Love-Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister Part 11

_I should, for some reasons that concern my safety, have quitted Ms town before, but I am chained to it, and no sense of danger while_ Calista _compels my stay._

If _Octavio_'s trouble was great before, from but his fear of _Calista_'s yielding, what must it be now, when he found all his fears confirmed? The pressures of his soul were too extreme before, and the concern he had for _Sylvia_ had brought it to the highest tide of grief; so that this addition overwhelmed it quite, and left him no room for rage; no, it could not discharge itself so happily, but bowed and yielded to all the extremes of love, grief, and sense of honour; he threw himself upon his bed, and lay without sense or motion for a whole hour, confused with thought, and divided in his concern, half for a mistress false, and half for a sister loose and undone; by turns the sister and the mistress torture; by turns they break his heart: he had this comfort left before, that if _Calista_ were undone, her ruin made way for his love and happiness with _Sylvia_, but now----he had no prospect left that could afford any ease; he changes from one sad object to another, from _Sylvia_ to _Calista_, then back to _Sylvia_; but like to feverish men that toss about here and there, remove for some relief, he shifts but to new pain, wherever he turns he finds the madman still: in this distraction of thought he remained till a page from _Sylvia_ brought him this letter, which in midst of all, he started from his bed with excess of joy, and read.

SYLVIA _to_ OCTAVIO.

_My Lord_,

After your last affront by your page, I believe it will surprise you to receive any thing from _Sylvia_ but scorn and disdain: but, my lord, the interest you have by a thousand ways been so long making in my heart, cannot so soon be cancelled by a minute's offence; and every action of your life has been too generous to make me think you writ what I have received, at least you are not well in your senses: I have committed a fault against your love, I must confess, and am not ashamed of the little cheat I put upon you in bringing you to bed to _Antonet_ instead of _Sylvia_: I was ashamed to be so easily won, and took it ill your pa.s.sion was so mercenary to ask so coa.r.s.ely for the possession of me; too great a pay I thought for so poor service, as rendering up a letter which in honour you ought before to have shewed me: I own I gave you hope, in that too I was criminal; but these are faults that sure deserved a kinder punishment than what I last received--a wh.o.r.e--, a common mistress! Death, you are a coward----and even to a woman dare not say it, when she confronts the scandaler,----Yet pardon me, I mean not to revile, but gently to reproach; it was unkind----at least allow me that, and much unlike _Octavio_.

I think I had not troubled you, my lord, with the least confession of my resentment, but I could not leave the town, where for the honour of your conversation and friendship alone I have remained so long, without acquitting myself of those obligations I had to you; I send you therefore the key of my closet and cabinet, where you shall find not only your letters, but all those presents you have been pleased once to think me worthy of: but having taken back your friendship, I render you the less valuable trifles, and will retain no more of _Octavio_, than the dear memory of that part of his life that was so agreeable to the unfortunate

SYLVIA.

He reading this letter, finished with tears of tender love; but considering it all over, he fancied she had put great constraint upon her natural high spirit to write in this calm manner to him, and through all he found dissembled rage, which yet was visible in that one breaking out in the middle of the letter: he found she was not able to contain at the word, common mistress. In fine, however calm it was, and however designed, he found, and at least he thought he found the charming jilt all over; he fancies from the hint she gave him of the change of _Antonet_ for herself in bed, that it was some new cheat that was to be put upon him, and to bring herself off with credit: yet, in spite of all this appearing reason, he wishes, and has a secret hope, that either she is not in fault, or that she will so cozen him into a belief she is not, that it may serve as well to soothe his willing heart; and now all he fears is, that she will not put so neat a cheat upon him, but that he shall be able to see through it, and still be obliged to retain his ill opinion of her: but love returned, she had roused the flame anew, and softened all his rougher thoughts with this dear letter; and now in haste he calls for his clothes, and suffering himself to be dressed with all the advantage of his s.e.x, he throws himself into his coach, and goes to _Sylvia_, whom he finds just dressed _en chevalier_, (and setting her head and feather in good order before the gla.s.s) with a design to depart the town, at least so far as should have raised a concern in _Octavio_, if yet he had any for her, to have followed her; he ran up without asking leave into her chamber; and ere she was aware of him he threw himself at her feet, and clasping her knees, to which he fixed his mouth, he remained there for a little s.p.a.ce without life or motion, and pressed her in his arms as fast as a dying man. She was not offended to see him there, and he appeared more lovely than ever he yet had been. His grief had added a languishment and paleness to his face, which sufficiently told her he had not been at ease while absent from her; and on the other side, _Sylvia_ appeared ten thousand times more charming than ever, the dress of a boy adding extremely to her beauty: 'Oh you are a pretty lover,' said she, raising him from her knees to her arms, 'to treat a mistress so for a little innocent raillery.----Come, sit and tell me how you came to discover the harmless cheat;' setting him down on the side of her bed. 'Oh name it no more,' cried he, 'let that d.a.m.ned night be blotted from the year, deceive me, flatter me, say you are innocent; tell me my senses rave, my eyes were false, deceitful, and my ears were deaf: say any thing that may convince my madness, and bring me back to tame adoring love.'

'What means _Octavio_,' replied _Sylvia_, 'sure he is not so nice and squeamish a lover, but a fair young maid might have been welcome to him coming so prepared for love; though it was not she whom he expected, it might have served as well in the dark at least?' 'Well said,' replied _Octavio_, forcing a smile '----advance, pursue the dear design, and cheat me still, and to convince my soul, oh swear it too, for women want no weapons of defence, oaths, vows, and tears, sighs, imprecations, ravings, are all the tools to fashion mankind c.o.xcombs: I am an easy fellow, fit for use, and long to be initiated fool; come, swear I was not here the other night.' 'It is granted, sir, you were: why all this pa.s.sion?' This _Sylvia_ spoke, and took him by the hand, which burnt with raging fire; and though he spoke with all the heat of love, his looks were soft the while as infant _Cupids_: still he proceeded; 'Oh charming _Sylvia_, since you are so unkind to tell me truth, cease, cease to speak at all, and let me only gaze upon those eyes that can so well deceive: their looks are innocent, at least they will flatter me, and tell mine they lost their faculties that other night.' 'No,' replied _Sylvia_, 'I am convinced they did not, you saw _Antonet_----' 'Conduct a happy man'

(interrupted he) 'to _Sylvia_'s bed. Oh, why by your confession must my soul be tortured over anew!' At this he hung his head upon his bosom, and sighed as if each breath would be his last. 'Heavens!'

cried _Sylvia_, 'what is it _Octavio_ says! Conduct a happy lover to my bed! by all that is sacred I am abused, designed upon to be betrayed and lost; what said you, sir, a lover to my bed!' When he replied in a fainting tone, clasping her to his arms, 'Now, _Sylvia_, you are kind, be perfect woman, and keep to cozening still----Now back it with a very little oath, and I am as well as before I saw your falsehood, and never will lose one thought upon it more.' 'Forbear,'

said she, 'you will make me angry. In short, what is it you would say?

