidden witchcraft? Was _Sylvia_'s beauty too divine to mix with mortal joys? Ah no, 'twas ravis.h.i.+ng, but human all. Yet sure 'twas so approaching to divinity, as changed my fire to awful adoration, and all my wanton heat to reverent contemplation.--But this is nonsense all, it was something more that gave me rage, despair and torments insupportable: no, it was no dull devotion, tame divinity, but mortal killing agony, unlucky disappointment, unnatural impotence. Oh! I am lost, enchanted by some magic spell: oh, what can _Sylvia_ say? What can she think of my fond pa.s.sion; she'll swear it is all a cheat, I had it not. No, it could not be; such tales I've often heard, as often laughed at too, of disappointed lovers; would _Sylvia_ believe (as sure she may) mine was excess of pa.s.sion: what! My _Sylvia_! being arrived to all the joy of love, just come to reap the glorious recompense, the full reward, the heaven for all my sufferings, do I lie gazing only, and no more? A dull, a feeble unconcerned admirer! Oh my eternal shame!--Curse on my youth; give me, ye powers, old age, for that has some excuse, but youth has none: 'tis dullness, stupid insensibility: where shall I hide my head when this lewd story's told? When it shall be confirmed, _Philander_ the young, the brisk and gay _Philander_, who never failed the woman he scarce wished for, never baulked the amorous conceited old, nor the ill-favoured young, yet when he had extended in his arms the young, the charming fair and longing _Sylvia_, the untouched, unspotted, and till then, unwis.h.i.+ng lovely maid, yielded, defenceless, and unguarded all, he wanted power to seize the trembling prey: defend me, heaven, from madness. Oh _Sylvia_, I have reflected on all the little circ.u.mstances that might occasion this disaster, and d.a.m.n me to this degree of coldness, but I can fix on none: I had, it is true, for _Sylvia_'s sake, some apprehensions of fear of being surprised; for coming through the garden, I saw at the farther end a man, at least I fancied by that light it was a man; who perceiving the glimpse of something approach from the grove, made softly towards me, but with such caution, as if he feared to be mistaken in the person, as much as I was to approach him: and reminding what _Melinda_ told me, of an a.s.signation she had made to _Monsieur_ the Count--imagined it him; nor was I mistaken when I heard his voice calling in low tone--'_Melinda_'

