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I Gave Thanks to Fortune, for having depriv'd me of my Health, the very day that you departed. For indeed what use could I have made of it? since without you, there is no more Felicity for me in this World, and that I know no other then the happiness of your Company. Nevertheless, I enjoy it not, but am con∣strain'd to live far sever'd from my chief∣est Blessing, at a time that your Presence
is so requisite for the Consolation of my past Misfortunes. I only change one Mi∣sery for another; and I must suffer all the Pains of Love, that ne'er so much as tasted of the Sweets.
PErmit me to begin my Letter, where you concluded yours, and as a Proof that you look'd not on me with an Eye of Indifferency, to require yee to make a Truce with your Sorrows. As Just as they may be, they never can be Just while they endure so long. 'Tis the fear of re∣inforcing them with new Supplies, that has hinder'd me from letting you know, how deeply sensible I am of your Misfor∣tunes. I can Experimentally imagine the Torments, to which a Heart is expos'd that loses what it Loves. This Reflexion has produc'd in me, the same Effect which you desire, and was your business, only to discover the Honour you enjoy, to have infus'd a Passion of so odd a Nature, that she who has Harbour'd it, forgets her own Interests, and bewails her Rival. Nay, the most visible Testimonies of the force of Love, are the Sentiments which I have for Dona Elvira. My Friend can assure
yee, that she saw me really Afflicted, for not understanding her Distemper soon enough, to have made her take a Medi∣cine, which I reckon so infallible, that if you are ever sick, I will endeavour, you shall take no other. I sent yee word in my first Letter, that I could have wish'd my Death could have restor'd her to Life. I told yee then no more then what is true; and you will say so too, when I as∣sure yee, that if you could not, for the future, be happy without her, and that it depended upon me, to bring her to this Light again, I would Sacrifice, not only a Life unfortunate and supported with fee∣ble Hopes, as formerly, but a real Happi∣ness, and my Rights, almost establish'd, over your heart. See, Sir, how tenderly you are belov'd, and by whom it is, that you deserve to be so.
THo' you upbraid me to have been La∣zy, yet I rose too early to receive a Letter, such as yours. Never fear, least I should follow your Examples or that I do not think I have a Right, to trouble yee incessantly with my Sufferings, as you, without necessity, o'erwhelm me with
yours. You are much more afflicted since you knew me, then when I was a Stranger to yee. 'Tis a great Misfortune indeed, to be belov'd extreamly by a Per∣son in whom there is not any thing ap∣pears Attractive. But, believe me, Sir, 'tis a more cruel Torment, not to be able neither to surcease a Passionate Love, nor quit an irksome Life, and yet to have so many Reasons to desire both the one and the other. I have not shewn your Let∣ter to my Friend; for I am more Vain∣glorious, then she is Discreet.
SInce I receiv'd your Last, what would I give, that the Letter which I wrote the Day before Yesterday, were not come to your Hands. How afraid am I, least it may have displeas'd yee, and that you will not Forgive me for writing it. There is nothing that I would not do to obtain your Pardon. However, grant it me, I conjure yee, by her you have so tenderly ador'd. How much to blame was I for writing it! Despite and Pride but ill be∣come the Unfortunate. But what do I say? I am not so—th' obliging Ex∣pressions in your Letter, begin to change
my Fortune. I never yet push'd forward my Pretentions so far, as e'er to think of winning your Affection. I know too well my self, Love is no voluntary Act. I never aspir'd to more then only a tender Friendship, and I shall deem my self most infinitely Happy, when I have Reason to believe I have attain'd it. How sensible am I of the slightest Expressions of Kind∣ness that drop from your Lips! and what a Proof of a real Passion is that sensibility of little Things. Never did Woman Love, as I Love you: My Sentiments have a certain Delicacy unknown to any other but my self; and my Heart loves more in one Day, then others do in a••l their Lives. But notwithstanding all this, I Love without any Hope. Certain it is, I ne'er expect to be belov'd by you; and I deal thus severely by my self, that you may not appear to be Unjust.
I Am much better then I was; and there is nothing wanting to compleat my Cure, but your Presence. How for∣midable it ought to be to me, and yet how little do I fear it! Methinks I could have dispatch'd the whole Affairs of a
Kingdom, in the time you have been gone. And is it possible you should have any other business now, then by main force to wrest your self from your gras∣ping Discontents? for the Solitudes you haunt, infallibly augment 'em. Oh! how feelingly did that Despair, wherein you appear'd to be in your last Letter, pierce my Heart! and how Sorry am I, that 'tis not in my Power, to afford yee so much Comfort, as might persuade yee to survive the only Object of your Love and Admiration.
WIll you never return? and must I suffer all the Racks of Love, be∣fore I taste one Morsel of the Pleasures of it? Never was any Adventure more cruel, or more extraordinary then mine. When first these Eyes beheld yee, 'twas long enough to infuse a violent Passion in∣to my Heart; but never yet I saw yee long enough to asswage the Pains that are inseparable from it.
I Have nothing to say to yee concerning that same Jealousie, which you seem to have, that my Wit has a greater share in what I write to yee then my Heart. 'Tis for your Merit, and the Sentiments you have inspir'd into more lovely Persons then my self, to be answerable for the Sincerity of mine.
YOu give me too many Encomiums; tho' I cannot bestow too many upon your Heart, for having so well understood what was contain'd in my Letter, that so well corresponded with it. How great∣ly soever I am taken with your Wit, it is not that which pleases me; 'tis your Heart that I would move; 'tis that alone which causes my Desires, and it is mine alone that dictates what I write. I would never Pardon my self, for believing I had any Wit, unless it were to shew the Abun∣dance of my Affection. Nor have you testify'd, as yet, so much for me, as now I find in the Letter which I receiv'd this Day. How it glads my Soul, to see ye,
at length, so sensible of my Sentiments, and that I have some Hopes to expect that the excess of my Friendship will have that Power over yee, as to make yee for∣get a Person much more amiable then my self. Is it true that I inspire yee with all that briskness and vivacity of Humour, that appears in your Letter? Am I be∣come so happy at length, to be the Cause that your Inclination surmounts your Ac∣knowledgment? And shall I then behold in your Eyes, those charm••ng, and those lively Marks of a restless Passion, that en∣force Devotion? But, what will you not more conspicuously discern in mine? I'm sometimes thinking, whether 'twere not better for me to conceal 'em from ye. No,— no,— I ought no longer to be thrif∣ty of my Favours, for the Marquis loves me; and 'tis but Just, you should enjoy, without abatement, all the Sweetnesses that such a mutual Tenderness deserves. Oh! how Happy would you be, if once your Felicity could rely upon Love! But wherefore should it not depend upon it, since your Heart has been accustom'd to it? And strange it were, that I should force yee to an ill conceit of Friendship, I that have so violent a Passion for yee. No,— no,— it is impossible but you must
know how much I merit the whole of your Esteem, since my Fidelity and Con∣stancy have giv'n me those Prerogatives over your Heart, which you can never violate.
YOu complain, that my Letters are too short; and, I believ'd it proper to study Excuses for making 'em so long. You cannot throw upon me a reproach more acceptable to me, and more dange∣rous to your self. For should I once ima∣gine my self oblig'd to devote my self wholly to the Pleasure of Writing to yee, I should enforce yee soon to recant the Imputation you have laid upon me.
I Have an infinite Honour for the Dead; but I must acknowledge the time is now past, when I thought 'em worthy of Envy. I could also wish, that I had no more to do with 'em, and that your Heart would admit a new Lodger. But, alas! this is a ridiculous Pretension; for all the Kindness that you have for me, is only a bare Remembrance. And, after
all, it would but ill become me, to be so uneasie, that have so few Attractives to recommend me.