Or swear, you rave, and then I will pity what I now despise, if you can think me false.' He only answered with a sigh, and she pursued, 'Am I not worth an answer? Tell me your soul and thoughts, as ever you hope for favour from my love, or to preserve my quiet.' 'If you will promise me to say it is false,' replied he softly, 'I will confess the errors of my senses. I came the other night at twelve, the door was open.-----' 'It is true,' said _Sylvia_----'At the stairs-foot I found a man, and saw him led to you into your chamber, sighing as he went, and panting with impatience: now, _Sylvia_, if you value my repose, my life, my reputation, or my services, turn it off handsomely, and I am happy.' At that, being wholly amazed, she told him the whole story, as you heard of her dressing _Antonet_, and bringing him to her; at which he smiled, and begged her to go on----She fetched the pieces of _Brilliard_'s counterfeit letters, and shewed him; this brought him a little to his wits, and at first sight he was ready to fancy the letters came indeed from him; he found the character his, but not his business; and in great amaze replied, 'Ah, madam, did you know _Octavio_'s soul so well, and could you imagine it capable of a thought like this? A presumption so daring to the most awful of her s.e.x; this was unkind indeed: and did you answer them?' 'Yes,' replied she, 'with all the kindness I could force my pen to express.' So that after canva.s.sing the matter, and relating the whole story again with his being taken ill, they concluded from every circ.u.mstance _Brilliard_ was the man; for _Antonet_ was called to council; who now recollecting all things in her mind, and knowing _Brilliard_ but too well, she confessed she verily believed it was he, especially when she told how she stole a letter of _Octavio_'s for him that day, and how he was ill of the same disease still. _Octavio_ then called his page, and sent him home for the note _Brilliard_ had sent him, and all appeared as clear as day: but _Antonet_ met with a great many reproaches for shewing her lady's letters, which she excused as well as she could: but never was man so ravished with joy as _Octavio_ was at the knowledge of _Sylvia_'s innocence; a thousand times he kneeled and begged her pardon; and her figure encouraging his caresses, a thousand times he embraced her, he smiled, and blushed, and sighed with love and joy, and knew not how to express it most effectually: and _Sylvia_, who had other business than love in her heart and head, suffered all the marks of his eager pa.s.sion and transport out of design, for she had a farther use to make of _Octavio_; though when she surveyed his person handsome, young, and adorned with all the graces and beauties of the s.e.x, not at all inferior to _Philander_, if not exceeding in every judgement but that of _Sylvia_; when she considered his soul, where wit, love, and honour equally reigned, when she consults the excellence of his nature, his generosity, courage, friendship, and softness, she sighed and cried, it was pity to impose upon him; and make his love for which she should esteem him, a property to draw him to his ruin; for so she fancied it must be if ever he encountered _Philander_; and though good nature was the least ingredient that formed the soul of this fair charmer, yet now she found she had a mixture of it, from her concern for _Octavio_; and that generous lover made her so many soft vows, and tender protestations of the respect and awfulness of his pa.s.sion, that she was wholly convinced he was her slave; nor could she see the constant languisher pouring out his soul and fortune at her feet, without suffering some warmth about her heart, which she had never felt but for _Philander_; and this day she expressed herself more obligingly than ever she had done, and allows him little freedoms of approaching her with more softness than hitherto she had; and, absolutely charmed, he promises, lavishly and without reserve, all she would ask of him; and in requital she a.s.sured him all he could wish or hope, if he would serve her in her revenge against _Philander_: she recounts to him at large the story of her undoing, her quality, her fortune, her nice education, the care and tenderness of her n.o.ble parents, and charges all her fate to the evil conduct of her heedless youth: sometimes the reflection on her ruin, she looking back upon her former innocence and tranquillity, forces the tears to flow from her fair eyes, and makes _Octavio_ sigh, and weep by sympathy: sometimes (arrived at the amorous part of her relation) she would sigh and languish with the remembrance of past joys in their beginning love; and sometimes smile at the little unlucky adventures they met with, and their escapes; so that different pa.s.sions seized her soul while she spoke, while that of all love filled _Octavio_'s: he dotes, he burns, and every word she utters enflames him still the more; he fixes his very soul upon her tongue, and darts his very eyes into her face, and every thing she says raises his vast esteem and pa.s.sion higher. In fine, having with the eloquence of sacred wit, and all the charms of every differing pa.s.sion, finished her moving tale, they both declined their eyes, whose falling showers kept equal time and pace, and for a little time were still as thought: when _Octavio_, oppressed with mighty love, broke the soft silence, and burst into extravagance of pa.s.sion, says all that men (grown mad with love and wishing) could utter to the idol of his heart; and to oblige her more, recounts his life in short; wherein, in spite of all his modesty, she found all that was great and brave; all that was n.o.ble, fortunate and honest: and having now confirmed her, he deserved her, kneeling implored she would accept of him, not as a lover for a term of pa.s.sion, for dates of months or years, but for a long eternity; not as a rifler of her sacred honour, but to defend it from the censuring world; he vowed he would forget that ever any part of it was lost, nor by a look or action ever upbraid her with a misfortune past, but still look forward on n.o.bler joys to come: and now implores that he may bring a priest to tie the solemn knot. In spite of all her love for _Philander_, she could not choose but take this offer kindly; and indeed, it made a very great impression on her heart; she knew nothing but the height of love could oblige a man of his quality and vast fortune, with all the advantages of youth and beauty, to marry her in so ill circ.u.mstances; and paying him first those acknowledgements that were due on so great an occasion, with all the tenderness in her voice and eyes that she could put on, she excused herself from receiving the favour, by telling him she was so unfortunate as to be with child by the ungrateful man; and falling at that thought into new tears, she moved him to infinite love, and infinite compa.s.sion; insomuch that, wholly abandoning himself to softness, he a.s.sured her, if she would secure him all his happiness by marrying him now, that he would wait till she were brought to bed, before he would demand the glorious recompense he aspired to; so that _Sylvia_, being oppressed with obligation, finding yet in her soul a violent pa.s.sion for _Philander_, she knew not how to take, or how to refuse the blessing offered, since _Octavio_ was a man whom, in her height of innocence and youth, she might have been vain and proud of engaging to this degree. He saw her pain and irresolution, and being absolutely undone with love, delivers her _Philander_'s last letter to him, with what he had sent her enclosed; the sight of the very outside of it made her grow pale as death, and a feebleness seized her all over, that made her unable for a moment to open it; all which confusion _Octavio_ saw with pain, which she perceiving recollected her thoughts as well as she could, and opened it, and read it; that to _Octavio_ first, as being fondest of the continuation of the history of his falsehood, she read, and often paused to recover her spirits that were fainting at every period; and having finished it, she fell down on the bed where they sat. _Octavio_ caught her in her fall in his arms, where she remained dead some moments; whilst he, just on the point of being so himself, ravingly called for help; and _Antonet_ being in the dressing-room ran to them, and by degrees _Sylvia_ recovered, and asked _Octavio_ a thousand pardons for exposing a weakness to him, which was but the effects of the last blaze of love: and taking a cordial which _Antonet_ brought her, she roused, resolved, and took _Octavio_ by the hand: 'Now,' said she, 'shew yourself that generous lover you have professed, and give me your vows of revenge on _Philander_; and after that, by all that is holy,' kneeling as she spoke, and holding him fast, 'by all my injured innocence, by all my n.o.ble father's wrongs, and my dear mother's grief; by all my sister's sufferings, I swear, I will marry you, love you, and give you all!' This she spoke without considering _Antonet_ was by, and spoke it with all the rage, and blushes in her face, that injured love and revenge could inspire: and on the other side, the sense of his sister's honour lost, and that of the tender pa.s.sion he had for _Sylvia_, made him swear by all that was sacred, and by all the vows of eternal love and honour he had made to _Sylvia_, to go and revenge himself and her on the false friend and lover, and confessed the second motive, which was his sister's fame, 'For,' cried he,'that foul adulteress, that false _Calista_, is so allied to me.' But still he urged that would add to the justness of his cause, if he might depart her husband as well as lover, and revenge an injured wife as well as sister; and now he could ask nothing she did not easily grant; and because it was late in the day, they concluded that the morning shall consummate all his desires: and now she gives him her letter to read; 'For,' said she, 'I shall esteem myself henceforth so absolutely _Octavio_'s, that I will not so much as read a line from that perjured ruiner of my honour;' he took the letter with smiles and bows of grat.i.tude, and read it.

