Love-Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister Part 8

BRILLIARD.

POSTSCRIPT.

_My lord, the groom shall set forward with your coach horses tomorrow morning, according to your order_.

Having writ this, he read it over; not to see whether it were witty or eloquent, or writ up to the sense of so good a judge as _Philander_, but to see whether he had cast it for his purpose; for there his masterpiece was to be shewn; and having read it, he doubted whether the relation of _Sylvia_'s griefs were not too moving, and whether they might not serve to revive his fading love, which were intended only as a demonstration of his own pity and compa.s.sion, that from thence the deceived lover might with the more ease entertain a belief in what he hinted of her levity, when he was to make that out, as he now had but touched upon it, for he would not have it thought the business of malice to _Sylvia_, but duty and respect to _Philander_: that thought reconciled him to the first part without alteration; and he fancied he had said enough in the latter, to give any man of love and sense a jealousy which might inspire a young lover in pursuit of a new mistress, with a revenge that might wholly turn to his advantage; for now every ray gave him light enough to conduct him to hope, and he believed nothing too difficult for his love, nor what his invention could not conquer: he fancied himself a very _Machiavel_ already, and almost promised himself the charming _Sylvia_. With these thoughts he seals up his letters, and hastes to _Sylvia_'s chamber for her farther commands, having in his politic transports forgotten he had left _Octavio_ with her. _Octavio_, who no sooner had seen _Brilliard_ quit the chamber all trembling and disordered, after having given him entrance, but the next step was to the feet of the new recovered languishing beauty, who not knowing any thing of the freedom the daring husband lover had taken, was not at all surprised to hear _Octavio_ cry (kneeling before her) 'Ah madam, I no longer wonder you use _Octavio_ with such rigour;' then sighing declined his melancholy eyes, where love and jealousy made themselves too apparent; while she believing he had only reproached her want of ceremony at his entrance, checking herself, she started from the bed, and taking him by the hand to raise him, she cried, 'Rise, my lord, and pardon the omission of that respect which was not wanting but with even life itself.'

_Octavio_ answered, 'Yes, madam, but you took care, not to make the world absolutely unhappy in your eternal loss, and therefore made choice of such a time to die in, when you were sure of a skilful person at hand to bring you back to life'--'My lord----' said she (with an innocent wonder in her eyes, and an ignorance that did not apprehend him) 'I mean, _Brilliard_,' said he, 'whom I found sufficiently disordered to make me believe he took no little pains to restore you to the world again.' This he spoke with such an air, as easily made her imagine he was a lover to the degree of jealousy, and therefore (beholding him with a look that told him her disdain before she spoke) she replied hastily, 'My lord, if _Brilliard_ have expressed, by any disorder or concern, his kind sense of my sufferings, I am more obliged to him for it, than I am to you for your opinion of my virtue; and I shall hereafter know how to set a value both on the one and the other, since what he wants in quality and ability to serve me, he sufficiently makes good with his respect and duty.' At that she would have quitted him, but he (still kneeling) held her train of her gown, and besought her, with all the eloquence of moving and pet.i.tioning love, that she would pardon the effect of a pa.s.sion that could not run into less extravagancy at a sight so new and strange, as that she should in a morning, with only her night-gown thrown loosely about her lovely body, and which left a thousand charms to view, alone receive a man into her chamber, and make fast the door upon them, which when (from his importunity) it was opened he found her all ruffled, and almost fainting on her bed, and a young blushing youth start from her arms, with trembling limbs, and a heart that beat time to the tune of active love, faltering in his speech, as if scarce yet he had recruited the sense he had so happily lost in the amorous encounter: with that, surveying of herself, as she stood, in a great gla.s.s, which she could not hinder herself from doing, she found indeed her night-linen, her gown, and the bosom of her shift in such disorder, as, if at least she had yet any doubt remaining that _Brilliard_ had not treated her well, she however found cause enough to excuse _Octavio_'s opinion: weighing all the circ.u.mstances together, and adjusting her linen and gown with blushes that almost appeared criminal, she turned to _Octavio_, who still held her, and still begged her pardon, a.s.suring him, upon her honour, her love to _Philander_, and her friendship for him, that she was perfectly innocent, and that _Brilliard_, though he should have quality and all other advantages which he wanted to render him acceptable, yet there was in nature something which compelled her to a sort of coldness and disgust to his person; for she had so much the more abhorrence to him as he was a husband, but that was a secret to _Octavio_; but she continued speaking--and cried, 'No, could I be brought to yield to any but _Philander_, I own I find charms enough in _Octavio_ to make a conquest; but since the possession of that dear man is all I ask of heaven, I charge my soul with a crime, when I but hear love from any other, therefore I conjure you, if you have any satisfaction in my conversation, never to speak of love more to me, for if you do, honour will oblige me to make vows against seeing you: all the freedoms of friendship I will allow, give you the liberties of a brother, admit you alone by night, or any way but that of love; but that is a reserve of my soul which is only for _Philander_, and the only one that ever shall be kept from _Octavio_.' She ended speaking, and raised him with a smile; and he with a sigh told her, she must command: then she fell to telling him how she had sent for _Brilliard_, and all the discourse that pa.s.sed; with the reason of her falling into a swoon, in which she continued a moment or two; and while she told it she blushed with a secret fear, that in that trance some freedoms might be taken which she durst not confess: but while she spoke, our still more pa.s.sionate lover devoured her with his eyes, fixed his very soul upon her charms of speaking and looking, and was a thousand times (urged by transporting pa.s.sion) ready to break all her dictates, and vow himself her eternal slave; but he feared the result, and therefore kept himself within the bounds of seeming friendship; so that after a thousand things she said of _Philander_, he took his leave to go to dinner; but as he was going out he saw _Brilliard_ enter, who, as I said, had forgot he left _Octavio_ with her; but in a moment recollecting himself, he blushed at the apprehension, that they might make his disorder the subject of their discourse; so what with that, and the sight of the dear object of his late disappointed pleasures, he had much ado to a.s.sume an a.s.surance to approach; but _Octavio_ pa.s.sed out, and gave him a little release. _Sylvia_'s confusion was almost equal to his, for she looked on him as a ravisher; but how to find that truth which she was very curious to know, she called up all the arts of women to instruct her in; by threats she knew it was in vain, therefore she a.s.sumed an artifice, which indeed was almost a stranger to her heart, that of jilting him out of a secret which she knew he wanted generosity to give handsomely; and meeting him with a smile, which she forced, she cried, 'How now, _Brilliard_, are you so faint-hearted a soldier, you cannot see a lady die without being terrified?' 'Rather, madam,' (replied he blushing anew) 'so soft-hearted, I cannot see the loveliest person in the world fainting in my arms, without being disordered with grief and fear, beyond the power of many days to resettle again.' At which she approached him, who stood near the door, and shutting it, she took him by the hand, and smiling, cried, 'And had you no other business for your heart but grief and fear, when a fair lady throws herself into your arms? It ought to have had some kinder effect on a person of _Brilliard_'s youth and complexion.' And while she spoke this she held him by the wrist, and found on the sudden his pulse to beat more high, and his heart to heave his bosom with sighs, which now he no longer took care to hide, but with a transported joy, he cried, 'Oh madam, do not urge me to a confession that must undo me, without making it criminal by my discovery of it; you know I am your slave----' when she with a pretty wondering smile, cried--'What, a lover too, and yet so dull!' 'Oh charming _Sylvia_,' (says he, and falling on his knees) 'give my profound respect a kinder name:' to which she answered,--'You that know your sentiments may best instruct me by what name to call them, and you _Brilliard_ may do it without fear----You saw I did not struggle in your arms, nor strove I to defend the kisses which you gave----' 'Oh heavens,' cried he, transported with what she said, 'is it possible that you could know of my presumption, and favour it too?