'TIs too much to Hope from my Af∣fection for yee, that any slight Sub∣missions can oblitterate your Infidelity, and the little Respect which you have shewn me. Too well I Love yee, ever to surcease that Love. I have already told yee so, and I am willing to tell ye so agen. But for you to expect I should devote my self so entirely to my Inclination for yee, as to a Passion, that my Reason, and my Judgment ought to approve, is a Mistake, with which I would not have yee Flatter your self. Your Faults, in reference to me, are not to be expiated by a bare Repentance; and, there is very little probability, that any Person values much the displeasing of his Mistress, who imposes a Rival upon her. I knew not why the Letter which I wrote yee should be so offensive; or, wherefore you should think your Honour so much injur'd by it. Are you the first that have learn'd to re∣concile Infidelity with Merit? In the common Course of Love, 'tis true, a
Man that has no other bad Qualities but that of Loving in more then one Place, is ne'er a whit the less to be Esteem'd in the Eye of the World; only, he is more unworthy the fix'd Devotion of her that is deceiv'd, especially when her Love is so Sincere as mine. I observe in your Letter sent me this Day, and have taken notice of it in others, that you are but ill inform'd of the Condition, to which my Parents have reduc'd me. When my Be∣haviour, or their Jealousies persuade 'em, that they have Reason to be offended with me, you, questionless mistake the Account I send you of it, as if I sought, by Aggravations, to enhance the Merit of my Sufferings. You are but ill acquain∣ted with me: No, no, 'tis none of my Character, to dazle Pity with long Stories of the Pains and Torments, with which the Sentiments of my Heart afflict me. Quite the contrary, I have always endea∣vour'd to conceal the greatest part of my Misfortunes from yee; nor would I say so much, at present, of my Sufferings, did I believe, that a recital of my Woes would discompose your Quiet. But I have too much Reason now, to let yee know, that in the World there is not a more mi∣serable Person, and that I am within two
Fingers breadth of being confin'd to a Cloyster all the rest of my Life. They talk of nothing here but of immuring me, and causing you to be assassinated. Be you the Judge, by this, of my Misfor∣tunes, and learn, at length, to be Sorry for me.
MY Heart is my Witness, that I am more deeply sensible of your Sor∣rows then my own; and, that your Ye∣sterday's Letter has made a more cruel Impression upon me, then all I have en∣dur'd this Twelve-month. But is it pos∣sible that you should give your self over to such a furious Metancholly? Is it for a Young Spark, so tenderly belov'd, to know the meaning of Despair? Oh, Sir, believe my Words; there's no Misfortune brings a Person sooner to Despair, then really to Love, and not be really belov'd agen. All other Miseries have their pro∣per Remedies. Would you Poyson the Sweets of that Liberty which I begin to enjoy, with killing Griefs? Are the Cros∣ses of Fortune still so potent, as to master your Resolution? Are they to be com∣par'd in Value, with a Life so precious as
yours? Nevertheless if yet you take so much delight in Plaints and Lamentations, Moan on Sir; talk, without ceasing, to me, of your Misfortuness, and never mind the augmentation of my Sorrows, by the rehearsal of your Troubles; study your own Content in your Converse. 'Tis true, I reck'n you to be the only Comfort of my Life; but with a free Consent, I yield, that you should still neglect my Satisfaction for your own.
THe mourn••ul Tone which you re∣proach me with in your Letters, and thereby render ridiculous the Deli∣cacy of my Sentiments, so deeply wounds my Heart, that I would stick a Dagger in it, did I but think my self once justly provok'd, to complain of your Injustice and Perfidiousness. I am willing my Heart should understand a little Pride: For I find your Cruelty proceeds only from my Weakness. You know it to be such as exposes me to all the Acts of do∣ting Fondness for your sake. Alas! I know it but too well my self; but what does all that Knowledge avail me? It augments my Misfortune, without aba∣ting
my Affection; and I find too too apparently, that I must be still a Prey to a most violent Passion, and the most unjust Lover in the World. Yes — as in∣grateful as you are, you are still more pre∣cious to me then my Life; assure my Ri∣val of it. For that Assurance, will en∣hance your Merit in her Esteem, and magnifie her Triumphs over me. And certainly, she will never be at so much Liberty, to make this serious Reflexion, that a Man, who fails in what he owes to Sentiments like mine, will hardly prove constant to her Charms, and that it may be her Destiny one Day, to undergoe the same hard Fate as mine: Nor can she be prepar'd for it too soon. Adieu, Sir; I never dream of your returning more to me; or that you should believe the losing me deserv'd a single Tear; and I should be a Fool, if I expected from ye the least Favour that might promote my Satisfaction.
SInce the last time we saw each other, you have been always present in my Thoughts both day and night. Methinks I see ye, and talk to ye, and I lock my self up in my Closet all day long, avoiding
all manner of Company, that I may have leisure to muse only upon you How much Reason have I to fear, that you more pleasantly consume in Company, and di∣vertisement those Hours which I wast in dozing only on Mansera's Love. I am afraid, least this Letter should not find ye within: I am afraid least you should throw it by, and only read it at your leisure, perhaps some Hours after you receiv'd it. In short, I fear a Thousand Things; where∣as, I only ought to fear my being too Pro∣lix, and shewing too much Tenderness to a Person that sent me, but this Morning, such a cold Epistle.
I Hear, for some Days past, that you are wholly taken up with your Affairs, and that our Conversation is no more a part of your Concerns. Cruel Unkindness! ought you not rather to think, that you commit a Crime in giving me Reason to dread your Passion being at an end, which has cost me so many showres of Tears? Why must I still be in doubt of being belov'd? Ought you not to have convinc'd me that I am so, in such a manner, that I might not always live in tiresome Uncertainty?
But that which I require of you, com∣pleats the Character of a tender and pas∣sionate Lover, and I can never think that you were either one or t'other, in refe∣rence to my self. How blind was I, to flatter my self, that e'er your Love would long subsist, in despite of Absence, and those Torments, with which Jealousie in∣toxicates us! Was I not sufficiently ac∣quainted with your Heart, to know, that it requir'd a smooth un-interrupted Court∣ship, once to fix it! Ah! you are but a faithless Lover, and I too much a Fool to flatter my self one Minute, that e'er you lov'd me with a true delicacy of Af∣fection. Your manner of Dealing with Dona Elvira, ought not that to have been a Warning to me. You Courted her, you pay'd her Visits every Day; but still you would have other Business while she liv'd. And, yet I could persuade my self, that you would leave off all Concerns besides, and sacrifice 'em to a Lady that you never saw, and for whom you never had a kindness. Certainly, I had lost my Senses. But wherefore do those cru∣el Senses return again? or, Are they not sufficiently Powerful to stifle my Affecti∣on? I have omitted nothing for several Days together, that might harden my
Heart against yee. I repeat without ceasing to my self, both what I have Suf∣fer'd for yee, and the Usage I have re∣ceiv'd at your Hands. I revolv'd in my Mind, that natural, tho' unfortunate In∣clination of mine, that has embitter'd all my Life; the shameful Condescenti∣on of my Weakness, to be the first dis∣closer of my Love; the Frights, the Fears, the restless Desires and Impatience that our appointed Meetings have cost us, and all the Contrivances that I have laid to deceive my Parents. And after all, is this the Recompence, and all the Re∣compence, that I am to expect? You have no Kindness for me, and you no longer conceal it from me: And 'tis ten to one, but that your Fidelity might be as Treacherous four Months agoe, but you thought it civil to observe something of Decorum toward me, and would not let me know at once my whole Misfortune. But now you seek to make me truly sensi∣ble of all together. You can refrain three Days together, without writing to me; and the Letters, which you do write, are only Copies of my own. In short, I have discover'd all your perfidie. Think not to escape me, as much absent as you are: I can find yee out, when you believe
your self safest in your most conceal'd Retirements of Equivocation and study'd Evasions. And of this, I could convince yee, would I give my self the Trouble to put yee to Confusion. But woe is me! you are not worthy of a clear Convince∣ment; the only way to deal by you, ac∣cording to your Merits, is to forget Man∣sera quite; and, instead of former Ten∣derness, to treat yee with a Scorn, so Contumelious, as might justly make yee question, whether I had ever any Kind∣ness for yee. 'Tis a Happiness which I aspire too, that I may live to hear your Name repeated without the least Com∣motion, and to attain to that Felicity, I shall not have recourse to Anger and Fu∣ry. For always the most violent Rages terminate in Reconciliation: But, they that are desirous of a perfect Cure, must, of necessity, distrust whatever has an Air of Sensibility, if once they would surcease to Love a Person, stain'd with soul Ingra∣titude. There is no way, but to forget him absolutely: For, so long as he hovers in our Remembrance, we must love him; and the Causes of the Complaints we have against him, make a far less Impression then his Merits. I refrain from remem∣bring yours, as much as in me lies. I
seek Employment altogether inconsistent with my former Blindness. But I must acknowledge, to my shame, that I have not found it out as yet, and that I still am lavish of the Poyson that destroys me.