PHILANDER _to_ SYLVIA.

There are a thousand reasons, dearest _Sylvia_, at this time that prevent my writing to you, reasons that will be convincing enough to oblige my pardon, and plead my cause with her that loves me: all which I will lay before you when I have the happiness to see you; I have met with some affairs since my arrival to this place, that wholly take up my time; affairs of State, whose fatigues have put my heart extremely out of tune, and if not carefully managed may turn to my perpetual ruin, so that I have not an hour in a day to spare for _Sylvia_; which, believe me, is the greatest affliction of my life; and I have no prospect of ease in the endless toils of life, but that of reposing in the arms of _Sylvia_: some short intervals: pardon my haste, for you cannot guess the weighty business that at present robs you of

_Your_ PHILANDER.

'You lie, false villain-----' replied _Sylvia_ in mighty rage, 'I can guess your business, and can revenge it too; curse on thee, slave, to think me grown as poor in sense as honour: to be cajoled with this--stuff that would never sham a chambermaid: death! am I so forlorn, so despicable, I am not worth the pains of being well dissembled with? Confusion overtake him, misery seize him; may I become his plague while life remains, or public tortures end him!'

This, with all the madness that ever inspired a lunatic, she uttered with tears and violent actions: when _Octavio_ besought her not to afflict herself, and almost wished he did not love a temper so contrary to his own: he told her he was sorry, extremely sorry, to find she still retained so violent a pa.s.sion for a man unworthy of her least concern; when she replied--'Do not mistake my soul, by heaven it is pride, disdain, despite and hate--to think he should believe this dull excuse could pa.s.s upon my judgement; had the false traitor told me that he hated me, or that his faithless date of love was out, I had been tame with all my injuries; but poorly thus to impose upon my wit--By heaven he shall not bear the affront to h.e.l.l in triumph! No more--I have vowed he shall not--my soul has fixed, and now will be at ease--Forgive me, oh _Octavio_;' and letting herself fall into his arms, she soon obtained what she asked for; one touch of the fair charmer could calm him into love and softness.

Thus, after a thousand transports of pa.s.sion on his side, and all the seeming tenderness on hers, the night being far advanced, and new confirmations given and taken on either side of pursuing the happy agreement in the morning, which they had again resolved, they appointed that _Sylvia_ and _Antonet_ should go three miles out of town to a little village, where there was a church, and that _Octavio_ should meet them there to be confirmed and secured of all the happiness he proposed to himself in this world--_Sylvia_ being so wholly bent upon revenge (for the accomplishment of which alone she accepted of _Octavio_) that she had lost all remembrance of her former marriage with _Brilliard_: or if it ever entered into her thought, it was only considered as a sham, nothing designed but to secure her from being taken from _Philander_ by her parents; and, without any respect to the sacred tie, to be regarded no more; nor did she design this with _Octavio_ from any respect she had to the holy state of matrimony, but from a l.u.s.t of vengeance which she would buy at any price, and which she found no man so well able to satisfy as _Octavio_.

But what wretched changes of fortune she met with after this, and what miserable portion of fate was destined to this unhappy wanderer, the last part of _Philander_'s life, and the third and last part of this history, shall most faithfully relate.

_The End of the Second Part._

The Amours of Philander and Sylvia

Part III.

_Octavio_, the brave, the generous, and the amorous, having left _Sylvia_ absolutely resolved to give herself to that doting fond lover, or rather to sacrifice herself to her revenge, that unconsidering unfortunate, whose pa.s.sion had exposed him to all the unreasonable effects of it, returned to his own house, wholly transported with his happy success. He thinks on nothing but vast coming joys: nor did one kind thought direct him back to the evil consequences of what he so hastily pursued; he reflects not on her circ.u.mstances but her charms, not on the infamy he should espouse with _Sylvia_, but on those ravishing pleasures she was capable of giving him: he regards not the reproaches of his friends; but wholly abandoned to love and youthful imaginations, gives a loose to young desire and fancy that deludes him with a thousand soft ideas: he reflects not, that his gentle and easy temper was most unfit to join with that of _Sylvia_, which was the most haughty and humorous in nature; for though she had all the charms of youth and beauty that are conquering in her s.e.x, all the wit and insinuation that even surpa.s.ses youth and beauty; yet to render her character impartially, she had also abundance of disagreeing qualities mixed with her perfections.