I will no longer then curse those unlucky stars that sent _Octavio_ just in the blessed minute to s.n.a.t.c.h me from my heaven, the lovely victim lay ready for the sacrifice, all prepared to offer; my hands, my eyes, my lips were tired with pleasure, but yet they were not satisfied; oh there was joy beyond those ravishments, of which one kind minute more had made me absolute lord:' 'Yes, and the next,' said she, 'had sent this to your heart'----s.n.a.t.c.hing a penknife that lay on her toilet, where she had been writing, which she offered so near to his bosom, that he believed himself already pierced, so sensibly killing her words, her motion, and her look; he started from her, and she threw away the knife, and walked a turn or two about the chamber, while he stood immovable, with his eyes fixed on the earth, and his thoughts on nothing but a wild confusion, which he vowed afterwards he could give no account of. But as she turned she beheld him with some compa.s.sion, and remembering how he had it in his power to expose her in a strange country, and own her for a wife, she believed it necessary to hide her resentments; and cried, '_Brilliard_, for the friendship your lord has for you I forgive you; but have a care you never raise your thoughts to a presumption of that nature more: do not hope I will ever fall below _Philander_'s love; go and repent your crime----and expect all things else from my favour----' At this he left her with a bow that had some malice in it, and she returned into her dressing-room.--After dinner _Octavio_ writes her this letter, which his page brought.

OCTAVIO _to_ SYLVIA.

_Madam_,

'Tis true, that in obedience to your commands, I begged your pardon for the confession I made you of my pa.s.sion: but since you could not but see the contradiction of my tongue in my eyes, and hear it but too well confirmed by my sighs, why will you confine me to the formalities of a silent languishment, unless to increase my flame with my pain?

You conjure me to see you often, and at the same time forbid me speaking my pa.s.sion, and this bold intruder comes to tell you now, it is impossible to obey the first, without disobliging the last; and since the crime of adoring you exceeds my disobedience in not waiting on you, be pleased at least to pardon that fault, which my profound respect to the lovely _Sylvia_ makes me commit; for it is impossible to see you, and not give you an occasion of reproaching me: if I could make a truce with my eyes, and, like a mortified capuchin, look always downwards, not daring to behold the glorious temptations of your beauty, yet you wound a thousand ways besides; your touches inflame me, and your voice has music in it, that strikes upon my soul with ravishing tenderness; your wit is unresistible and piercing; your very sorrows and complaints have charms that make me soft without the aid of love: but pity joined with pa.s.sion raises a flame too mighty for my conduct! And I in transports every way confess it: yes, yes, upbraid me, call me traitor and ungrateful, tell me my friendship is false; but, _Sylvia_, yet be just, and say my love was true, say only he had seen the charming _Sylvia_; and who is he that after that would not excuse the rest in one so absolutely born to be undone by love, as is her destined slave,

OCTAVIO.

POSTSCRIPT.

_Madam, among some rarities I this morning saw, I found these trifles_ Florio _brings you, which because uncommon I presume to send you._

_Sylvia_, notwithstanding the seeming severity of her commands, was well enough pleased to be disobeyed; and women never pardon any fault more willingly than one of this nature, where the crime gives so infallible a demonstration of their power and beauty; nor can any of their s.e.x be angry in their hearts for being thought desirable; and it was not with pain that she saw him obstinate in his pa.s.sion, as you may believe by her answering his letters, nor ought any lover to despair when he receives denial under his mistress's own hand, which she sent in this to _Octavio_.

SYLVIA _to_ OCTAVIO.

You but ill judge of my wit, or humour, _Octavio_, when you send me such a present, and such a billet, if you believe I either receive the one, or the other, as you designed: in obedience to me you will no more tell me of your love, and yet at the same time you are breaking your word from one end of the paper to the other. Out of respect to me you will see me no more, and yet are bribing me with presents, believing you have found out the surest way to a woman's heart. I must needs confess, _Octavio_, there is great eloquence in a pair of bracelets of five thousand crowns: it is an argument to prove your pa.s.sion, that has more prevailing reason in it, than either _Seneca_ or _Tully_ could have urged; nor can a lover write or speak in any language so significant, and very well to be understood, as in that silent one of presenting. The malicious world has a long time agreed to reproach poor women with cruel, unkind, insensible, and dull; when indeed it is those men that are in fault who want the right way of addressing, the true and secret arts of moving, that sovereign remedy against disdain. It is you alone, my lord, like a young _Columbus_, that have found the direct, unpractised way to that little and so much desired world, the favour of the fair; nor could love himself have pointed his arrows with any thing more successful for his conquest of hearts: but mine, my lord, like _Scaeva_'s shield, is already so full of arrows, shot from _Philander_'s eyes, it has no room for any other darts: take back your presents then, my lord, and when you make them next be sure you first consider the receiver: for know, _Octavio_, maids of my quality ought to find themselves secure from addresses of this nature, unless they first invite. You ought to have seen advances in my freedoms, consenting in my eyes, or (that usual vanity of my s.e.x) a thousand little trifling arts of affectation to furnish out a conquest, a forward complaisance to every gaudy c.o.xcomb, to fill my train with amorous cringing captives, this might have justified your pretensions; but on the contrary, my eyes and thoughts, which never strayed from the dear man I love, were always bent to earth when gazed upon by you; and when I did but fear you looked with love, I entertained you with _Philander_'s, praise, his wondrous beauty, and his wondrous love, and left nothing untold that might confirm you how much impossible it was, I ever should love again, that I might leave you no room for hope; and since my story has been so unfortunate to alarm the whole world with a conduct so fatal, I made no scruple of telling you with what joy and pride I was undone; if this encourage you, if _Octavio_ have sentiments so meanly poor of me, to think, because I yielded to _Philander_, his hopes should be advanced, I banish him for ever from my sight, and after that disdain the little service he can render the never to be altered