THe Transports of the Person whom you know, are much beyond Ima∣gination: Her Fury is more then too too Violent to mine all her Vertue. For Hea∣ven's Sake, have a care of supplying her by your Discourses, with new Causes of Complaint. Is it so hard a Matter for yee to forbear talking of a Lady, for whom you have so little Respect? I could wish that my Distemper, which encreases eve∣ry Day might turn aside such terrible Mis∣fortunes, by putting a Conclusion to my Life. I am the Victim that must appease all these Disorders, and, I desire my Death may cause my Life to be forgotten. Fare∣well, Sir, you may either return agen, or break with me for good and all, which you think fit to do. For my part, I must clearly acknowledge to yee, that I am no longer sensible of inward compulsion; and 'tis enough for my Satisfaction, that I already love yee less, then I have done.
HOw difficult a thing it is to make use of Prudence, when our Love be∣comes too violent a Passion! and that it costs my Affection for yee so dear, to fol∣low what my Reason dictates to me. But fain would I, that my Reason should know, 'tis only Subservient to my Inte∣rest. It may, perhaps, one Day afford me the certain Means, to abandon my self entirely to my Friendship. We are always most sensible of Pleasures, prece∣ded by an over Imperious constraint. 'Tis requisite, that a tedious Impatience should prepare the Pleasures, we receive by the long wish'd-for sight of what we Love. They never are extreamly Delightful, but after they have caus'd a world of Sighs.
This Reflexion is more necessary for you then me, who love yee with a Flame too Extraordinary, to seek for any Suc∣cour, which common Passions have need of, to support themselves. But 'tis my Hope, that my Torments, and my Dis∣cretion together, will not prove unser∣viceable in augmenting yours. 'Tis this Opinion that infuses Courage into me,
and, I suffer all Things, in expectation you will love me with a more tender Af∣fection. Good God! what a Happiness shall I enjoy, in intermixing with the Pleasure of your Company, the recital of all the Pains that I have suffer'd for your Sake.
I Wonder how I have the Srrength to write to yee, considering the Condi∣tion to which I am reduc'd. The Plea∣sure which I had to enjoy your Company Yesterday, render'd me so impatient of our Meeting this Day, which I so certain∣ly promis'd my self, that the Accident, which disappointed my Design, has al∣most broke my Heart. How cruel and severe ought you to deem it, if it be true, that you have so much Devotion for me, as you express in your Letter. But if I love yee, behoves it me to wish the same Sincerity from you? No, no, 'tis the greatest of Misfortunes to burn with a violent Flame; nevertheless, I find, that to the hazard of my Life, I shall be al∣ways your Adorer. But what apparent grounds have I to fear, least you, at length, should be tyr'd out with a Familiarity so
disastrous, and quite abandon me to that same dismal Infelicity to Love, and fix my Love upon a faithless Person: No, no, you have not an Affection for me proof against that strict Restraint which I lie under; you'll soon surcease to Love me; and perhaps, not scruple to tell me so. But withal consider, that my Life depends on your Indifferency for me.
I Knew not you were Guilty of more then two Crimes, in reference to my self; but, in your Yesterday's Letter, I discover a Third. Is it possible a Man should have a tender Kindness for a Per∣son, and write to her, as you have writ to me? Re-call to mind the Marks of Esteem and Distinction, which I bestow'd upon yee but within these few Days. Ah! is it fair, that I must be the Person to whet up your Memory. This same Despite, by which you do your self an Injury, is still no more then a new proof of my singular Affection. Could I ever be so touch'd to the Quick, with my Suspiti∣ons of your Infidelity, but that I have a Passion for yee? or, Could I Love yee with an Adherency, that nothing can un∣hinge,
but that I have a vast Esteem for your Person? If Dona Inez were a faith∣ful Mistriss, for her to know of an Af∣fair with another, might be a Reason sufficient, to think her no Concern of yours: But, her past Conduct shews us, that she is one who stands not much upon Delicacy. The Duke of — who fell in Love with her long since, is properly the Husband of that Adventure, and you are the Galaunt; altho' you never told me of it, and with no less Obstinacy, you would fain conceal it from me, when I know it already. In short, you have no mind to Sacrifice her Love to my Con∣tent: For, there's no question to be made, but I am She, that is already Sacrific'd to Her. Good God! With what frightful Terrors, does the Thought of this disturb my Quiet? Yet, why should they di∣sturb me, if I did not Love yee? There is not any sort of Grief, of which I am not sensible for your sake: Nevertheless, my Heart is prone to Pardon yee; only it requires some Satisfaction for my free Indulgence; it fain would have you shew your self worthy of the Pardon which it grants yee, for fear of being upbraided with it, as an Act of Weakness.
WHat News is this I hear! I am told, you are returning to Grenada, and I am going out of Town to Morrow, for three Months together. Why cannot you as well spend all the Autumn at your Country Seat? I might enjoy, at least, some sort of Quiet then, in my Retire∣ment. But what Repose for me, while you are at Grenada! Your Residence in this City, is of too dangerous a Conse∣quence, for an absent Mistriss. Dare I presume those amiable Charms, to make me Hope you can preserve your Heart for me, amidst a croud of Beauties that will strive to rob me of it? Yet, if you have a true Idea of mine, that resembles it, can you forget me, and prefer before me, Women that only Love, because they have an Opportunity, and make Love's Pleasures the sole end of all their Amorous Passions? No certainly; for I believe your Delicacy such, as will not easily be reconcil'd to a common Inclina∣tion: And, I am apt to flatter my self, that I have enur'd yee to those Sentiments tha•• will, for some time, settle your Dis∣like of those of other Ladies. Do but fre∣quently
call to mind, so long as I conti∣nue absent, the last endearing Colloquies we had together, and let that Recollecti∣on inspire yee with such Desires, as may secure yee from the benumming Faculty of Absence. How Happy shall I be, if at your Return, you tell me, that you Love me still, and, that no other Ob∣ject has expell'd me from your Memo∣ry.
I Know not how it comes to pass, that you have not receiv'd my Letters any time these two Months. This Miscarri∣age disorders me strangely, and that same Jealousie that has undertaken my Ruine, makes me afraid of every thing. But my Disquiets now must all give Place to that excess of Joy repay'd me in exchange, by the Receipt of your Letter this Mor∣ning, and the care you took to send it by a Messenger, on purpose, to the other end of the World. The Surprize and Joy that siez'd me of a sudden, were so vio∣lent, that they have awaken'd all my Mother's Suspicions; and she has been grumbling and growling ever since at me, without knowing any Reason for it.
However, the Assurances which you give me of your Affection, have alter'd very much the Condition of my Heart. Before, I was deeply plung'd in a mourn∣ful Uncertainty of your Tenderness and Fidelity. But what you tell me, concern∣ing both the one and the other, is it sin∣cere? and, will kind Heaven reserve me the transcendent Pleasure, to see my self the Object of your most passionate Love? At length, do yee begin to understand the Price of my Heart? and, may I con∣fide in the Protestations you have made me? And now, what must I do, not to believe yee? All your Expressions are most tenderly obliging, and, I desire the Truth of what you would persuade me, with too much Ardour, any longer to gain-say your Vows. I do oppose, 'tis true, a small remainder of my Reason, to an Opinion so charming, but my Heart is Prepossess'd, and will no longer listen to any thing, that may convince me of an Error. Prudence enfeebles Love, and therefore, when we Love, we are to hear∣ken only to his Flatteries.
I Have been every Day, during this Journey, constrain'd to hear that Pas∣sion scorn'd and vilify'd, which I prize and cherish more tenderly then my Life. What did not my Mother peale in my Ears, that Day that we lay at Nuestra Dona de Rosaris? And one would think, the Heavens had seem'd to favour her, as having the same Design to terrifie me. For it Thunder'd and Lighten'd most dradfully; and I Rain'd Tears all Night. For I could not but be infinitely griev'd to think, that I should have a Heart that harbour'd a Passion so offensive to my Mo∣ther's Pity, and which provok'd so high∣ly her Displeasure. But, neither all those serious Reflexions, Sir, nor the Returns of recollected Understanding, can lessen in the least, the Power which you have oe'r my Heart: But quite the contrary, they rather serve to be more certain Te∣stimonies, that nothing can dissolve it.
IF the Marchioness made ye a faithfull recital of our Interview, she must have told ye without doubt, that I talk'd to her of nothing but your self; and that I car∣ry'd the Discourse so far, that I would not allow her a Minutes leisure to mention her own Concerns. She complain'd of it to me in several Letters; but the Excess of my Tenderness may well prevail for my Excuse; nor am I in such a Condition, that she to whom I still unfold my Heart should require Punctilio's of Decency from me: I am sufficiently oe'rwhelm'd with those that enforce me to obey my Pa∣rents.