She was imperious and proud even to insolence; vain and conceited even to folly; she knew her virtues and her graces too well, and her vices too little; she was very opinionated and obstinate, hard to be convinced of the falsest argument, but very positive in her fancied judgement: abounding in her own sense, and very critical on that of others: censorious, and too apt to charge others with those crimes to which she was herself addicted, or had been guilty of: amorously inclined, and indiscreet in the management of her amours, and constant rather from pride and shame than inclination; fond of catching at every trifling conquest, and loving the triumph, though she hated the slave. Yet she had virtues too that balanced her vices, among which we must allow her to have loved _Philander_ with a pa.s.sion, that nothing but his ingrat.i.tude could have decayed in her heart, nor was it lessened but by a force that gave her a thousand tortures, racks and pangs, which had almost cost her her less valued life; for being of a temper nice in love, and very fiery, apt to fly into rages at every accident that did but touch that tenderest part, her heart, she suffered a world of violence, and extremity of rage and grief by turns, at this affront and inconstancy of _Philander_. Nevertheless she was now so discreet, or rather cunning, to dissemble her resentment the best she could to her generous lover, for whom she had more inclination than she yet had leisure to perceive, and which she now attributes wholly to her revenge; and considering _Octavio_ as the most proper instrument for that, she fancies what was indeed a growing tenderness from the sense of his merit, to be the effects of that revenge she so much thirsted after; and though without she dissembled a calm, within she was all fury and disorder, all storm and distraction: she went to bed racked with a thousand thoughts of despairing love: sometimes all the softness of _Philander_ in their happy enjoyments came in view, and made her sometimes weep, and sometimes faint with the dear loved remembrance; sometimes his late enjoyments with _Calista_, and then she raved and burnt with frantic rage: but oh! at last she found her hope was gone, and wisely fell to argue with her soul. She knew love would not long subsist on the thin diet of despair, and resolving he was never to be retrieved who once had ceased to love, she strove to bend her soul to useful reason, and thinks on all _Octavio_'s obligations, his vows, his a.s.siduity, his beauty, his youth, his fortune, and his generous offer, and with the aid of pride resolves to unfix her heart, and give it better treatment in his bosom: to cease at least to love the false _Philander_, if she could never force her soul to hate him: and though this was not so soon done as thought on, in a heart so prepossesed as that of _Sylvia_'s, yet there is some hope of a recovery, when a woman in that extremity will but think of listening to love from any new adorer, and having once resolved to pursue the fugitive no more with the natural artillery of their sighs and tears, reproaches and complaints, they have recourse to every thing that may soonest chase from the heart those thoughts that oppress it: for nature is not inclined to hurt itself; and there are but very few who find it necessary to die of the disease of love. Of this sort was our _Sylvia_, though to give her her due, never any person who did not indeed die, ever languished under the torments of love, as did that charming and afflicted maid.

While _Sylvia_ remained in these eternal inquietudes, _Antonet_, having quitted her chamber, takes this opportunity to go to that of _Brilliard_, whom she had not visited in two days before, being extremely troubled at his design, which she now found he had on her lady; she had a mind to vent her spleen, and as the proverb says, 'Call Wh.o.r.e first'. _Brilliard_ longed as much to see her to rail at her for being privy to _Octavio_'s approach to _Sylvia_'s bed (as he thought she imagined) and not giving him an account of it, as she used to do of all the secrets of her lady. She finds him alone in her chamber, recovered from all but the torments of his unhappy disappointment. She approached him with all the anger her sort of pa.s.sion could inspire (for love in a mean unthinking soul, is not that glorious thing it is in the brave;) however she had enough to serve her pleasure; for _Brilliard_ was young and handsome, and both being bent on railing without knowing each other's intentions, they both equally flew into high words, he upbraiding her with her infidelity, and she him with his. 'Are not you,' said he (growing more calm) 'the falsest of your tribe, to keep a secret from me that so much concerned me? Is it for this I have refused the addresses of burgomasters' wives and daughters, where I could have made my fortune and my satisfaction, to keep myself entirely for a thing that betrays me, and keeps every secret of her heart from me? False and forsworn, I will be fool no more.' 'It is well, sir,' (replied _Antonet_) 'that you having been the most perfidious man alive, should accuse me who am innocent: come, come sir, you have not carried matters so swimmingly, but I could easily dive into the other night's intrigue and secret.' 'What secret thou false one? Thou art all over secret; a very hopeful bawd at eighteen----go, I hate ye----' At this she wept, and he pursued his railing to out-noise her, 'You thought, because your deed were done in darkness, they were concealed from a lover's eye; no, thou young viper, I saw, I heard, and felt, and satisfied every sense of this thy falsehood, when _Octavio_ was conducted to _Sylvia_'s bed by thee.'

'But what,' said she, 'if instead of _Octavio_ I conducted the perfidious traitor to love, _Brilliard_? Who then was false and perjured?' At this he blushed extremely, which was too visible on his fair face. She being now confirmed she had the better of him, continued--'Let thy confusion,' said she with scorn, 'witness the truth of what I say, and I have been but too well acquainted with that body of yours,' weeping as she spoke, 'to mistake it for that of _Octavio_.' 'Softly, dear _Antonet_,' replied he----'nay, now your tears have calmed me'; and taking her in his arms, sought to appease her by all the arguments of seeming love and tenderness; while she, yet wholly unsatisfied in that cheat of his of going to Sylvia's bed, remained still pouting and very frumpish. But he that had but one argument left, that on all occasions served to convince her, had at last recourse to that, which put her in good humour, and hanging on his neck, she kindly chid him for putting such a trick upon her lady.