SYLVIA.

This letter she sent him back by his page, but not the bracelets, which were indeed very fine, and very considerable: at the same time she threatened him with banishment, she so absolutely expected to be disobeyed in all things of that kind, that she dressed herself that day to advantage, which since her arrival she had never done in her own habits: what with her illness, and _Philander_'s absence, a careless negligence had seized her, till roused and weakened to the thoughts of beauty by _Octavio_'s love, she began to try its force, and that day dressed. While she was so employed, the page hastes with the letter to his lord, who changed colour at the sight of it ere he received it; not that he hoped it brought love, it was enough she would but answer, though she railed: 'Let her' (said he opening it) 'vow she hates me: let her call me traitor, and unjust, so she take the pains to tell it this way;' for he knew well those that argue will yield, and only she that sends him back his own letters without reading them can give despair. He read therefore without a sigh, nor complained he on her rigours; and because it was too early yet to make his visit, to shew the impatience of his love, as much as the reality and resolution of it, he bid his page wait, and sent her back this answer.

OCTAVIO _to_ SYLVIA.

Fair angry _Sylvia_, how has my love offended? Has its excess betrayed the least part of that respect due to your birth and beauty? Though I am young as the gay ruddy morning, and vigorous as the gilded sun at noon, and amorous as that G.o.d, when with such haste he chased young _Daphne_ over the flowery plain, it never made me guilty of a thought that _Sylvia_ might not pity and allow. Nor came that trifling present to plead for any wish, or mend my eloquence, which you with such disdain upbraid me with; the bracelets came not to be raffled for your love, nor pimp to my desires: youth scorns those common aids; no, let dull age pursue those ways of merchandise, who only buy up hearts at that vain price, and never make a barter, but a purchase. Youth has a better way of trading in love's markets, and you have taught me too well to judge of, and to value beauty, to dare to bid so cheaply for it: I found the toy was gay, the work was neat, and fancy new; and know not any thing they would so well adorn as _Sylvia_'s lovely hands: I say, if after this I should have been the mercenary fool to have dunned you for return, you might have used me thus----Condemn me ere you find me sin in thought! That part of it was yet so far behind it was scarce arrived in wish. You should have stayed till it approached more near, before you d.a.m.ned it to eternal silence. To love, to sigh, to weep, to pray, and to complain; why one may be allowed it in devotion; but you, nicer than heaven itself, make that a crime, which all the powers divine have never decreed one. I will not plead, nor ask you leave to love; love is my right, my business, and my province; the empire of the young, the vigorous, and the bold; and I will claim my share; the air, the groves, the shades are mine to sigh in, as well as your _Philander_'s; the echoes answer me as willingly, when I complain, or name the cruel _Sylvia_; fountains receive my tears, and the kind spring's reflection agreeably flatters me to hope, and makes me vain enough to think it just and reasonable I should pursue the dictates of my soul----love on in spite of opposition, because I will not lose my privileges; you may forbid me naming it to you, in that I can obey, because I can; but not to love!

Not to adore the fair! And not to languish for you, were as impossible as for you not to be lovely, not to be the most charming of your s.e.x.

But I am so far from a pretending fool, because you have been possessed, that often that thought comes cross my soul, and checks my advancing love; and I would buy that thought off with almost all my share of future bliss! Were I a G.o.d, the first great miracle should be to form you a maid again: for oh, whatever reasons flattering love can bring to make it look like just, the world! The world, fair _Sylvia_, still will censure, and say----you were to blame; but it was that fault alone that made you mortal, we else should have adored you as a deity, and so have lost a generous race of young succeeding heroes that may be born of you! Yet had _Philander_ loved but half so well as I, he would have kept your glorious fame entire; but since alone for _Sylvia_ I love _Sylvia_, let her be false to honour, false to love, wanton and proud, ill-natured, vain, fantastic, or what is worse--let her pursue her love, be constant, and still dote upon _Philander_--yet still she will be the _Sylvia_ I adore, that _Sylvia_ born eternally to enslave

OCTAVIO.

This he sent by _Florio_ his page, at the same time that she expected the visit of his lord, and blushed with a little anger and concern at the disappointment; however she hasted to read the letter, and was pleased with the haughty resolution he made in spite of her, to love on as his right by birth; and she was glad to find from these positive resolves that she might the more safely disdain, or at least a.s.sume a tyranny which might render her virtue glorious, and yet at the same time keep him her slave on all occasions when she might have need of his service, which, in the circ.u.mstances she was in, she did not know of what great use it might be to her, she having no other design on him, bating the little vanity of her s.e.x, which is an ingredient so intermixed with the greatest virtues of women-kind, that those who endeavour to cure them of that disease rob them of a very considerable pleasure, and in most it is incurable: give _Sylvia_ then leave to share it with her s.e.x, since she was so much the more excusable, by how much a greater portion of beauty she had than any other, and had sense enough to know it too; as indeed whatever other knowledge they want, they have still enough to set a price on beauty, though they do not always rate it; for had _Sylvia_ done that, she had been the happiest of her s.e.x: but as she was she waited the coming of _Octavio_, but not so as to make her quit one sad thought for _Philanders_ love and vanity, though they both reigned in her soul; yet the first surmounted the last, and she grew to impatient ravings whenever she cast a thought upon her fear that _Philander_ grew cold; and possibly pride and vanity had as great a share in that concern of hers as love itself, for she would oft survey herself in her gla.s.s, and cry, 'G.o.ds! Can this beauty be despised? This shape! This face!