YOU are the most lovely Spark that ever was. What Diligence you shew, and what a Delicacy in things of small Consequence! But have I not reason to fear that your Vivacity is no other then a Briskness of Humour, which your Con∣verse with Ladies, and your continual At∣tendance at Court infuse into ye? I de∣clare to ye, that I would have your Heart
alone concern'd in every thing you do for me; as 'tis my Heart alone that Lessons me in every thing I do for you. But I would fain banish all these Fears, and wholly abandon my self to the Pleasure of being belov'd and loving you: for cer∣tainly you deserve to be more belov'd then any Person in the World. I have so per∣fect an Idea of your Merits, that all that I do, and all that I am sensible of for ye, seems not sufficient to supply the vast Ex∣tent of it: And yet I am assur'd, that few young Ladies love as I do. 'Tis now three hours after Midnight, yet not a wink of sleep, for thinking how to find a a way to write to ye; and first 'twas ne∣cessary that my Mother should be fast in her Bed. Then up I got, and tore out the white Leaves at the Beginning of a Book; for they have taken all my Paper from me; and here with a Pleasure more then ordinary, I present ye with the Mi∣nutes which I robb'd from my Repose. Alas! I know not what the Nights are good for, but by the Liberty they give me to write, and think of you. When all the World beside is asleep, my Love and my Misfortunes keep me waking. I think of the short Moments I have spent in your Company; of the Obstacles that hinder
me from enjoying the same Felicities, and the Horror of living in that Restraint and Captivity to which I am confin'd. I am watch'd so narrowly , and with so much Severity, that all the sprightly Ingenuity of my Friendship cannot find out a way to have one moment's Discourse together, be∣fore your Departure, unless our Journey to Sevil hold good. I hope it, and wait for it with such an extraordinary Impatience, that I believe it will quite mope me. My Thoughts are so taken up with it, that it deprives me of my Sleep, and that little while I close my Eyes, I talk so loud in my Slumbers of the Pleasures I expect to enjoy in your Society, that my Mother last Night over-heard something of it, and had she demanded from me an exact Ac∣count of my raving Gibberidge, I had been a lost Woman; and still I shall look upon my self to morrow as forlorn and undone, if I do not finish my Letter. Good Night Sir, I forgot to speak to ye of the Countess of Vilassor. You will do me a Kindness, for Reasons I will tell ye, to shew her most sedulous Civilities, and which may seem to carry an Air of Court∣ship. However have a care of perform∣ing my Orders too exactly. If you have any rellish for me, 'tis easie to have a li∣king
for her; for like me she has Wit, but she is none of the handsomest. Once more good night Sir.
HOW charmingly delightfull, and how proper a Consolation of our greatest Misfortunes is the hope of enjoy∣ing the Society of the Person whom we love! I forget all the Vexations with which your Indifferency afflicted me, and I look upon the Fantastick Morosity of my Pa∣rents as nothing, compar'd with the Feli∣city of seeing you this Evening at my Window. I am preparing to obtain your Pardon; and I have such an Assurance in the Method I shall take to beg it, that you will not refuse it me. But I know not whether it will be so easie for you to pacifie my just Resentment of that Injuri∣ous Jealousie which you discover'd to me in your last. Is it possible you should have so bad an Opinion of me, to believe me fickle and inconstant? Or have you so ill a Conceit of your self, to think that any Person can be unfaithfull to ye? Oh! Sir, you are not acquainted either with your own Merit, or with the manner of my be∣ing taken with it. Let Don Gaspar, let all
the World believe me Amiable, I never will Love any other Man but your self; for only you appear to be worthy of me. But Sir, let us bury all those People that are but a Trouble to us in an Oblivion, from whence you ne'er will go about to re-call 'em, and let us only talk of our selves. Methinks I have too easily suffer'd my self to be persuaded, that you are not to blame. For, ought not I to be cautious of believing that you love me? Did I desire it with less fervency, I should not be so ready to believe it But our Wits are tyr'd with always ma∣k••ng opposition to our Hearts; and still our clearest Understandings become at length the Slaves of our Desires. Tho', as for mine, they are confin'd to please you only, and to be belov'd by you eter∣nally.
IT seems to me, as if you Repented of the Marks of your Affection, which you bestow upon me. I receive not any this Day, which some Actions of yours do not destroy the next. What was the Reason that you came not to the Gover∣ness's House, where I staid from Three
till Five a Clock? Questionless, your impatience to see me, must be very mo∣derate, when you ne'er Visit me, but when you find your self constrain'd. But ought you not to have the most eager Inclinations for a Person that Loves yee with such a tender Affection, and who looks upon your Absence, at so near a Distance, as an insupportable Affliction? And you do all you can to make it yet more Dreadful, by depriving me of the Comfort I might find, were it only in seeing your Face, before my Departure. My Eyes would have told yee a Thousand Things, that ought to be Delightful, tho' I perceive they're no way acceptable to yee. I have not seen yee any where this Day, tho', since the Morning, I have not been but in such places where I might have met yee. I was at Dona Pepa's Lodgings, where in vain I flatter'd my self to have found yee. Good God! how little care you take of any Thing that tends to make me Happy.
I Was Yesterday so sooth'd with inward Joy, and yet withal so unaccountably cast down, that I never stirr'd out of my
Chamber so much as to Dine. But, as for you, Sir, are you still among the Number of the Living? or, are Peo∣ple wont to dye upon their manifesting those Sentiments of Kindness, of which you made me Yesterday so Sensible? How Glorious a Thing it is, to have the Power of inspiring such a Passion! How happy am I to be belov'd with a recipro∣cal Fervency! Never fear the change of my Affection: You are too dear to me; and 'tis impossible that you should ever cease to be belov'd, that are so Amiable. Absence may cause yee to suffer for a while; however, it never ought to make you question my Fidelity in the least. I Love yee, Sir; nor is it in my Power to surcease my Love. For I am so far from Combating my Tenderness, that I abandon my self entirely to it. I am apt to think, it is impossible to be Hap∣py without Loving, and I know no Per∣son worthy to be belov'd, but your self. Be therefore immoveably persuaded, that nothing shall deprive you of my Heart. Depart with this Assurance, and return full fraught with an Impatience, and a Desire no less ardent to re-visit a most faithful Mistress. But, good God! how long must I remain Disconsolate,
before I shall receive any more Testimo∣nies of your Tenderness and Acknow∣ledgment! How many tedious Hours will weary my Impatience, before I reap the Comfort of such endearing Sweet∣nesses. In vain do I afflict my Brains for your Departure: but still your Absence appears dreadful to me; nor can I so much as endure the Thought of it.
ARE not the Pains that I undergoe, in this Disconsolate Condition, e∣nough to oe'rwhelm a Miserable Creature, but that you, Sir, must also augment the burthen of my Grief, by suspecting me of Change, when my Constancy has cost me all the Tranquility of my Life? You are but ill acquainted with the posture of my Affairs; and I know, that you believe me to be easily Frighten'd, and that the Mis∣chief is not so great as I say it is. But there is your Mistake: For I am a Thousand Times more Miserable, then in your Observation I appear to be; and my Concerns are in a desperate Estate. I have never sought to move your Pity, or to excite yee to pay those Sighs to the Knowledge of my Misfor∣tunes,
which my Sincerity deserves. I have rather conceal'd the greatest part of my Sorrows, and my Captivity, for fear of exposing my self, to the Disgrace of seeing your Inclination quite extinguish'd by the Destruction of our Hopes. For I had still some small Remainders of as∣surance, enough to flatter my self with a change of my Fortune, and I thought my Ingenuity and Care might acquire me, at length sufficient Liberty to enjoy your Society. But the Accident that is befal∣len me, has for ever depriv'd me of it. My Mother is not a Woman of a Hu∣mour to be reconcil'd to those Senti∣ments which I have for yee. They are not unknown to her, and she will use her utmost endeavours to bereave me of the Means to follow my natural Propensity. She will not suffer me to budge out of her sight, and the least Reluctancy in me would prove the ruine of all my Designs. In short, I am a Victim devoted to Di∣saster, and the Flames of Love; yet still the more I am Persecuted, the more I Love yee. But wherefore do you shew yourself so Sedulously? You know full well, that my Tranquility is no way to be obtain'd but by enfeebling my Affe∣ction; and yet you will be still appearing
to re-inforce it with your Presence. Is it because you would augment my Grief with fresh Supplies? How do you think I can be able to abide the Presence of a Spark, for whom 'tis known I have a Love, and yet they would have me for ever to abjure him. Woe is me! how sad is my Condition! I suffer all that possibly can be suffer'd, if I do not see yee; and yet, I cannot see yee without strange Affrights and Discomposures. Pityless Heavens! will you not take, at length, Compassion upon a Creature ready to sink under the burthen of your Indignation?