He told her, and confirmed it with an oath, that he did it but to try how far she was just to his friend and lord, and not any desire he had for a beauty that was too much of his own complexion to charm him; it was only the brunette and the black, such as herself, that could move him to desire; thus he shams her into perfect peace. 'And why,' said she, 'were you not satisfied that she was false, as well from the a.s.signation, as the trial?' 'Oh no,' said he, 'you women have a thousand arts of gibing, and no man ought to believe you, but put you to the trial.' 'Well,' said she, 'when I had brought you to the bed, when you found her arms stretched out to receive you, why did you not retire like an honest man, and leave her to herself?' 'Oh fie,' said he, 'that had not been to have acted _Octavio_ to the life, but would have made a discovery.' 'Ah,' said she, 'that was your aim to have acted _Octavio_ to the life, I believe, and not to discover my lady's constancy to your lord; but I suppose you have been sworn at the b.u.t.t of _Heidleburgh_, never to kiss the maid, when you can kiss the mistress.' But he renewing his caresses and a.s.severations of love to her, she suffered herself to be convinced of all he had a mind to have her believe. After this she could not contain any secret from him, but told him she had something to say to him, which if he knew, would convince him she had all the pa.s.sion in the world for him: he presses eagerly to know, and she pursues to tell him, it is as much as her life is worth to discover it, and that she lies under the obligation of an oath not to tell it; but kisses and rhetoric prevail, and she cries--'What will you say now, if my lady may marry one of the greatest and most considerable persons in all this country?' 'I should not wonder at her conquest,' (replied _Brilliard_) 'but I should wonder if she should marry.' 'Then cease your wonder,' replied she, 'for she is to-morrow to be married to Count _Octavio_, whom she is to meet at nine in the morning to that end, at a little village a league from this place.' She spoke, and he believes; and finds it true by the raging of his blood, which he could not conceal from _Antonet_, and for which he feigns a thousand excuses to the amorous maid, and charges his concern on that for his lord: at last (after some more discourse on that subject) he pretends to grow sleepy, and hastens her to her chamber; and locking the door after her, he began to reflect on what she had said, and grew to all the torment of rage and jealousy, and all the despairs of a pa.s.sionate lover: and though this hope was not extreme before, yet as lovers do, he found, or fancied a probability (from his lord's inconstancy, and his own right of marriage) that the necessity she might chance to be in of his friendship and a.s.sistance in a strange country, might some happy moment or other render him the blessing he so long had waited for from _Sylvia_; for he ever designed, when either his lord left her, grew cold, or should happen to die, to put in his claim of husband. And the soft familiar way, with which she eternally lived with him, encouraged this hope and design; nay, she had often made him advances to that happy expectation. But this fatal blow had driven him from all his fancied joys, to the most wretched estate of a desperate lover. He traverses his chamber, wounded with a thousand different thoughts, mixed with those of preventing this union the next morning. Sometimes he resolves to fight _Octavio_, for his birth might pretend to it, and he wanted no courage; but he is afraid of being overcome by that gallant man, and either losing his hopes with his life, or if he killed _Octavio_, to be forced from his happiness, or die an ignominious death: sometimes he resolves to own _Sylvia_ for his wife, but then he fears the rage of that dear object of his soul, which he dreads more than death itself: so that tossed from one extreme to another, from one resolution to a hundred, he was not able to fix upon any thing. In this perplexity he remained till day appeared, that day must advance with his undoing, while _Sylvia_ and _Antonet_ were preparing for the design concluded on the last night. This he heard, and every minute that approached gave him new torments, so that now he would have given himself to the Prince of Darkness for a kind disappointment: he was often ready to go and throw himself at her feet, and plead against her enterprise in hand, and to urge the unlawfulness of a double marriage, ready to make vows for the fidelity of _Philander_, though before so much against his own interest, and to tell her all those letters from him were forged: he thought on all things, but nothing remained with him, but despair of every thing. At last the devil and his own subtlety put him upon a prevention, though base, yet the most likely to succeed, in his opinion.

He knew there were many factions in _Holland_, and that the _States_ themselves were divided in their interests, and a thousand jealousies and fears were eternally spread amongst the rabble; there were cabals for every interest, that of the _French_ so prevailing, that of the _English_, and that of the ill.u.s.trious _Orange_, and others for the _States_; so that it was not a difficulty to move any mischief, and pa.s.s it off among the crowd for dangerous consequences. _Brilliard_ knew each division, and which way they were inclined; he knew _Octavio_ was not so well with the _States_ as not to be easily rendered worse; for he was so entirely a creature and favourite of the Prince, that they conceived abundance of jealousies of him which they durst not own. _Brilliard_ besides knew a great man, who having a pique to _Octavio_, might the sooner be brought to receive any ill character of him: to this sullen magistrate he applies himself, and deluding the credulous busy old man with a thousand circ.u.mstantial lies, he discovers to him, that _Octavio_ held a correspondence with the _French_ King to betray the State; and that he caballed to that end with some who were looked upon as _French_ rebels, but indeed were no other than spies to _France_. This coming from a man of that party, and whose lord was a _French_ rebel, gained a perfect credit with the old Sir _Politic_; so that immediately hasting to the state-house, he lays this weighty affair before them, who soon found it reasonable, if not true, at least they feared, and sent out a warrant for the speedy apprehending him; but coming to his house, though early, they found him gone, and being informed which way he took, the messenger pursued him, and found his coach at the door of a _cabaret_, too obscure for his quality, which made them apprehend this was some place of rendezvous where he possibly met with his traitorous a.s.sociators: they send in, and cunningly inquire who he waited for, or who was with him, and they understood he stayed for some gentleman of the _French_ nation; for he had ordered _Sylvia_ to come in man's clothes that she might not be known; and had given order below, that if two _French_ gentlemen came they should be brought to him. This information made the scandal as clear as day, and the messenger no longer doubted of the reasonableness of his warrant, though he was loath to serve it on a person whose father he had served so many years. He waits at some distance from the house unseen, though he could take a view of all; he saw _Octavio_ come often out into the balcony, and look with longing eyes towards the road that leads to the town; he saw him all rich and gay as a young bridegroom, lovely and young as the morning that flattered him with so fair and happy a day; at last he saw two gentlemen alight at the door, and giving their horses to a page to walk the while, they ran up into the chamber where _Octavio_ was waiting, who had already sent his page to prepare the priest in the village-church to marry them. You may imagine, with what love and joy the ravished youth approached the idol of his soul, and she, who beholds him in more beauty than ever yet she thought he had appeared, pleased with all things he had on, with the gay morning, the flowery field, the air, the little journey, and a thousand diverting things, made no resistance to those fond embraces that pressed her a thousand times with silent transport, and falling tears of eager love and pleasure; but even in that moment of content, she forgot _Philander_, and received all the satisfaction so soft a lover could dispense: while they were mutually thus exchanging looks, and almost hearts, the messenger came into the room, and as civilly as possible told _Octavio_ he had a warrant for him, to secure him as a traitor to the State, and a spy for _France_. You need not be told the surprise and astonishment he was in; however he obeyed. The messenger turning to _Sylvia_, cried, 'Sir, though I can hardly credit this crime that is charged to my lord, yet the finding him here with two _French_ gentlemen, gives me some more fears that there may be something in it; and it would do well if you would deliver yourselves into my hands for the farther clearing this gentleman.' This foolish grave speech of the messenger had like to have put _Octavio_ into a loud laughter, he addressing himself to two women for two men: but _Sylvia_ replied, 'Sir, I hope you do not take us for so little friends to the gallant _Octavio_, to abandon him in this misfortune; no, we will share it with him, be it what it will.' To this the generous lover blushing with kind surprise, bowed, and kissing her hand with transport, called her his charming friend; and so all three being guarded back in _Octavio_'s coach they return to the town, and to the house of the messenger, which made a great noise all over, that _Octavio_ was taken with two _French_ Jesuits plotting to fire _Amsterdam_, and a thousand things equally ridiculous. They were all three lodged together in one house, that of the messenger, which was very fine, and fit to entertain any persons of quality; while _Brilliard_, who did not like that part of the project, bethought him of a thousand ways how to free her from thence; for he designed, as soon as _Octavio_ should be taken, to have got her to have quitted the town under pretence of being taken upon suspicion of holding correspondence with him, because they were _French_; but her delivering herself up had not only undone all his design, but had made it unsafe for him to stay. While he was thus bethinking himself what he should do, _Octavio_'s uncle, who was one of the _States_, extremely affronted at the indignity put upon his nephew and his sole heir, the darling of his heart and eyes, commands that this informer may be secured; and accordingly _Brilliard_ was taken into custody, who giving himself over for a lost man, resolves to put himself upon _Octavio_'s mercy, by telling him the motives that induced him to this violent and ungenerous course. It was some days before the Council thought fit to call for _Octavio_, to hear what he had to say for himself; in the mean time, he having not had permission yet to see _Sylvia_; and being extremely desirous of that happiness, he bethought himself that the messenger, having been in his father's service, might have so much respect for the son, as to allow him to speak to that fair charmer, provided he might be a witness to what he should say: he sends for him, and demanded of him where those two fair prisoners were lodged who came with him in the morning; he told him, in a very good apartment on the same floor, and that they were very well accommodated, and seemed to have no other trouble but what they suffered for him. 'I hope, my Lord,' added he--'your confinement will not be long; for I hear there is a person taken up, who has confessed he did it for a revenge on you.' At this _Octavio_ was very well pleased, and asked him who it was? And he told him a _French_ gentleman belonging to the Count _Philander_, who about six months ago was obliged to quit the town as an enemy to _France_. He soon knew it to be _Brilliard_, and comparing this action with some others of his lately committed, he no longer doubts it the effects of his jealousy.