This youth! This air! And what's more obliging yet, a heart that adores the fugitive, that languishes and sighs after the dear runaway.

Is it possible he can find a beauty,' added she, 'of greater perfection----But oh, it is fancy sets the rate on beauty, and he may as well love a third time as he has a second. For in love, those that once break the rules and laws of that deity, set no bounds to their treasons and disobedience. Yes, yes,----' would she cry, 'He that could leave _Myrtilla_, the fair, the young, the n.o.ble, chaste and fond _Myrtilla_, what after that may he not do to _Sylvia_, on whom he has less ties, less obligations? Oh wretched maid----what has thy fondness done, he is satiated now with thee, as before with _Myrtilla_, and carries all those dear, those charming joys, to some new beauty, whom his looks have conquered, and whom his soft bewitching vows will ruin.' With that she raved and stamped, and cried aloud, 'h.e.l.l----fires----tortures----daggers----racks and poison----come all to my relief! Revenge me on the perjured lovely devil----But I will be brave----I will be brave and hate him----' This she spoke in a tone less fierce, and with great pride, and had not paused and walked above a hasty turn or two, but _Octavio_, as impatient as love could make him, entered the chamber, so dressed, so set out for conquest, that I wonder at nothing more than that _Sylvia_ did not find him altogether charming, and fit for her revenge, who was formed by nature for love, and had all that could render him the dotage of women: but where a heart is prepossessed, all that is beautiful in any other man serves but as an ill comparison to what it loves, and even _Philander_'s likeness, that was not indeed _Philander_, wanted the secret to charm. At _Octavio_'s entrance she was so fixed on her revenge of love, that she did not see him, who presented himself as so proper an instrument, till he first sighing spoke, 'Ah, _Sylvia_, shall I never see that beauty easy more? Shall I never see it reconciled to content, and a soft calmness fixed upon those eyes, which were formed for looks all tender and serene; or are they resolved' (continued he, sighing) 'never to appear but in storms when I approach?' 'Yes,' replied she, 'when there is a calm of love in yours that raises it.' 'Will you confine my eyes,' said he, 'that are by nature soft? May not their silent language tell you my heart's sad story?' But she replied with a sigh, 'It is not generously done, _Octavio_, thus to pursue a poor unguarded maid, left to your care, your promises of friendship. Ah, will you use _Philander_ with such treachery?' 'Sylvia,' said he,'my flame is so just and reasonable, that I dare even to him p.r.o.nounce I love you; and after that dare love you on----' 'And would you' (said she) 'to satisfy a little short lived pa.s.sion, forfeit those vows you have made of friendship to _Philander_? 'That heart that loves you, Sylvia,' (he replied) 'cannot be guilty of so base a thought; _Philander_ is my friend, and as he is so, shall know the dearest secrets of my soul. I should believe myself indeed ungrateful' (continued he) 'wherever I loved, should I not tell _Philander_; he told me frankly all his soul, his loves, his griefs, his treasons, and escapes, and in return I will pay him back with mine.' 'And do you imagine' (said she) 'that he would permit your love?' 'How should he hinder me?' (replied he.) 'I do believe' (said she) 'he'd forget all his safety and his friendship, and fight you.'

'Then I'd defend myself,' (said he) 'if he were so ungrateful.' While they thus argued, _Sylvia_ had her thoughts apart, on the little stratagems that women in love sometimes make use of; and _Octavio_ no sooner told her he would send _Philander_ word of his love, but she imagined that such a knowledge might retrieve the heart of her lover, if indeed it were on the wing, and revive the dying embers in his soul, as usually it does from such occasions; and on the other side, she thought that she might more allowably receive _Octavio_'s addresses, when they were with the permission of _Philander_, if he could love so well to permit it; and if he could not, she should have the joy to undeceive her fears of his inconstancy, though she banished for ever the agreeable _Octavio_; so that on _Octavio_'s farther urging the necessity of his giving _Philander_ that sure mark of his friendship she permitted him to write, which he immediately did on her table, where there stood a little silver escritoire which contained all things for this purpose.

OCTAVIO _to_ PHILANDER.

_My Lord_,

Since I have vowed you my eternal friendship, and that I absolutely believe myself honoured with that of yours, I think myself obliged by those powerful ties to let you know my heart, not only now as that friend from whom I ought to conceal nothing, but as a rival too, whom in honour I ought to treat as a generous one: perhaps you will be so unkind as to say I cannot be a friend and a rival at the same time, and that almighty love, that sets the world at odds, chases all things from the heart where that reigns, to establish itself the more absolutely there; but, my lord, I avow mine a love of that good nature, that can endure the equal sway of friendship, where like two perfect friends they support each other's empire there; nor can the glory of one eclipse that of the other, but both, like the notion we have of the deity, though two distinct pa.s.sions, make but one in my soul; and though friendship first entered, 'twas in vain, I called it to my aid, at the first soft invasion of _Sylvia_'s power; and you my charming friend, are the most oblig'd to pity me, who already know so well the force of her beauty. I would fain have you think, I strove at first with all my reason against the irresistible l.u.s.tre of her eyes: and at the first a.s.saults of love, I gave him not a welcome to my bosom, but like slaves unused to fetters, I grew sullen with my chains, and wore them for your sake uneasily. I thought it base to look upon the mistress of my friend with wishing eyes; but softer love soon furnished me with arguments to justify my claim, since love is not the choice but the face of the soul, who seldom regards the object lov'd as it is, but as it wishes to have it be, and then kind fancy makes it soon the same. Love, that almighty creator of something from nothing, forms a wit, a hero, or a beauty, virtue, good humour, honour, any excellence, when oftentimes there is neither in the object, but where the agreeing world has fixed all these; and since it is by all resolved, (whether they love or not) that this is she, you ought no more, _Philander_, to upbraid my flame, than to wonder at it: it is enough I tell you that it is _Sylvia_ to justify my pa.s.sion; nor is it a crime that I confess I love, since it can never rob _Philander_ of the least part of what I have vowed him: or if his mere honour will believe me guilty of a fault, let this atone for all, that if I wrong my friend in loving _Sylvia_, I right him in despairing; for oh, I am repulsed with all the rigour of the coy and fair, with all the little malice of the witty s.e.x, and all the love of _Sylvia_ to _Philander_----There, there is the stop to all my hopes and happiness, and yet by heaven I love thee, oh thou favoured rival!