--at which I mended my pace, and ere he got half way the garden recovered the door, and softly unlocking it, got in unperceived, and fastened it after me, well enough a.s.sured that he saw not which way I vanished: however, it failed not to alarm me with some fears on your dear account, that disturbed my repose, and which I thought then not necessary to impart to you, and which indeed all vanished at the sight of my adorable maid: when entering thy apartment, I beheld thee extended on a bed of roses, in garments, which, if possible, by their wanton loose negligence and gaiety, augmented thy natural charms: I trembling fell on my knees by your bed-side and gazed a while, unable to speak for transports of joy and love: you too were silent, and remained so, so long that I ventured to press your lips with mine, which all their eager kisses could not put in motion, so that I feared you fainted; a sudden fright, that in a moment changed my fever of love into a cold ague fit; but you revived me with a sigh again, and fired me anew, by pressing my hand, and from that silent soft encouragement, I, by degrees, ravished a thousand blisses; yet still between your tempting charming kisses, you would cry--'Oh, my _Philander_, do not injure me,--be sure you press me not to the last joys of love,--Oh have a care, or I am undone for ever: restrain your roving hands,----Oh whither would they wander?----My soul, my joy, my everlasting charmer, oh whither would you go?'--Thus with a thousand cautions more, which did but raise what you designed to calm, you made me but the madder to possess: not all the vows you bid me call to mind, could now restrain my wild and headstrong pa.s.sion; my raving, raging (but my soft) desire: no, _Sylvia_, no, it was not in the power of feeble flesh and blood to find resistance against so many charms; yet still you made me swear, still I protested, but still burnt on with the same torturing flame, till the vast pleasure even became a pain: to add to this, I saw, (yes, _Sylvia_, not all your art and modesty could hide it) I saw the ravis.h.i.+ng maid as much inflamed as I; she burnt with equal fire, with equal languishment: not all her care could keep the sparks concealed, but it broke out in every word and look; her trembling tongue, her feeble fainting voice betrayed it all; sighs interrupting every syllable; a languishment I never saw till then dwelt in her charming eyes, that contradicted all her little vows; her short and double breathings heaved her breast, her swelling snowy breast, her hands that grasped me trembling as they closed, while she permitted mine unknown, unheeded to traverse all her beauties, till quite forgetting all I had faintly promised, and wholly abandoning my soul to joy, I rushed upon her, who, all fainting, lay beneath my useless weight, for on a sudden all my power was fled, swifter than lightning hurried through my enfeebled veins, and vanished all: not the dear lovely beauty which I pressed, the dying charms of that fair face and eyes, the clasps of those soft arms, nor the bewitching accent of her voice, that murmured love half smothered in her sighs, nor all my love, my vast, my mighty pa.s.sion, could call my fugitive vigour back again: oh no, the more I looked--the more I touched and saw, the more I was undone. Oh pity me, my too I too lovely maid, do not revile the faults which you alone create. Consider all your charms at once exposed, consider every sense about me ravished, overcome with joys too mighty to be supported, no wonder if I fell a shameful sacrifice to the fond deity: consider how I waited, how I strove, and still I burnt on, and every tender touch still added fuel to the vigorous fire, which by your delay consumed itself in burning. I want philosophy to make this out, or faith to fix my unhappiness on any chance or natural accident; but this, my charming _Sylvia_, I am sure, that had I loved you less, I'd been less wretched: nor had we parted, _Sylvia_, on so ill terms, nor had I left you with an opinion so disadvantageous for _Philander_, but for that unhappy noise at your chamber-door, which alarming your fear, occasioned your recovery from that dear trance, to which love and soft desire had reduced you, and me from the most tormenting silent agony that disappointed joy ever possessed a fond expecting heart with. Oh heavens! to have my _Sylvia_ in my power, favoured by silence, night and safe retreat! then, then, to lie a tame cold sigher only, as if my _Sylvia_ gave that a.s.signation alone by stealth, undressed, all loose and languis.h.i.+ng, fit for the mighty business of the night, only to hear me prattle, see me gaze, or tell her what a pretty sight it was to see the moon s.h.i.+ne through the dancing boughs. Oh d.a.m.n my hardened dullness!--But no more,--I am all fire and madness at the thought,-- but I was saying, _Sylvia_, we both recovered then when the noise alarmed us. I long to know whether you think we were betrayed, for on that knowledge rests a mighty part of my destiny: I hope we are not, by an accident that befell me at my going away, which (but for my untimely force of leaving my lovely _Sylvia_, which gave me pains insupportable) would have given me great diversion. You know our fear of being discovered occasioned my disguise, for you found it necessary I should depart, your fear had so prevailed, and that in _Melinda_'s night-gown and head-dress: thus attired, with much ado, I went and left my soul behind me, and finding no body all along the gallery, nor in my pa.s.sage from your apartment into the garden, I was a thousand times about to return to all my joys; when in the midst of this almost ended dispute, I saw by the light of the moon (which was by good fortune under a cloud, and could not distinctly direct the sight) a man making towards me with cautious speed, which made me advance with the more haste to recover the grove, believing to have escaped him under the covert of the trees; for retreat I could not, without betraying which way I went; but just at the entrance of the thicket, he turning short made up to me, and I perceived it _Monsieur_ the Count, who taking me for _Melinda_, whom it seems he expected, caught hold of my gown as I would have pa.s.sed him, and cried, 'Now _Melinda_, I see you are a maid of honour,--come, retire with me into the grove, where I have a present of a heart and something else to make you, that will be of more advantage to you than that of _Alexis_, though something younger.'--I all confounded knew not what to reply, nor how, lest he should find his mistake, at least, if he discovered not who I was: which silence gave him occasion to go on, which he did in this manner: 'What not a word, _Melinda_, or do you design I shall take your silence for consent? If so, come my pretty creature, let us not lose the hour love has given us;' at this he would have advanced, leading me by the hand, which he pressed and kissed very amorously: judge, my adorable _Sylvia_, in what a fine condition your _Philander_ then was in. What should I do? To go had disappointed him worse than I was with thee before; not to go, betrayed me: I had much ado to hold my countenance, and unwilling to speak. While I was thus employed in thought, _Monsieur_----pulling me (eager of joys to come,) and I holding back, he stopped and cried, 'Sure, _Melinda_, you came not hither to bring me a denial.' I then replied, whispering,--'Softly, sir, for heaven's sake' (sweetening my voice as much as possible) 'consider I am a maid, and would not be discovered for the world.'