He asked the messenger, if it were impossible to gain so much favour of him, as to let him visit those two _French_ gentlemen, he being by while he was with them: the keeper soon granted his request, and replied--There was no hazard he would not run to serve him; and immediately putting back the hangings, with one of those keys he had in his hand, he opened a door in his chamber that led into a gallery of fine pictures, and from thence they pa.s.sed into the apartment of _Sylvia_: as soon as he came in he threw himself at her feet, and she received him, and took him up into her arms with all the transports of joy a soul (more than ever possessed with love for him) could conceive; and though they all appeared of the masculine s.e.x, the messenger soon perceived his error, and begged a thousand pardons.

_Octavio_ makes haste to tell her his opinion of the cause of all this trouble to both; and she easily believed, when she heard _Brilliard_ was taken, that it was as he imagined; for he had been found too often faulty not to be suspected now. This thought brought a great calm to both their spirits, and almost reduced them to the first soft tranquillity, with which they began the day: for he protested his innocence a thousand times, which was wholly needless, for the generous maid believed, before he spoke, he could not be guilty of the sin of treachery. He renews his vows to her of eternal love, and that he would perform what they were so unluckily prevented from doing this morning; and that though possibly by this unhappy adventure, his design might have taken air, and have arrived to the knowledge of his uncle, yet in spite of all opposition of friends, or the malice of _Brilliard_, he would pursue his glorious design of marrying her, though he were forced for it to wander in the farthest parts of the earth with his lovely prize. He begs she will not disesteem him for this scandal on his fame; for he was all love, all soft desire, and had no other design, than that of making himself master of that greatest treasure in the world; that of the possessing, the most charming, the all-ravishing _Sylvia_: in return, she paid him all the vows that could secure an infidel in love, she made him all the endearing advances a heart could wish, wholly given up to tender pa.s.sion, insomuch that he believes, and is the gayest man that ever was blest by love. And the messenger, who was present all this while, found that this caballing with the _French_ spies, was only an innocent design to give himself away to a fine young lady: and therefore gave them all the freedom they desired, and which they made use of to the most advantage love could direct or youth inspire.

This suffering with _Octavio_ begot a pity and compa.s.sion in the heart of _Sylvia_, and that grew up to love; for he had all the charms that could inspire, and every hour was adding new fire to her heart, which at last burnt into a flame; such power has mighty obligation on a heart that has any grateful sentiments! and yet, when she was absent a-nights from _Octavio_, and thought on _Philander_'s, pa.s.sion for _Calista_, she would rage and rave, and find the effects of wondrous love, and wondrous pride, and be even ready to make vows against _Octavio_: but those were fits that seldomer seized her now, and every fit was like a departing ague, still weaker than the former, and at the sight of _Octavio_ all would vanish, her blushes would rise and discover the soft thoughts her heart conceived for the approaching lover; and she soon found that vulgar error, of the impossibility of loving more than once. It was four days they thus remained without being called to the Council, and every day brought its new joys along with it. They were never asunder, never interrupted with any visit, but one for a few moments in a day by _Octavio_'s uncle, and then he would go into his own apartment to receive him: he offered to bail him out; but _Octavio_, who had found more real joy there, than in any part of the earth besides, evaded the obligation, by telling his uncle, he would be obliged to nothing but his innocence for his liberty: so would get rid of the fond old gentleman, who never knew a pa.s.sion but for his darling nephew, and returned with as much joy to the lodgings of _Sylvia_, as if he had been absent a week, which is an age to a lover; there they sometimes would play at cards, where he would lose considerable sums to her, or at hazard, or be studying what they should do next to pa.s.s the hours most to her content; not but he had rather have lain eternally at her feet, gazing, doting, and saying a thousand fond things, which at every view he took were conceived in his soul: and though but this last minute he had finished, saying all that love could dictate, he found his heart oppressed with a vast store of new softness, which he languished to unload in her ravishing bosom. But she, who was not arrived to his pitch of loving, diverts his softer hours with play sometimes, and otherwhile with making him follow her into the gallery, which was adorned with pleasant pictures, all of _Hempskerk_'s hand, which afforded great variety of objects very droll and antique, _Octavio_ finding something to say of every one that might be of advantage to his own heart; for whatever argument was in dispute, he would be sure to bring it home to the pa.s.sion he had for _Sylvia_; it should end in love, however remotely begun: so strange an art has love to turn all things to the advantage of a lover!

It was thus they pa.s.sed their time, and nothing was wanting that lavish experience could procure, and every minute he advances to new freedoms, and unspeakable delights, but still such as might hitherto be allowed with honour; he sighs and wishes, he languishes and dies for more, but dares not utter the meaning of one motion of breath; for he loved so very much, that every look from those fair eyes charmed him, awed him to a respect that robbed him of many happy moments, a bolder lover would have turned to his advantage, and he treated her as if she had been an unspotted maid; with caution of offending, he had forgot that general rule, that where the sacred laws of honour are once invaded, love makes the easier conquest.