After this frank confession, my _Philander_, I should be glad to hear your sentiment, since yet, in spite of love, in spite of beauty, I am resolved to die _Philander_'s constant friend,

OCTAVIO.

After he had writ this, he gave it to _Sylvia_: 'See charming creature' (said he in delivering it) 'if after this you either doubt my love, or what I dare for _Sylvia_.' 'I neither receive it' (said she) 'as a proof of the one or the other; but rather that you believe, by this frank confession, to render it as a piece of gallantry and diversion to _Philander_; for no man of sense will imagine that love true, or arrived to any height, that makes a public confession of it to his rival.' 'Ah, _Sylvia_,' answered he, 'how malicious is your wit, and how active to turn its pointed mischief on me! Had I not writ, you would have said I durst not; and when I make a declaration of it, you call it only a slight piece of gallantry: but, _Sylvia_, you have wit enough to try it a thousand ways, and power enough to make me obey; use the extremity of both, so you recompense me at last with a confession that I was at least found worthy to be numbered in the crowd of your adorers.' _Sylvia_ replied, 'He were a dull lover indeed, that would need instructions from the wit of his mistress to give her proofs of his pa.s.sion; whatever opinion you have of my sense, I have too good a one of _Octavio_'s to believe, that when he is a lover he will want aids to make it appear; till then we will let that argument alone, and consider his address to _Philander_.' She then read over the letter he had writ, which she liked very well for her purpose; for at this time our young _Dutch hero_ was made a property of in order to her revenge on _Philander_: she told him, he had said too much both for himself and her. He told her, he had declared nothing with his pen, that he would not make good with his sword.

'Hold, sir,' said she, 'and do not imagine from the freedom you have taken in owning your pa.s.sion to _Philander_, that I shall allow it here: what you declare to the world is your own crime; but when I hear it, it is no longer yours but mine; I therefore conjure you, my lord, not to charge my soul with so great a sin against _Philander_, and I confess to you, I shall be infinitely troubled to be obliged to banish you my sight for ever.' He heard her, and answered with a sigh; for she went from him to the table, and sealed her letter, and gave it him to be enclosed to _Philander_, and left him to consider on her last words, which he did not lay to heart, because he fancied she spoke this as women do that will be won with industry: he, in standing up as she went from him, saw himself in the great gla.s.s, and bid his person answer his heart, which from every view he took was reinforced with new hope, for he was too good a judge of beauty not to find it in every part of his own amiable person, nor could he imagine from _Sylvia_'s eyes, which were naturally soft and languishing, (and now the more so from her fears and jealousies) that she meant from her heart the rigours she expressed: much he allowed for his short time of courtship, much to her s.e.x's modesty, much from her quality, and very much from her love, and imagined it must be only time and a.s.siduity, opportunity and obstinate pa.s.sion, that were capable of reducing her to break her faith with _Philander_; he therefore endeavour'd by all the good dressing, the advantage of lavish gaiety, to render his person agreeable, and by all the arts of gallantry to charm her with his conversation, and when he could handsomely bring in love, he failed not to touch upon it as far as it would be permitted, and every day had the vanity to fancy he made some advances; for indeed every day more and more she found she might have use for so considerable a person, so that one may very well say, never any pa.s.sed their time better than _Sylvia_ and _Octavio_, though with different ends. All he had now to fear was from the answer _Philander_'s letter should bring, for whom he had, in spite of love, so entire a friendship, that he even doubted whether (if _Philander_ could urge reasons potent enough) he should not choose to die and quit Sylvia, rather than be false to friendship; one post pa.s.sed, and another, and so eight successive ones, before they received one word of answer to what they sent; so that _Sylvia_, who was the most impatient of her s.e.x, and the most in love, was raving and acting all the extravagance of despair, and even _Octavio_ now became less pleasing, yet he failed not to visit her every day, to send her rich presents, and to say all that a fond lover, or a faithful friend might urge for her relief: at last _Octavio_ received this following letter.

PHILANDER _to_ OCTAVIO.

You have shewed, _Octavio_, a freedom so generous, and so beyond the usual measures of a rival, that it were almost injustice in me not to permit you to love on; if _Sylvia_ can be false to me, and all her vows, she is not worth preserving; if she prefer _Octavio_ to _Philander_, then he has greater merit, and deserves her best: but if on the contrary she be just, if she be true, and constant, I cannot fear his love will injure me, so either way _Octavio_ has my leave to love the charming _Sylvia_; alas, I know her power, and do not wonder at thy fate! For it is as natural for her to conquer, as 'tis for youth to yield; oh, she has fascination in her eyes! A spell upon her tongue, her wit's a philtre, and her air and motion all snares for heedless hearts; her very faults have charms, her pride, her peevishness, and her disdain, have unresisted power. Alas, you find it every day--and every night she sweeps the tour along and shews the beauty, she enslaves the men, and rivals all the women! How oft with pride and anger I have seen it; and was the unconsidering c.o.xcomb then to rave and rail at her, to curse her charms, her fair inviting and perplexing charms, and bullied every gazer: by heaven I could not spare a smile, a look, and she has such a lavish freedom in her humour, that if you chance to love as I have done--it will surely make thee mad; if she but talked aloud, or put her little affectation on, to show the force of beauty, oh G.o.d! How lost in rage! How mad with jealousy, was my fond breaking heart! My eyes grew fierce, and clamorous my tongue! And I have scarce contained myself from hurting what I so much adored; but then the subtle charmer had such arts to flatter me to peace again--to clasp her lovely arms about my neck--to sigh a thousand dear confirming vows into my bosom, and kiss, and smile, and swear--and take away my rage,--and then--oh my _Octavio_, no human fancy can present the joy of the dear reconciling moment, where little quarrels raised the rapture higher, and she was always new. These are the wondrous pains, and wondrous pleasures that love by turns inspires, till it grows wise by time and repet.i.tion, and then the G.o.d a.s.sumes a serious gravity, enjoyment takes off the uneasy keenness of the pa.s.sion, the little jealous quarrels rise no more; quarrels, the very feathers of love's darts, that send them with more swiftness to the heart; and when they cease, your transports lessen too, then we grow reasonable, and consider; we love with prudence then, as fencers fight with foils; a sullen brush perhaps sometimes or so; but nothing that can touch the heart, and when we are arrived to love at that dull, easy rate, we never die of that disease; then we have recourse to all the little arts, the aids of flatterers, and dear dissimulation, (that help-meet to the lukewarm lover) to keep up a good character of constancy, and a right understanding.