COnsider seriously what I undergoe, and what I hazard in writing to yee, and then accuse me of Levity if you can. Lately I went to walk in the Garden belonging to the Society. Heavens! In what Hopes and what Fears was I of meeting you there! and I shall feel the same emotions to Morrow, at another publick Place, where I must be.
I Must acknowledge, that while you were sedulously employ'd in studying Contrivances which way to get to me and let me hear from yee, I was no less diligently employ'd in finding out which way to forget a Lover, whose Remissness made me think you had no value for my Sufferings. But, I find yee now both faithful and sincerely Tender. Heaven, that reserves a longer Train of Misfor∣tunes for me, notwithstanding the many Reasons I have to abandon all manner of Friendship, will not permit me to cease loving you. How tedious soever the Per∣secutions are which my Affection draws, upon me, and how sensible soever I may be of my Pains, I make no more Com∣plaints. 'Tis so delightful for a Woman to believe her self belov'd, that this Opi∣nion is enough to allay the most vigorous, Torments, and it would prove my Death to be convinc'd of it. Your Letters speak nothing else but Sadness and Despair; and that will cause me to lose my Reason. You augment the Grief that springs from my Misfortunes by a thousand Reflexions upon your hard Fate, that compleat the
Accumulation of your killing Sorrows. But remember, Sir, what I have often told yee, that Fortune and a Mistress, are alike oblig'd by Constancy, and suffer their extreamest Rigours to be vanquish'd by Perseverance. Besides, 'tis such a Sa∣tisfaction to be belov'd, as I love you, that tho' you never see me, and that your Cor∣respondence be so narrowly watch'd, you ought to deem your self the most happy of Men, because you are the best belov'd of Men. Consider seriously, what an Honour it is, to inspire an Esteem so ten∣der as mine for you; and, to be the on∣ly Object of the Thoughts of a discern∣ing Lady, and whom the World has al∣ways flatter'd to be Lovely. Oh Sir, do but consider well, after what an extraor∣dinary manner I Love yee, and you will no longer believe your self Unfortunate. You will then think no more of Dying. Your whole Desire will be then to live, and vanquish, by your Dexterity and Perseverance, whatever opposes our Mar∣riage. But tho' we could not hope for a Success so favourable; yet it would still behove ye to preserve your Life, as a most precious Treasure; since upon that, de∣pends the Happiness of a Person that ought to be so dear in your Esteem. Give
over these Disconsolate Idea's; for if either of us two has reason to think of dying, 'tis my self, without all question. I am the unfortunate Creature that disturbs your Quiet, and cannot justifie her Inno∣cence, notwithstanding the Innocence of her Intentions; so dreadfull are th' Effects which they produce. Here has been no∣thing but Alarum and Jealousie for these Two days last past.
YOU made choice of an inconvenient Post; the Window where you stood is too remote; and you had no desire to see me at my own, for fear of some un∣lucky Disappointment. But as for that which I have mention'd in my Letter, and which is so near, that we can really and distinctly see each other, you will have a perfect Account of it, and receive full Instructions from Don Basil, to the end you may prepare your self for our Meet∣ing on Monday, which I as much, if not more impatiently long for then you. And tho' the Pretence you make use of, for meeting sooner then the hour prefix'd seems plausible enough, yet I am utterly a∣gainst it, for fear it should proceed from a
desire of affording me those hours only of the day that I am most at leisure to spare. But I look upon Visits as nothing; I know how well enough to dis-engage my self from those Impertinents; and therefore do you rely on my Affection. But to dis∣cover that, and prove the Delicacy of yours, Necessity will have it, that you must come to see me through a Garret-Window, at the same time that you might see and talk to the briskest and most jolly Women in Grenada. In short it behoves me to flatter my self, that you will quit all Company for my sake, and that it is a pleasure to me, to make me sensible of it. For once, renounce the Court, the Harps and Guittars, for an ill-favour'd Window, through which perhaps you will see no great Matter. But if you willingly obey me, I shall esteem my self so highly o∣blig'd, that I shall freely grant ye a plena∣nary Permission to carry me away thro' one of our Lattices. You see, Sir, by the severity of those Laws which I impose upon ye, you see how dangerous a thing it is to persuade a young Virgin that you have a Passionate Kindness for her. When I thought my self either not at all, or but very little belov'd, I was mild and fearfull, and pretended to nothing: now I am
grown Imperious, and require Exactness and Sedulity; I examine every thing with Rigour, and am no longer easie to forgive. And thus you see the Alteration which the Change of your Fidelity has produc'd. However if you love me so well as you say you do, the Performance of whatever I exact from you, ought to appear easie.
RAther should I now weep Tears of Blood. I always thought I never could be more unfortunate then I was. Nevertheless all that I have hitherto en∣dur'd is nothing in comparison of what I suffer. I am betray'd, void of all Hopes, and lost beyond Recovery. The faithless Dona Clara has shew'd her self at length in her true Colours; and I am the Vi∣ctim that she offers up to obtain the Fa∣vours of my Hood-wink'd Parents. But it behoves me to give ye a perfect Account of my Disasters. Saturday night I recei∣ved your Letter so late, that I was forc'd to read it in my Bed. I read it over and over again several times, and whether it were that Sleep surpriz'd me, or meerly out of Carelessness, I left some part of it
upon the Boulster. Immediately after I wak'd, Dona Clara came into the Room, at what time my Sister prest Mistriss Cla∣ra very earnestly to sit down upon the Bed-side; which she did for some few Mi∣nutes, and then left us. But upon my Return from Mass, I perceiv'd the Loss I had sustain'd, and order'd my Women to look for it, and to leave no part of my A∣partment unsearch'd; but they could find nothing that I wanted. However not sus∣pecting Dona Clara, nor being able to ac∣cuse my Sister, who were only in my Chamber, I thought that some of my Ser∣vants might have burnt your Letter. This gave me some Quiet for a time, and I went to hear the Sermon, where you saw me with the perfidious Clara. My Mother also never seem'd to put more Confidence in me. We were two hours together, af∣ter we return'd from the Sermon; but I left Clara in the Chamber, where she stay'd along while. In the mean time, I had a longing Desire to know what my Mother thought of my going to the Sermon, and therefore sent for Dona Clara into my Closet; whither she came, but in a great Discomposure, and told me that my Mother had not said a word to her, and refus'd to enter into any Discourse with
her. Upon which I was not a little deje∣cted, and threw my self upon the Bed, as being fully persuaded that my Mother had my Letter.