All this while you may imagine _Brilliard_ endured no little torment; he could not on the one side, determine what the _States_ would do with him, when once they should find him a false accuser of so great a man; and on the other side, he suffered a thousand pains and jealousies from love; he knew too well the charms and power of _Octavio_, and what effects importunity and opportunity have on the temper of feeble woman: he found the _States_ did not make so considerable a matter of his being impeached, as to confine him strictly, and he dies with the fears of those happy moments he might possibly enjoy with _Sylvia_, where there might be no spies about her to give him any kind intelligence; and all that could afford him any glimpse of consolation, was, that while they were thus confined, he was out of fear of their being married. _Octavio_'s uncle this while was not idle, but taking it for a high indignity his nephew should remain so long without being heard, he moved it to the Council, and accordingly they sent for him to the state-house the next morning, where _Brilliard_ was brought to confront him; whom, as soon as _Octavio_ saw, with a scornful smile, he cried,--'It is well, _Brilliard_, that you, who durst not fight me fairly, should find out this n.o.bler way of ridding yourself of a rival: I am glad at least that I have no more honourable a witness against me.' _Brilliard_, who never before wanted a.s.surance, at this reproach was wholly confounded; for it was not from any villainy in his nature, but the absolute effects of mad and desperate pa.s.sion, which put him on the only remedy that could relieve him; and looking on _Octavio_ with modest blushes, that half pleaded for him, he cried--'Yes, my lord, I am your accuser, and come to charge your innocence with the greatest of crimes, and you ought to thank me for my accusation; when you shall know it is regard to my own honour, violent love for _Sylvia_, and extreme respect to your lordship, has made me thus saucy with your unspotted fame.'

'How,' replied _Octavio_, 'shall I thank you for accusing me with a plot upon the State?' 'Yes, my lord,' replied _Brilliard_; 'and yet you had a plot to betray the State, and by so new a way, as could be found out by none but so great and brave a man'--'Heavens,' replied _Octavio_, enraged, 'this is an impudence, that nothing but a traitor to his own king, and one bred up in plots and mischiefs, could have invented: I betray my own country?'--'Yes, my lord,' cried he (more briskly than before, seeing _Octavio_ colour so at him) 'to all the looseness of unthinking youth, to all the breach of laws both human and divine; if all the youth should follow your example, you would betray posterity itself, and only mad confusion would abound. In short, my lord, that lady who was taken with you by the messenger, was my wife.' And going towards _Sylvia_, who was struck as with a thunder-bolt, he seized her hand, and cried,--while all stood gazing on--This lady, sir, I mean----she is my wife, my lawful married wife.'

At this _Sylvia_ could no longer hold her patience within its bounds, but with that other hand he had left her, she struck him a box on the ear, that almost staggered him, coming unawares; and as she struck, she cried aloud, 'Thou liest, base villain----and I will be revenged;'

and flinging herself out of his hand, she got on the other side of _Octavio_, while the whole company remained confounded at what they saw and heard. 'How,' cried out old _Sebastian_, uncle to _Octavio_, 'a woman, this? By my troth, sweet lady, (if you be one) methought you were a very pretty fellow.' And turning to _Brilliard_, he cried,--'Why, what sir, then it seems all this noise of betraying the State was but a cuckold's dream. Hah! and this wonderful and dangerous plot, was but one upon your wife, sir; hah,----was it so? Marry, sir, at this rate, I rather think it is you have a design of betraying the State----you cuckoldy knaves, that bring your handsome wives to seduce our young senators from their sobriety and wits.' 'Are these the recompenses,' replied _Brilliard_, 'you give the injured, and in lieu of restoring me my right, am I reproached with the most scandalous infamy that can befall a man?' 'Well, sir,' replied _Sebastian_, 'is this all you have to charge this gentleman with?' At which he bowed, and was silent----and _Sebastian_ continued--'If your wife, sir, have a mind to my nephew, or he to her, it should have been your care to have forbid it, or prevented it, by keeping her under lock and key, if no other way to be secured; and, sir, we do not sit here to relieve fools and cuckolds; if your lady will be civil to my nephew, what is that to us: let her speak for herself: what say you, madam?'--'I say,'

replied _Sylvia_, 'that this fellow is mad and raves, that he is my va.s.sal, my servant, my slave; but, after this, unworthy of the meanest of these t.i.tles.' This she spoke with a disdain that sufficiently shewed the pride and anger of her soul----'La you, sir,' replied _Sebastian_, 'you are discharged your lady's service; it is a plain case she has more mind to the young Count than the husband, and we cannot compel people to be honest against their inclinations.' And coming down from the seat where he sat, he embraced _Octavio_ a hundred times, and told the board, he was extremely glad they found the mighty plot, but a vagary of youth, and the spleen of a jealous husband or lover, or whatsoever other malicious thing; and desired the angry man might be discharged, since he had so just a provocation as the loss of a mistress. So all laughing at the jest, that had made so great a noise among the grave and wise, they freed them all: and _Sebastian_ advised his nephew, that the next cuckold he made, he would make a friend of him first, that he might hear of no more complaints against him. But _Octavio_ very gravely replied; 'Sir, you have infinitely mistaken the character of this lady, she is a person of too great quality for this raillery; at more leisure you shall have her story.' While he was speaking this, and their discharges were making, _Sylvia_ confounded with shame, indignation, and anger, goes out, and taking _Octavio_'s coach that stood at the gate, went directly to his house; for she resolved to go no more where _Brilliard_ was. After this, _Sebastian_ fell seriously to good advice, and earnestly besought his darling to leave off those wild extravagancies that had so long made so great a discourse all the province over, where nothing but his splendid amours, treats, b.a.l.l.s, and magnificences of love, was the business of the town, and that he had forborne to tell him of it, and had hitherto justified his actions, though they had not deserved it; and he doubted this was the lady to whom for these six or eight months he heard he had so entirely dedicated himself. He desires him to quit this lady, or if he will pursue his love, to do it discreetly, to love some unmarried woman, and not injure his neighbours; to all which he blushed and bowed, and silently seemed to thank him for his grave counsel. And _Brilliard_ having received his discharge, and advice how he provoked the displeasure of the _States_ any more, by accusing of great persons, he was ordered to ask _Octavio_'s pardon; but, in lieu of that, he came up to him, and challenged him to fight him for the injustice he had done him, in taking from him his wife; for he was sure he was undone in her favour, and that thought made him mad enough to put himself on this second extravagancy: however, this was not so silently managed but _Sebastian_ perceived it, and was so enraged at the young fellow for his second insolence, that he was again confined, and sent back to prison, where he swore he should suffer the utmost of the law; and the Council breaking up, every one departed to his own home. But never was man ravished with excess of joy as _Octavio_ was, to find _Sylvia_ meet him with extended arms on the stair-case, whom he did not imagine to have found there, nor knew he how he stood in the heart of the charmer of his own, since the affront she had received in the court from those that however did not know her; for they did not imagine this was that lady, sister to _Philander_, of whose beauty they had heard so much, and her face being turned from the light, the old gentleman did not so much consider or see it. _Sylvia_ came into his house the back way, through the stables and garden, and had the good fortune to be seen by none of his family but the coachman, who brought her home, whom she conjured not to speak of it to the rest of his servants: and unseen of any body she got into his apartment, for often she had been there at treats and b.a.l.l.s with _Philander_. She was alone; for _Antonet_ stayed to see what became of her false lover, and, after he was seized again, retired to her lodging the most disconsolate woman in the world, for having lost her hopes of _Brilliard_, to whom she had engaged all that honour she had. But when she missed her lady there, she accused herself with all the falsehood in the world, and fell to repent her treachery. She sends the page to inquire at _Ocatvio_'s house, but no body there could give him any intelligence; so that the poor amorous youth returning without hope, endured all the pain of a hopeless lover; for _Octavio_ had anew charmed his coachman: and calling up an ancient woman who was his house-keeper, who had been his nurse, he acquainted her with the short history of his pa.s.sion for _Sylvia_, and ordered her to give her attendance on the treasure of his life; he bid her prepare all things as magnificent as she could in that apartment he designed her, which was very rich and gay, and towards a fine garden. The hangings and beds all glorious, and fitter for a monarch than a subject; the finest pictures the world afforded, flowers in-laid with silver and ivory, gilded roofs, carved wainscot, tables of plate, with all the rest of the movables in the chambers of the same, all of great value, and all was perfumed like an altar, or the marriage bed of some young king.