Thus, _Octavio_, I have ran through both the degrees of love; which I have taken so often, that I am grown most learned and able in the art; my easy heart is of the const.i.tution of those, whom frequent sickness renders apt to take relapses from every little cause, or wind that blows too fiercely on them; it renders itself to the first effects of new surprising beauty, and finds such pleasure in beginning pa.s.sion, such dear delight of fancying new enjoyment, that all past loves, past vows and obligations, have power to bind no more; no pity, no remorse, no threatening danger invades my amorous course; I scour along the flow'ry plains of love, view all the charming prospect at a distance, which represents itself all gay and glorious! And long to lay me down, to stretch and bask in those dear joys that fancy makes so ravishing: nor am I one of those dull whining slaves, whom quality or my respect can awe into a silent cringer, and no more; no, love, youth, and oft success has taught me boldness and art, desire and cunning to attack, to search the feeble side of female weakness, and there to play love's engines; for women will be won, they will, _Octavio_, if love and wit find any opportunity.

Perhaps, my friend, you are wondering now, what this discourse, this odd discovery of my own inconstancy tends to? Then since I cannot better pay you back the secret you had told me of your love, than by another of my own; take this confession from thy friend----I love!----languish! And am dying,----for a new beauty. To you, _Octavio_, you that have lived twenty dull tedious years, and never understood the mystery of love, till _Sylvia_ taught you to adore, this change may seem a wonder; you that have lazily run more than half your youth's gay course of life away, without the pleasure of one n.o.bler hour of mine; who, like a miser, h.o.a.rd your sacred store, or scantily have dealt it but to one, think me a lavish prodigal in love, and gravely will reproach me with inconstancy----but use me like a friend, and hear my story.

It happened in my last day's journey on the road I overtook a man of quality, for so his equipage confessed; we joined and fell into discourse of many things indifferent, till, from a chain of one thing to another, we chanced to talk of _France_, and of the factions there, and I soon found him a _Cesarian_; for he grew hot with his concern for that prince, and fiercely owned his interest: this pleased me, and I grew familiar with him; and I pleased him so well in my devotion for _Cesario_, that being arrived at _Cologne_ he invites me home to his palace, which he begged I would make use of as my own during my stay at _Cologne_. Glad of the opportunity I obeyed, and soon informed myself by a _Spanish_ page (that waited on him) to whom I was obliged; he told me it was the Count of _Clarinau_, a _Spaniard_ born, and of quality, who for some disgust at Court retired hither; that he was a person of much gravity, a great politician, and very rich; and though well in years was lately married to a very beautiful young lady, and that very much against her consent; a lady whom he had taken out of a monastery, where she had been pensioned from a child, and of whom he was so fond and jealous, he never would permit her to see or be seen by any man: and if she took the air in her coach, or went to church, he obliged her to wear a veil. Having learned thus much of the boy, I dismissed him with a present; for he had already inspired me with curiosity, that prologue to love, and I knew not of what use he might be hereafter; a curiosity that I was resolved to satisfy, though I broke all the laws of hospitality, and even that first night I felt an impatience that gave me some wonder. In fine, three days I languished out in a disorder that was very nearly allied to that of love. I found myself magnificently lodged; attended with a formal ceremony; and indeed all things were as well as I could imagine, bating a kind opportunity to get a sight of this young beauty: now half a lover grown, I sighed and grew oppressed with thought, and had recourse to groves, to shady walks and fountains, of which the delicate gardens afforded variety, the most resembling nature that ever art produced, and of the most melancholy recesses, fancying there, in some lucky hour, I might encounter what I already so much adored in _Idea_, which still I formed just as my fancy wished; there, for the first two days I walked and sighed, and told my new-born pa.s.sion to every gentle wind that played among the boughs; for yet no lady bright appeared beneath them, no visionary nymph the groves afforded; but on the third day, all full of love and stratagem, in the cool of the evening, I pa.s.sed into a thicket near a little rivulet, that purled and murmured through the glade, and pa.s.sed into the meads; this pleased and fed my present amorous humour, and down I laid myself on the shady brink, and listened to its melancholy glidings, when from behind me I heard a sound more ravishing, a voice that sung these words:

Alas, in vain, you pow'rs above, You gave me youth, you gave me charms, And ev'ry tender sense of love; To destine me to old _Phileno_'s arms.

Ah how can youth's gay spring allow The chilling kisses of the winter's snow!

All night I languish by his side, And fancy joys I never taste; As men in dreams a feast provide,

And waking find, with grief they fast.

Either, ye G.o.ds, my youthful fires allay, Or make the old _Phileno_ young and gay.

Like a fair flower in shades obscurity, Though every sweet adorns my head, Ungather'd, unadmired I lie, And wither on my silent gloomy bed, While no kind aids to my relief appear, And no kind bosom makes me triumph there.