I waited for day, with as much fear as Impatience, having past away the Night as you may well imagine. At last, as soon as my Chamber was open, my Mo∣ther came to me, and after she had orde∣red all the People to withdraw, she told me that my Father and she having had some Discourse about my going to the Ser∣mon, were both persuaded that it was an Assignation, and that you and I kept a Correspondence together. Upon that, she ask'd me for my Keys, which I deli∣vered to her without any more to do; for I knew very well she would find nothing in my Cabinet. However she look'd in it, and made me believe, that she found that unhappily-lost Letter in it, which I am sure was never there. Thus I have told ye the whole Story of an unfortunate Mis∣chance. I need not tell ye how my Pa∣rents storm'd and took on; you may rea∣dily imagine it, as also my disconsolate Condition. I no longer know my self. My Grief is intermix'd with an Indigna∣tion that tempts me to violent Resolutions. My hatred to Clara is incens'd even to Fu∣ry,
and I shall make her know it before the end of the Day. She shall not go away with the fawning Belief, that she has assassinated me, yet that I know not who it was that gave the Mortal Blow. She shall understand, that I look upon her as my most Mortal Enemy; and I will justifie what I affirm by all the shrewd Turns that I can do her. She deserves not to have any Mercy shew'd her. How little I believ'd ye Sir! and, how well were you acquainted with the Physnomy of this Treacherous Baggage! But for my Credulity, doubtless I had escap'd great part of my Disasters; for there is no question now to be made, but that she has done me a Thousand more ill Offices, by incensing my Father and Mo∣ther against me. Do you not wonder at my Misfortune? I cannot understand it, nor can I conceive how it is possible, that the Perfidious should Triumph over Hearts that are Sincere. You better know then any body, the Integrity of mine. Oh Sir, how would yee have been convinc'd of it, had you been a Witness of the Confusion I was in, to see the Secret discover'd, which I always deny'd. This seems to me to be the greater Shame, tho' it be also an extream
Disgrace to Love a Person, which, by no means, they would not have me Love. Yet, if a fault so heinous may be justify'd by the Impossibility of being able to cor∣rect it, mine may be excusable. I had a Kindness for ye ever since I was born, without having the Power to surcease my Love, tho' I have try'd all ways to damp my Passion. The Pains I have endur'd for so long time together, with so much Patience, sufficiently demon∣strate that I Love yee with an Incli∣nation that nothing can subdue. Alas I am but too too sensible of the Pow∣er of it, at this very moment that I write to yee. Yes, Sir, the more they plague me, the more they engage me to be Faithful to yee. The Severity of my Parents, and my own disastrous Disap∣pointments, do they render yee the less Lovely? No — doubtless — and I promise also an eternal Fidelity, and to preserve in my Heart, such Lively and tender Sentiments, that hardly will be equall'd by those of the most zealous Lovers. Good Gods! how am I quite pierc'd through with Grief! but how ex∣tream soever that may be, I feel another yet more tediously intollerable. I wish'd to Dye, you know it well, when once I
thought yee Faithless, but now I can no longer, with Indifferency, look upon a Life that is dear to you, how Unfortu∣nate soever it may be otherwise. I will Live to Love yee as much as Man could e'er deserve to be belov'd, and because I will not yield the Victory to my Ene∣mies. I know what Measures my Pa∣rents will take; but I am resolv'd to suffer all Couragiously; and, 'tis the Character of my Tenderness, that it is able to justifie me. My Sentiments are too Noble and too Chast, for me to be afraid of acknow∣ledging 'em.
THat part of your Letter which was intercepted, speaks nothing of the Person whom you know; so that she has weather'd the Storm by a kind of Mira∣cle. Say nothing more of it in your Letters; and write 'em after a manner so Tender and Respectful, that if they should be Surpriz'd, it may be only known, that you have a Kindness for me, but that my Mother was mistaken when she thought that I Lov'd you. Adieu Sir, and rely upon me as long as yee live: And seeing what they have
discover'd of our Correspondence does not oblige me any longer to conceal my Sentiments, I will Love with so much Fidelity, and so much Delicacy, that all Lovers shall Envy what my Inclination and your Merit have acquir'd yee. I know not whither this, and yesterday's Letter will come safe to your Hands: there is little probability of it. How∣ever, I know not how to write less endea∣ringly: For I had rather discover, then conceal the Motions of my Heart from him that gave them Life and Being.
NEver complain of me; my Heart performs the Duty that belongs to it; and I am still but too too near the same Sentiments which formerly I had. Spare me a little Patience, that I may be able sedately to take such certain Measures, as may procure us some Liberty. I have learnt, by my own Experience, that 'tis convenient sometimes to lose a present Happiness to secure a future Felicity. Permit me the Steerage of our little Bark, and I hope to bring it safe into Harbour. Do you mind only what depends upon your Care, that is to say, to prove by all ima∣ginable
good Management, and an extra∣ordinary Discretion, tha•• you have a real Kindness for me. I must acknowledge, that I could never reconcile my self to any Tenderness not equal to that which I am capable of; and that I always ab∣horr'd a Mediocrity in every Thing. After I have shewn yee that I will not endure in you any of those petty Defects, which Self-love hides from our Selves, I expect that you should have the same Care of me. I know it will cost Me much more Trouble then You; but I am more certain of adhering to your Counsel, then I am assur'd that you will follow mine.
I Cannot confide in your Heart: I do not think it harbours any Inclinations for me; and, I employ good part of my time, to tell my self, that I am no more amiable in your Eyes then I was when I found by Experience, that all the Esteem and Friendship in the World would not suffice to gain your Love. Your Perseverance appears to me an Ef∣fect of Vanity. My Constancy might affect your Self-love, and it may be, the Design of your Kindness is, to engage
me to your self, and still to see me fix'd in the Sentiments which you infus'd into me formerly, and then to leave me Wed∣ded only to Eternal Repentance.
YOu were not more taken up with the Thoughts of me, then I with pon∣dering upon you: I love yee with a Ten∣derness that Affrights me. I cannot ap∣prehend what will become of me, during your Absence. I understand, with ex∣traordinary Gladness, that your Health stands firm. Preserve it with a Care becoming the Interest which I pretend to in it. With the help of that, we'll over∣come our most formidable Enemies, and the Pains and Griefs, that now Triumph almost over our Patience, shall only serve one Day, to render the Pleasures we shall then enjoy more Lively and more Valu∣able. Hope is a real Good; and he that possesses it, has no Reason, altogether, to Complain. Let us abandon our Souls to all the Sweetnesses of it: Let us Dream of it from this very Day, till you return again; for, by that means, I would fain annihilate the time that I am to linger on without your Company.
Can she be said to live, that lives absen∣ted from the Person that she Loves?
AT length, I am in a Place whither you ought to have come, and which I never thought to have seen be∣fore yee. But Fortune has so order'd it, that you are far remote, and I am here. You conjecture rightly, Sir, that it is not without thinking upon yee, and that my Affection follow'd me hither. Your Ab∣sence has not at all diminish'd it, rather the Solitude and Beauties of the Country augment it. Methinks, that in this lovely Residence, every thing talks of Love, and that a Noble Passion becomes it. Mine makes me seek out lonely Walks, and gloomy Retirements. My chief Delight is frequently to muse by the side of a Fountain, where the Chrystal Water makes a pleasing Murmur. There it is, that I recall most Affectionately to mind the happy Minutes we have past to∣gether: I remember with delight, your very Words; your very Reproaches themselves are dear to me. I look upon 'em as the Effects of a choice Esteem, and I hear 'em with the same Complai∣sance
that I have for yee. Methinks my Fortune is chang'd, and I begin to be more Happy. Can I doubt it, seeing I shall enjoy your Company, and that it will be permitted me at my Return, to require from you an Account of the time that you have spent far distant from me, and give the same Account my self, how I have pass'd those Hours that I have liv'd an Exile from your Company; if we may be said to pass our time; since, to be parted from the Thing we Love, is not to Live. And truly, methinks we preserve our Sensibility, only to feel the Pains of Absence. Remember that Pleasures are not lawful for those that are absent from what they Love. You have more need of this Lesson then I; as well for the difference between our manner of loving, as for the difference between the Places where we reside. However, I give yee leave to Admire the Princess of— Believe her also the most lovely Person in the World; I agree to it; but Love me only, and think me more Faithful. I am not jealous of the Advantages that she has over me; or, if I wish'd the like, it should be only that I might be still more worthy of your self. For, in regard that you both understand the value of a
faithful and tender Heart, there is nothing more necessary for me, that I may have wherewithal to awake your Esteem.
OH! what a Desire have I to recant the loud Encomiums I have given to violent Passions! How painful do I find 'em at this present! Nothing can equal my restless Vexation at the long silence of your Friend. How cruel is he to expose me to such a tedious Grief. I am afraid, least you should be fallen Sick, and that being unwilling that the unwel∣come News should reach my Ears, you rather choose to forbear writing altoge∣ther. I am likewise afraid least my Let∣ters should not be come to your Hands, by which unlucky Accident I may be ex∣pos'd to new Misfortunes. Must I be still in Fears, after all those Terrors I have undergone? And, at a time when I thought my self exempt from danger, must I be the sport of more impending Tempests? How strangely for your sake am I disturb'd! Under a thousand Shapes you every Night affright me, till I am all congeal'd with Fear. I think upon yee all Day long; but all my Think∣ing
brings me not a syllable of Tydings from yee. Nor can I imagine any secure and speedy means, to obtain what I so ardently desire. We are at the two op∣posite Ends of the World; and I am apt to believe, that my Confident and your Friend, are at the other. For I hear not a Tittle from either; and yet I have wrote to 'em how terribly it perplexes me. What would I give to know, what you are now a doing?