Here _Sylvia_ was designed to lodge, and hither _Octavio_ conducted her; and setting her on a couch while the supper was getting ready, he sits himself down by her, and his heart being ready to burst with grief, at the thought of the claim which was laid to her by _Brilliard_, he silently views her, while tears were ready to break from his fixed eyes, and sighs stopped what he would fain have spoke; while she (wholly confounded with shame, guilt, and disappointment, for she could not imagine that _Brilliard_ could have had the impudence to have claimed her for a wife) fixed her fair eyes to the earth, and durst not behold the languishing _Octavio_. They remained thus a long time silent, she not daring to defend herself from a crime, of which she knew too well she was guilty, nor he daring to ask her a question to which the answer might prove so fatal; he fears to know what he dies to be satisfied in, and she fears to discover too late a secret, which was the only one she had concealed from him.

_Octavio_ runs over in his mind a thousand thoughts that perplex him, of the probability of her being married; he considers how often he had found her with that happy young man, who more freely entertained her than servants use to do. He now considers how he had seen them once on a bed together, when _Sylvia_ was in the disorder of a yielding mistress, and _Brilliard_ of a ravished lover; he considers how he has found them alone at cards and dice, and often entertaining her with freedoms of a husband, and how he wholly managed her affairs, commanded her servants like their proper master, and was in full authority of all. These, and a thousand more circ.u.mstances, confirm _Octavio_ in all his fears: a thousand times she is about to speak, but either fear to lose _Octavio_ by clear confession, or to run herself into farther error by denying the matter of fact, stops her words, and she only blushes and sighs at what she dares not tell; and if by chance their speaking eyes meet, they would both decline them hastily again, as afraid to find there what their language could not confess. Sometimes he would press her hand and sigh.--'Ah, _Sylvia_, you have undone my quiet'; to which she would return no answer, but sigh, and now rising from the couch, she walked about the chamber as sad and silent as death, attending when he should have advanced in speaking to her, though she dreads the voice she wishes to hear, and he waits for her reply, though the mouth that he adores should deliver poison and daggers to his heart. While thus they remained in the most silent and sad entertainment (that ever was between lovers that had so much to say) the page, which _Octavio_ only trusts to wait, brought him this letter.

BRILLIARD _to_ OCTAVIO.

_My Lord_,

I am too sensible of my many high offences to your lordship, and have as much penitence for my sin committed towards you as it is possible to conceive; but when I implore a pardon from a lover, who by his own pa.s.sion may guess at the violent effects of my despairing flame, I am yet so vain to hope it. _Antonet_ gave me the intelligence of your design, and raised me up to a madness that hurried me to that barbarity against your unspotted honour. I own the baseness of the fact, but lovers are not, my lord, always guided by rules of justice and reason; or, if I had, I should have killed the fair adulteress that drew you to your undoing, and who merits more your hate than your regard; and who having first violated her marriage-vow to me with _Philander_, would sacrifice us both to you, and at the same time betray you to a marriage that cannot but prove fatal to you, as it is most unlawful in her; so that, my lord, if I have injured you, I have at the same time saved you from a sin and ruin, and humbly implore that you will suffer the good I have rendered you in the last, to atone for the ill I did you in the first. If I have accused you of a design against the State, it was to save you from that of the too subtle and too charming _Sylvia_, which none but myself could have s.n.a.t.c.hed you from. It is true, I might have acted something more worthy of my birth and education; but, my lord, I knew the power of _Sylvia_; and if I should have sent you the knowledge of this, when I sent the warrant for the security of your person, the haughty creature would have prevailed above all my truths with the eloquence of love, and you had yielded and been betrayed worse by her, than by the most ungenerous measures I took to prevent it. Suffer this reason, my lord, to plead for me in that heart where _Sylvia_ reigns, and shews how powerful she is every where. Pardon all the faults of a most unfortunate man undone by love, and by your own, guess what his pa.s.sion would put him on, who aims or wishes at least for the entire possession of _Sylvia_, though it was never absolutely hoped by the most unfortunate

BRILLIARD.

At the beginning of this letter _Octavio_ hoped it contained the confession of his fault in claiming _Sylvia_; he hoped he would have owned it done in order to his service to his lord, or his love to _Sylvia_, or any thing but what it really was; but when he read on--and found that he yet confirmed his claim, he yielded to all the grief that could sink a heart over-burdened with violent love; he fell down on the couch where he was sat, and only calling _Sylvia_ with a dying groan, he held out his hand, in which the letter remained, and looked on her with eyes that languished with death, love, and despair; while she, who already feared from whom it came, received it with disdain, shame, and confusion: and _Octavio_ recovering a little--cried in a faint voice--'See charming, cruel fair--see how much my soul adores you, when even this--cannot extinguish one spark of the flame you have kindled in my soul.' At this she blushed, and bowed with a graceful modesty that was like to have given the lie to all the accusations against her: she reads the letter, while he greedily fixes his eyes upon her face as she reads, observing with curious search every motion there, all killing and adorable. He saw her blushes sometimes rise, then sink again to their proper fountain, her heart; there swell and rise, and beat against her breast that had no other covering than a thin shirt