By this you may easily guess, as I soon did, that the song was sung by Madam the Countess of _Clarinau_, as indeed it was; at the very beginning of her song my joyful soul divined it so! I rose, and advanced by such slow degrees, as neither alarmed the fair singer, nor hindered me the pleasure of hearing any part of the song, till I approached so near as (behind the shelter of some jessamine that divided us) I, unseen, completed those wounds at my eyes, which I had received before at my ears. Yes, _Ociavio_, I saw the lovely _Clarinau_ leaning on a pillow made of some of those jessamines which favoured me, and served her for a canopy. But, oh my friend! How shall I present her to thee in that angel form she then appeared to me? All young! All ravishing as new-born light to lost benighted travellers; her face, the fairest in the world, was adorned with curls of shining jet, tied up--I know not how, all carelessly with scarlet ribbon mixed with pearls; her robe was gay and rich, such as young royal brides put on when they undress for joys; her eyes were black, the softest heaven ever made; her mouth was sweet, and formed for all delight; so red her lips, so round, so graced with dimples, that without one other charm, that was enough to kindle warm desires about a frozen heart; a sprightly air of wit completed all, increased my flame, and made me mad with love: endless it were to tell thee all her beauties: nature all over was lavish and profuse, let it suffice, her face, her shape, her mien, had more of angel in them than humanity! I saw her thus all charming! Thus she lay! A smiling melancholy dressed her eyes, which she had fixed upon the rivulet, near which I found her lying; just such I fancied famed _Lucretia_ was, when _Tarquin_ first beheld her; nor was that royal ravisher more inflamed than I, or readier for the encounter. Alone she was, which heightened my desires; oh G.o.ds! Alone lay the young lovely charmer, with wishing eyes, and all prepared for love! The shade was gloomy, and the tell-tale leaves combined so close, they must have given us warning if any had approached from either side! All favoured my design, and I advanced; but with such caution as not to inspire her with a fear, instead of that of love! A slow, uneasy pace, with folded arms, love in my eyes, and burning in my heart----at my approach she scarce contained her cries, and rose surprised and blushing, discovering to me such a proportioned height--so lovely and majestic--that I stood gazing on her, all lost in wonder, and gave her time to dart her eyes at me, and every look pierced deeper to my soul, and I had no sense but love, silent admiring love! Immovable I stood, and had no other motion but that of a heart all panting, which lent a feeble trembling to my tongue, and even when I would have spoke to her, it sent a sigh up to prevent my boldness; and oh, _Octavio_, though I have been bred in all the saucy daring of a forward lover, yet now I wanted a convenient impudence; awed with a haughty sweetness in her look, like a Fauxbrave after a vigorous onset, finding the danger fly so thick around him, sheers off, and dares not face the pressing foe, struck with too fierce a lightning from her eyes, whence the G.o.ds sent a thousand winged darts, I veiled my own, and durst not play with fire: while thus she hotly did pursue her conquest, and I stood fixed on the defensive part, I heard a rustling among the thick-grown leaves, and through their mystic windings soon perceived the good old Count of _Clarinau_ approaching, muttering and mumbling to old _Dormina_, the dragon appointed to guard this lovely treasure, and which she having left alone in the thicket, and had retired but at an awful distance, had most extremely disobliged her lord. I only had time enough in this little moment to look with eyes that asked a thousand pities, and told her in their silent language how loath they were to leave the charming object, and with a sigh----I vanished from the wondering fair one, nimble as lightning, silent as a shade, to my first post behind the jessamines; that was the utmost that I could persuade my heart to do.

You may believe, my dear _Octavio_, I did not bless the minute that brought old _Clarinau_ to that dear recess, nor him, nor my own fate; and to complete my torment, I saw him (after having gravely reproached her for being alone without her woman) yes, I saw him fall on her neck, her lovely snowy neck, and loll and kiss, and hang his tawny withered arms on her fair shoulders, and press his nauseous load upon _Calista_'s body, (for so I heard him name her) while she was gazing still upon the empty place, whence she had seen me vanish; which he perceiving, cried--'My little fool, what is it thou gazest on, turn to thy known old man, and buss him soundly----' When putting him by with a disdain, that half made amends for the injury he had done me by coming, 'Ah, my lord,' cried she, 'even now, just there I saw a lovely vision, I never beheld so excellent a thing:' 'How,' cried he, 'a vision, a thing,--What vision? What thing? Where? How? And when----'

'Why there,' said she, 'with my eyes, and just now is vanished behind yon jessamines.' With that I drew my sword--for I despaired to get off unknown; and being well enough acquainted with the jealous nature of the Spaniards, which is no more than see and stab, I prepared to stand on my defence till I could reconcile him, if possible, to reason; yet even in that moment I was more afraid of the injury he might do the innocent fair one, than of what he could do to me: but he not so much as dreaming she meant a man by her lovely vision, fell a kissing her anew, and beckoning _Dormina_ off to pimp at distance, told her, 'The grove was so sweet, the river's murmurs so delicate, and she was so curiously dressed, that all together had inspired him with a love-fit;' and then a.s.saulting her anew with a sneer, which you have seen a satyr make in pictures, he fell to act the little tricks of youth, that looked so goatish in him--instead of kindling it would have damped a flame; which she resisted with a scorn so charming gave me new hope and fire, when to oblige me more, with pride, disdain, and loathing in her eyes, she fled like _Daphne_ from the ravisher; he being bent on love pursued her with a feeble pace, like an old wood-G.o.d chasing some coy nymph, who winged with fear out-strips the flying wind, and though a G.o.d he cannot overtake her; and left me fainting with new love, new hope, new jealousy, impatience, sighs and wishes, in the abandoned grove. Nor could I go without another view of that dear place in which I saw her lie. I went--and laid me down just on the print which her fair body made, and pressed, and kissed it over a thousand times with eager transports, and even fancied fair _Calista_ there; there 'twas I found the paper with the song which I have sent you; there I ran over a thousand stratagems to gain another view; no little statesman had more plots and arts than I to gain this object I adored, the soft idea of my burning heart, now raging wild, abandoned all to love and loose desire; but hitherto my industry is vain; each day I haunt the thickest groves and springs, the flowery walks, close arbours; all the day my busy eyes and heart are searching her, but no intelligence they bring me in: in fine, _Octavio_, all that I can since learn is, that the bright _Calista_ had seen a vision in the garden, and ever since was so possessed with melancholy, that she had not since quitted her chamber; she is daily pressing the Count to permit her to go into the garden, to see if she can again encounter the lovely _phantom_, but whether, from any description she hath made of it, (or from any other cause) he imagines how it was, I know not; but he endeavours all he can to hinder her, and tells her it is not lawful to tempt heaven by invoking an apparition; so that till a second view eases the torments of my mind, there is nothing in nature to be conceived so raving mad as I; as if my despair of finding her again increased my impatient flame, instead of lessening it.

After this declaration, judge, _Octavio_, who has given the greatest proofs of his friendship, you or I; you being my rival, trust me with the secret of loving my mistress, which can no way redound to your disadvantage; but I, by telling you the secrets of my soul, put it into your power to ruin me with _Sylvia_, and to establish yourself in her heart; a thought I yet am not willing to bear, for I have an ambition in my love, that would not, while I am toiling for empire here, lose my dominion in another place: but since I can no more rule a woman's heart, than a lover's fate, both you and _Sylvia_ may deceive my opinion in that, but shall never have power to make me believe you less my friend, than I am your

PHILANDER.