IF there be any Charms in Mystery, no doubt, they were intended for a Person that Loves with as much Delicacy as I do. And, who of all the Pleasures of Tenderness, knows only those which the sight of the Person belov'd infuses into her. You have no Reason to questi∣on, but that your Company is extreamly dear to me. But, Sir, if I delight in your Presence, I cannot see yee, without making doleful Reflexions, nor without thinking upon those insurmountable Ob∣structions that separate us for ever. At that time it is, when every thing that contributed to my Content, serves only to renew my Pain, and that the Charms
of a young Gentleman, whom I Esteem, cause me the more Sensibly to feel the Smart of being separated from him. How dearly does Reason make me pay for those few Favours that support my Constancy. I never see yee, but my Wounds become more Sensitive and more Grievous. Your Presence indeed sus∣pends my Disquiet, and while I see yee, I am too much taken with the Pleasure of your Company to think of any thing else. But when you dis-appear from my Sight, a Thousand mournful Reflexions assail me, and by the Tortures they inflict upon me, glut the Revenge of those that oppose our Nuptials. How lovely were you Yesterday! or, to speak more truly, how lovely are you always! Never did Wo∣man-kind e'er Love so tenderly, as I Love you. You deceive your self when you believe the pleasing Opinion of be∣ing belov'd by you, has added any thing to my Affection; for I have always lov'd yee with the same Violence of Inclina∣tion. And, the only Difference that your Love has created in me is this, that I no longer withstand the Sentiments that I have for yee. I find 'em so Just, that nothing can unloose my Heart from an Object that I think worthy of it. But
tho' I judge so favourably of my Heart, I make not the same judgment of my Person. The Portraiture of Dona Elvira, appear'd so lovely to me Yesterday, that I dare not pretend that any Person, ac∣custom'd to so many Charms, should have any Curiosity for me. I must acknow∣ledge, that you have sustain'd an infinite Loss, and that you cannot lament too much a Woman so worthy of your Tenderest Endearments. I am so sensi∣ble of her unhappy Fate, and I Love yee with such an extraordinary Niceness, that I should be ready to surrender my own Life, if my Death could restore her to the World again. Preserve a tender Re∣membrance of her; I shall never be a∣gainst it. And, If I were at Liberty to act according to my own Sentiments, you should see me pay so much Devotion to what remains of her behind, and be so indulgently careful of it, as should suf∣ficiently demonstrate the Generosity and Goodness of my Heart. It is divided be∣tween Hope and Fear; nor can I be∣lieve but that our Fortune will change: For my part, I will not despair of it.
THere is not one single Thought I think that I can any longer con∣ceal from yee; and, I must confess, I begin to believe that you Love me. Per∣haps I may delude my self; but if it be so, you must be a notable Deceiver. You write and tell it me in such a manner, as to persuade the most Incredulous: And, it is to me, the most delightful of all Pleasures, to believe my self assur'd, past any farther doubt, that you are really o'ercome by the Esteem that I have for yee. 'Tis such a one as merits to infuse another equal to it; it is even and con∣stant. Be then secure, that if my Friend∣ship be a Happiness that you prize, 'tis a Blessing that you can never loose. And, if it were true, that 'twere as Essential to your Happiness, as it is certain that mine depends upon my being belov'd by you, assuredly, you will be the most happy Person in the World. But, why should I not Flatter my self, that my Heart is necessary to your Felicity? Is there not a very great Probability, that a Man, accustom'd to be tenderly be∣lov'd, should understand the full value
of a faithful Heart? My Friendship might equally suffice both the Tenderness and the Vanity of your Soul. You are are All in All to me: For your Sake I abandon the World, and the Delights of it; and still, methinks, I never do enough, to prove my Esteem to be such as really it is. Woe is me? how little a Woman is satisfy'd with her self when she really Loves, and when her Senti∣ments and Idea's are above her Actions! There is not a Word I speak to yee, that contents me. My Letters, which you have sufficiently applauded, to convince me that they deserve to be approv'd, to me seem altogether unworthy of your Approbation. I never express effectually enough to my own Liking, how much my Tenderness for you, is superior to all the Sentiments of other Women; nei∣ther do I say any thing that fully satisfies my Curiosity. But, alas! will Fortune never cease to thwart us? I dare not hope it. That fickle Deity must cease to be, before she can forbear to persecute us both alike. However, let us not des∣pond: She cannot always prove so rigo∣rously False: It is impossible, but that she must become more Favourable to us one Day. I know not what Effects the
Devotions of my Confident, for so many Days together, will produce: But we must let 'em all be over first, before we can resolve that Question. I thought it cunningly done, not to give her Money the Evening before a Confession, which might entice her against us, the more easily, when she had the Money before∣hand, in her Pocket: I keep it to per∣vert the Fidelity which she has promis'd her Director.
CErtainly, it is not prudence in me, to discover so much Tenderness to yee. But I could not conceal it from yee; however, make me some Acknow∣ledgment for it. I shall not prescribe yee what to do, but leave it to your self. 'Tis when you have this Liberty that you supply me with Arms to Combat the vio∣lence of my Inclination for yee. If I would cure my self, I need no more then allow yee your Freedom, and you, I'm certain of it, will furnish me with Re∣medies.
I Leave nothing omitted to alter the present Disposition of my Heart, in reference to your self. I have read your this Day's Letter several times, at a time that mollify'd my Humour, and put me into a favourable Sedateness of Mind: I read it under a Power of Honey-suckles. I was desirous to make use of it against my own Sentiments, and to give it Strength to Triumph over my Despite and my Suspitions. But it could not get the Victory, 'twas more then it was able to perform. This Letter is stuff'd with a Thousand Follies that have an Aire of Tenderness. Nevertheless, I I cannot give 'em Credit, to the Preju∣dice of my daily Experence, that you Love me not so much as you believe your self belov'd. I cannot comply with Sen∣timents of this Nature, and I must ac∣knowledge, that I shall never be recon∣cil'd to 'em. The Custom of the World has taught me the value of a faithful Heart, and has infus'd a Haughtiness into me, which persuades me that I am wor∣thy the Affection of an honest Man. I know not whither I am deceiv'd or no;
but in every Respect, I find there are Peo∣ple that partake of my Error. For your part, it seems as if you only came into the World to mortifie my Self-love. It has been my shame to Love you first of all, to tell ye so, and 'tis no less my Dis∣grace, that I am not so well belov'd as I ought to be. You cannot imagine how much I am humbl'd by what my Ten∣derness has caus'd me to do for your sake. My perseverance, within this little while, seems inexcusable; I treat my self with a Severity that ruins me; my Company is become almost as formidable as my Mo∣thers; I am altogether afraid of Solitude, and I go as seldom as I can to the Island of Love. As for this place, I have no Reason to fear my having Freedom enough here to muse: I watch my self so nar∣rowly, and am so taken up with the Care of pleasing others, that I have hardly time to sleep. This befell me by a Luc∣key Chance, that re-call'd my Mother to Grenada, at the same time that my Father, being indispos'd, was forc'd to keep his Chamber; so that I had the Liberty to walk alone and read your Letter. I re∣ceiv'd it here; and, indeed, your Con∣fidents are not a little Guilty of your want of Vivacity. For, they keep your
Letters sometimes two Days together, af∣ter the Arrival of the Post. I forgot to give yee Notice of it; and it behoves me to wish you would forget to Reform; and the rather, that I may be abandon'd to my Despite. For it is a kind of Hap∣piness to have a just and real Cause to Complain of a Man, with whom a Wo∣man is dissatisfy'd; and, on the other side, 'tis an insupportable Torment, to want Resolution to abandon an Un∣grateful Person. I have, for some time suffer'd Miseries, so much the more grie∣vous, by how much the more I endea∣vour'd to conceal 'em, out of a meer mo∣tive of Caution, and Respect for you. I have not made yee acquainted with 'em hitherto, restrain'd by an Effect of Self-love, but I do not hide 'em from Dona Pepa. I have appear'd to her, somewhat more cool then usual in your Concern, tho' I never told her the Reason. For these Fifteen Days past, that I forbore to write to yee, I began above Ten Let∣ters without any Aggravations. The Desire of concealing my Sentiments, and the Difficulty of doing it, render'd the Let∣ter so difficult, that in all this time I could finish no more then this. And the Stile of this too, appears to me to be so odd and
extravagant, that I expect it should be the Occasion of another Quarrel between us.