'Who can discover us?' replied my lover, 'what I take from thee shall never be missed, not by _Alexis_ himself upon thy wedding night;--Come--sweet child, come:--'--'With that I pulled back and whispered--'Heavens! Would you make a mistress of me?'--Says he--'A mistress, what would'st thou be a cherubin?' Then I replied as before--'I am no wh.o.r.e, sir,'--'No,' cries he, 'but I can quickly make thee one, I have my tools about me, sweet-heart; therefore let us lose no time, but fall to work:' this last raillery from the brisk old gentleman, had in spite of resolution almost made me burst out into a loud laughter, when he took more gravity upon him, and cried--'Come, come, _Melinda_, why all this foolish argument at this hour in this place, and after so much serious courts.h.i.+p; believe me, I'll be kind to thee for ever;' with that he clapped fifty guineas in a purse into one hand, and something else that shall be nameless into the other, presents that had been both worth _Melinda_'s acceptance: all this while was I studying an evasion; at last, to shorten my pleasant adventure, looking round, I cried softly, 'Are you sure, sir, we are safe--for heaven's sake step towards the garden door and see, for I would not be discovered for the world.'--'Nor I,' cried he--'but do not fear, all is safe:'--'However see' (whispered I) 'that my fear may not disturb your joys.' With that he went toward the house, and I slipping into the grove, got immediately into the meadow, where _Alexis_ waited my coming with _Brilliard_; so I, left the expecting lover, I suppose, ranging the grove for his fled nymph, and I doubt will fall heavy on poor _Melinda_, who shall have the guineas, either to restore or keep, as she and the angry Count can agree: I leave the management of it to her wit and conduct.

This account I thought necessary to give my charmer, that she might prepare _Melinda_ for the a.s.sault, who understanding all that pa.s.sed between us, may so dispose of matters, that no discovery may happen by mistake, and I know my _Sylvia_ and she can find a thousand excuses for the supposed _Melinda_'s flight. But, my adorable maid, my business here was not to give an account of my adventure only, nor of my ravings, but to tell my _Sylvia_, on what my life depends; which is, in a permission to wait on her again this ensuing night; make no excuse, for if you do, by all I adore in heaven and earth I'll end my life here where I received it. I will say no more, nor give your love instructions, but wait impatiently here the life or death of your PHILANDER.

_'Tis six o'clock, and yet my eyes have not closed themselves to sleep:_ Alexis _and_ Brilliard _give me hopes of a kind return to this, and have brought their flute and violin to charm me into a slumber: if_ Sylvia _love, as I am sure she does, she will wake me with a dear consent to see me; if not, I only wake to sleep for ever_.

_To My Fair_ CHARMER.

When I had sealed the enclosed, my page, whom I had ordered to come to me with an account of any business extraordinary, is this morning arrived with a letter from _Cesario_, which I have sent here enclosed, that my _Sylvia_ may see how little I regard the world, or the mighty revolution in hand, when set in compet.i.tion with the least hope of beholding her adorable face, or hearing her charming tongue when it whispers the soft dictates of her tender heart into my ravished soul; one moment's joy like that surmounts an age of dull empire. No, let the busy unregarded rout perish, the cause fall or stand alone for me: give me but love, love and my _Sylvia_; I ask no more of heaven; to which vast joy could you but imagine (O wondrous miracle of beauty!) how poor and little I esteem the valued trifles of the world, you would in return contemn your part of it, and live with me in silent shades for ever. Oh! _Sylvia_, what hast thou this night to add to the soul of thy

PHILANDER.

_To_ the Count of----

I'll allow you, my dear, to be very fond of so much beauty as the world must own adorns the lovely _Sylvia_: I'll permit love too to rival me in your heart, but not out-rival glory; haste then, my dear, to the advance of that, make no delay, but with the morning's dawn let me find you in my arms, where I have something that will surprise you to relate to you: you were last night expected at----It behoves you to give no umbrage to persons whose interest renders them enough jealous.