POSTSCRIPT.

_The enclosed I need not oblige you to deliver; you see I give you opportunity._

_Octavio_ no sooner arrived to that part of the letter which named the Count of _Clarinau_, but he stopped, and was scarce able to proceed, for the charming _Calista_ was his sister, the only one he had, who having been bred in a nunnery, was taken then to be married to this old rich count, who had a great fortune: before he proceeded, his soul divined this was the new amour that had engaged the heart of his friend; he was afraid to be farther convinced, and yet a curiosity to know how far he had proceeded, made him read it out with all the disorder of a man jealous of his honour, and nicely careful of his fame; he considered her young, about eighteen, married to an old, ill-favoured, jealous husband, no parents but himself to right her wrongs, or revenge her levity; he knew, though she wanted no wit, she did art, for being bred without the conversation of men, she had not learnt the little cunnings of her s.e.x; he guessed by his own soul that hers was soft and apt for impression; he judged from her confession to her husband of the vision, that she had a simple innocence, that might betray a young beauty under such circ.u.mstances; to all this he considered the charms of _Philander_ unresistible, his unwearied industry in love, and concludes his sister lost. At first he upbraids _Philander_, and calls him ungrateful, but soon thought it unreasonable to accuse himself of an injustice, and excused the frailty of _Philander_, since he knew not that she whom he adored was sister to his friend; however, it failed not to possess him with inquietude that exercised all his wit, to consider how he might prevent an irreparable injury to his honour, and an intrigue that possibly might cost his sister her life, as well as fame. In the midst of all these torments he forgot not the more important business of his love: for to a lover, who has his soul perfectly fixed on the fair object of its adoration, whatever other thoughts fatigue and cloud his mind, that, like a soft gleam of new sprung light, darts in and spreads a glory all around, and like the G.o.d of day, cheers every drooping vital; yet even these dearer thoughts wanted not their torments. At first he strove to atone for the fears of _Calista_, with those of imagining _Philander_ false to _Sylvia_: 'Well,' cried he----'If thou be'st lost, _Calista_, at least thy ruin has laid a foundation for my happiness, and every triumph _Philander_ makes of thy virtue, it the more secures my empire over _Sylvia_; and since the brother cannot be happy, but by the sister's being undone, yield thou, O faithless fair one, yield to _Philander_, and make me blest in _Sylvia_! And thou' (continued he) 'oh perjured lover and inconstant friend, glut thy insatiate flame----rifle _Calista_ of every virtue heaven and nature gave her, so I may but revenge it on thy _Sylvia_!'

Pleased with this joyful hope he traverses his chamber; glowing and blushing with new kindling fire, his heart that was all gay, diffused a gladness, that expressed itself in every feature of his lovely face; his eyes, that were by nature languishing, shone now with an unusual air of briskness, smiles graced his mouth, and dimples dressed his face, insensibly his busy fingers trick and dress, and set his hair, and without designing it, his feet are bearing him to _Sylvia_, till he stopped short and wondered whither he was going, for yet it was not time to make his visit--'Whither, fond heart,' (said he) 'O whither wouldst thou hurry this slave to thy soft fires!' And now returning back he paused and fell to thought--He remembered how impatiently _Sylvia_ waited the return of the answer he writ to him, wherein he owned his pa.s.sion for that beauty. He knew she permitted him to write it, more to raise the little brisk fires of jealousy in _Philander_, and to set an edge on his blunted love, than from any favours she designed _Octavio_; and that on this answer depended all her happiness, or the confirmation of her doubts, and that she would measure _Philander_'s love by the effects she found there of it: so that never lover had so hard a game to play, as our new one. He knew he had it now in his power to ruin his rival, and to make almost his own terms with his fair conqueress, but he considered the secret was not rendered him for so base an end, nor could his love advance itself by ways so false, dull and criminal--Between each thought he paused, and now resolves she must know he sent an answer to his letter; for should she know he had, and that he should refuse her the sight of it, he believed with reason she ought to banish him for ever her presence, as the most disobedient of her slaves. He walks and pauses on--but no kind thought presents itself to save him; either way he finds himself undone, and from the most gay, and most triumphing lover on the earth, he now, with one desirous thought of right reasoning, finds he is the most miserable of all the creation! He reads the superscription of that _Philander_ writ to _Sylvia_, which was enclosed in his, and finds it was directed only--'For _Sylvia_', which would plainly demonstrate it came not so into _Holland_, but that some other cover secured it; so that never any but _Octavio_, the most nice in honour, had ever so great a contest with love and friendship: for his n.o.ble temper was not one of those that could sacrifice his friend to his little l.u.s.ts, or his more solid pa.s.sion, but truly brave, resolves now rather to die than to confess _Philander_'s secret; to evade which he sent her letter by his page, with one from himself, and commanded him to tell her, that he was going to receive some commands from the Prince of _Orange_, and that he would wait on her himself in the evening. The page obeys, and _Octavio_ sent him with a sigh, and eyes that languishingly told him he did it with regret.

The page hastening to _Sylvia_, finds her in all the disquiet of an expecting lover; and s.n.a.t.c.hing the papers from his hand, the first she saw was that from _Philander_, at which she trembled with fear and joy, for hope, love and despair, at once seized her, and hardly able to make a sign with her hand, for the boy to withdraw, she sank down into her chair, all pale, and almost fainting; but re-a.s.suming her courage, she opened it, and read this.

PHILANDER _to_ SYLVIA.

Ah, _Sylvia_! Why all these doubts and fears? why at this distance do you accuse your lover, when he is incapable to fall before you, and undeceive your little jealousies. Oh, _Sylvia_, I fear this first reproaching me, is rather the effects of your own guilt, than any that love can make you think of mine. Yes, yes, my _Sylvia_, it is the waves that roll and glide away, and not the steady sh.o.r.e. 'Tis you begin to unfasten from the vows that hold you, and float along the flattering tide of vanity. It is you, whose pride and beauty scorning to be confined, give way to the admiring crowd, that sigh for you.