Love's posie: or, A collection of seven and twenty love-letters, both in verse and prose; that lately pass'd betwixt a gentleman and a very young lady in France.

The Five and Twentieth Letter.

IF I had made a less Revolt from Reason, I had, unquestionably, made a greater from Love: And I ought to have departed (many thanks to your disdains) not the most desperate but the most in∣different of all Men. The harsh and rough manner, wherewith you left me, might reasonably Authorize mine: Yet however, do you call to mind, with what an Air I bid you, Adieu, and with what an Air you receiv'd it? But no matter for that: I am afraid, such a re∣membrance may let you know, that I went away much more de∣sperate than indifferent. Notwith∣standing this, I do all that lies in my power to become so: And if (as you say) I take upon me a certain confident way in my Let∣ters, which is not to your Palate, I am sure, in your Papers you al∣ways

retain a certain indifferent one, that is not at all to mine. If you think me somewhat too bold for an absent Lover, I dare tell you in my turn, that I think you some∣what to bold for an absent Mistris: For, if my presence has not been fatal to your Repose, are not you afraid, least this plain acknowledge∣ment will restore me all mine, see∣ing absence, according to your Philosophy, doth frequently kill the best formed affections? Accor∣ding to your Maxims, if I am to fear a Rival in your Heart, have not you also some reason to fear a Rivalless in mine? By your Cold∣ness, it would be sufficiently w••••∣ranted, to meditate Treachery 〈◊〉〈◊〉 unfaithfulness: For, upon the whole compute, do you think, that the Pleasures and Charms of Paris can∣not blot out my mind the horrours and cruelties of .... believe me, Paris is a taking City.

There a thousand deadly crafty Baits are laid t' ensnare our safety: A thousand Foes! There's Youth, there's Beauty, There's Dress, Fringe-petticoat, and shoe-tie. There's Wit, and Nice Politeness too, And that, or nothing sure must do. 'Tis true, we need not thither roam; You, Iris, have all these at home, Yet unoblig'd to Tyring-room. But yet, there's one thing; you have not, Of gentle Passion not a jot.

I fancy, the last ought to give you more alarms, than all the rest, And, if you may be uneasie upon account of Wit and Merit, you can∣not remain so well satisfi'd, as to point of Tenderness and Affection; for that every Mistris, of your fierceness and indifference, ought to fear the kindness and tractable manners of some more human Ri∣valless. I must confess to you honestly, when I see you have so little Passion, that I would choak and ••••••e mine, and I could wish

to be in a Condition to tell you with as much ease and Tranquillity as you tell me, that I am still free, and that you may engage me; but that you are fully assured of your own power, and the weakness of my Heart, and you have little rea∣son to fear the loss of it. What delight, now, shou'd I take in re∣settling you, if you were somewhat fearful of me? But, herein, you have but too much reason, to have an unshaken good opinion of your self, which is founded upon your own Merit. But, notwithstanding this, ever since my coming to Paris, I have done all that lay in my power, not to think of you so often, by making my Addresses to one of the sinest Women in France, who doth certainly carry more good na∣ture than you do, about her.

Yet, handsom though she be, Tho she has no Cruelty,

Tut unrebuking takes th' Address, I should have more Love, not more Happi∣ness.

Than herewith, I cannot make a better ending: This is enough to you. Adieu. I expect your News.