I Know that my Friend Loves yee; that she has also a Tenderness for me, and a quick Understanding. I have been to Visit her, and contrary to the Resolu∣tion I had taken to conceal my Senti∣ments from her, I have enfolded 'em to her, and conjur'd her to Compassionate my Sufferings. I stay'd all the After∣noon with her, and I expected to have been severely chid, but she has infus'd a Courage into me, to support all my Mis∣fortunes, by telling me you Love me. I can never be miserable so long as I am be∣lov'd by you, and convinc'd of the Truth of it. That which I endure, when I think I have Reason to doubt of your Heart, gives me a sufficient Knowledge of it: But I am now a little more at Ease. If you enjoy not all my former Tender∣ness, at least I am willing to restore it yee again. I combat the Remainder of my Despite with the Remembrance of the many Oaths you have sworn, the many Vows and Protestations you have made me. And I shall be as much oblig'd to it
as you, if it compleats the atoning of of my Anger. For, in truth, I ne'er was born to maunder at yee: For I op∣pose my Stars when I do it. But have a care, that I may not think my self ob∣lig'd to that Extremity. If you Love me so sincerely, as my Friend would per∣suade me, make it appear, that I may also be convinc'd of it. Above all things, remember that I am to see yee again within a Month at farthest, that you have given me your Word, and that to fail of it, in reference to me, would be a Crime unpardonable. While my Mind was di∣sturb'd, I was Fifteen Days enditing one Letter; for I had nothing to say to yee. Since I saw my Friend, I have so great a Number of Things to write to yee, that a large Folio will hardly contain 'em. Good Night, Sir; we must be play∣ing the Fool, when we are in Love.
HOw scurvily do I thank my self for changing so quickly from Anger to Forgiveness. You have done nothing to appease me; you have not so much as receiv'd my Letters; and yet I Love yee more Tenderly then I have done any
time this Six Months. You have a Fa∣ction in my Heart that always Triumphs, and which wins the Victory, without ever striking a stroke. However, I am not troubl'd that my extream Feebleness gives yee this Advantage, provided you make not an ill Use of it. Lord! I am so Melancholly to Day, that I can set my self to nothing.
IF you had a Thousand Things to write to me since Thursday, what a world would I have said to yee more, could I but have had the Pleasure of conversing freely with yee at the Marchioness's, as well as seeing yee! What was it, that Love did not make me sensible of, during those few Minutes that we were together at Moke∣lin. Oh! the Pleasures that I tasted are too great to be exprest. They are only to be reach'd by the Imagination that far surpasses all the most beautiful Represen∣tations of Eloquence. Let us only talk of those which we were blest withal on Thursday. What a Chearfulness enliven'd my Heart, what a Sparkling in my Eyes! How active were my looks and glances to furnish the Ladies, that made me their
discourse, with critical Observations! But how far was I from thinking on such trivial Things! 'Twas much I did not al∣together forget the Company, and that I did not break out into a too open and ex∣travagant Display of my Affection for yee; which made me strive, as much as in me lay, to keep within the Bounds of Prudence. But I must confess, that all my Endeavours would have but very little avail'd had not your Reserv'dness, and continual minding other Things, pre∣serv'd me from the Danger. Never speak any more against my Briskness, since it agrees with a violent Kindness. Among a Thousand Follies that I utter'd, 'twas perceiv'd, that I had a world of Conceits that I never utter'd. But as for your part, you mind nothing but your present Pa∣stime, and never think of me at all. You slipp'd from me more then once, while I was talking to yee, when you might well be assur'd, that I spake nothing but what contain'd some secret Application to your self. Ah! let me tell yee, I am not satisfy'd with your Behaviour. You are neither sufficiently Nice, nor sufficiently Modest. Were it to be sus∣pected that you are in Love with me, what is the meaning of the Song you sung?
I conjure yee to be more mindful of what concerns our Love, if you have any va∣lue for it. Manage the Secret with all the care imaginable. Our Correspon∣dence will continue so long as it is kept conceal'd. But so soon as it shall be nois'd abroad in the World, you will lose me, and lose me past Recovery. But woe is me! why do I make these Complaints? Your Passion for me will be always unknown; if only your Sedulities and eager Pursuits of my Affection can discover it; for they are very Moderate. You never minded what I said, that I intended to be at Do∣na Juana's on Friday; where I was, and waited, God knows, in vain for you. Once more I am not satisfy'd with your Behaviour. I return'd from the Prome∣nade; whither I went with that Emotion that put our Spirits in a kind of tingling Rapture, when we think to meet the Per∣son that we Love; but you ne'er appear'd. Oh! how little do you know me, if you thought me too much engag'd to observe your too much dis-respective Conduct. If I never requir'd any thing at your Hands, the Reason is, because you never were my Lover, tho' I were your Mi∣striss. But now, that you would fain persuade me that you Love me, and that
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I may believe it without Vanity, I expect from yee all that a young Virgin is privi∣ledg'd to exact from a Person by whom she is so dearly belov'd. I would have yee most earnestly diligent to find me out and see me, and to suffer the prudence of your Conduct, and the management of my Parents Jealousie, to be indebted only to my Will. I cannot write any longer, without usurping too much upon my Sleep; and I am willing to reserve my self against to morrow, in Hopes to see you.
I Always thought it in our Power to sur∣cease loving a Friend, when once sus∣pected of being guilty of Change. But had it not been for the President with which you furnish me, I could ne'er have thought it possible we could forsake a Per∣son that suffers only for the love of us. The more grievous our Misfortunes are, the more we are ingag'd in acknowledg∣ment to those that endure 'em: but 'tis the most cruel effect of my Misfortune to lose your Heart by the same ways that ought to secure it to me. Good Gods! is it pos∣sible that I should suffer so many Torments
for a Lover so unjust. How sad and dis∣consolate is my Fate! I have lost all to preserve your Heart, but I must lose it, because it becomes ingratefull. How se∣verely have I been dealt with by my Pa∣rents! I spar'd the full Relation of it, for fear of afflicting that Tenderness which I thought you had for me. But since I find I am not in your Thoughts, (for I no longer doubt it now) I will set forth, if I am able, the Horrour which a Wo∣man of Gayety imagines to her self, from an Assembly of her nearest Relations, met on purpose, as she is assur'd, to cloyster her up in Confinement. I saw that Bro∣ther whom I so much despis'd, in the same Trouble wherein I was, and tasting at lei∣sure the Pleasure of Revenge. My Fa∣ther pushes on his Transports to the ut∣most Extremity, and my Mother forsakes me; they have tak'n from me my Women, for whom I had the greatest Kindness, and all manner of Liberty. Are these to be accounted slight Misfortunes? Inhu∣mane Cruelty! and when a Friend suffers so many Miseries without murmuring, or loving e'er a whit the less the Person upon whom she has reason to look as the only cause of her Unhappiness, do's she de∣serve to be forgot, or that the Person
whom she loves, should so studiously seek out which way to stifle the slender re∣mainder of Acknowledgment which he had for her? You will prove but too suc∣cessfull in your Attempt. You have alrea∣dy gone a great way in laying your De∣sign. They that continually struggle with an unfortunate Passion, may easily o∣vercome it. But go on, and perfect your Work; and forget me so absolutely, that there may remain no Idea of me in your Thoughts. How amiable soever they may be that please ye, I am persuaded you can∣not but without trouble of Spirit call to mind in their Company those few Mo∣ments trifl'd away in the Alhambra, and at Zacarin, which in the midst of a Thou∣sand Fears had those Charms that are not discern'd in a Conversation free and undi∣sturb'd. The dolefull Meetings at the Fortress, and in the Palace; those Meet∣ings, I say, which notwithstanding the Melancholly that attended 'em, had yet their extraordinary Allays of pleasing Content, cannot return to your Memory without upbraiding your Inconstancy. However, never think, that it is because I would deliver ye from the Repentance that accompanies an Error which is ap∣parent to me, that I would have ye for∣get
me; 'tis that I my self may avoid the most grievous of Adversities, which is to be the Subject of scornfull Discourse, and a Sacrifice to please a new Mistress. If my Prayers are heard, you will forget my very Name, and you will abandon me for ever to all the Severity of my Fate. Suf∣fer me to spend the Remainder of my Life in a profound Solitude, where I may have only the Consolation to consider that you know full well, that 'tis for your sake that I renounce the rest of the World; that you are the only Person my Soul pas∣sionately affects; and that all the World is lost to me when you are lost. For in the mind you are to blot me out of your Re∣membrance, you will never so much as enquire after me. You will be afraid to be inform'd of my Actions, and my very Name will be troublesome to your Ears. You write me word, that if I lov'd ye still, I would find a way to meet ye, not∣withstanding my Confinement. But if you had a real Kindness for me, would not your ingenious Affection have taught ye some Contrivance to have appear'd where I might have seen ye? Oh! I am constrain'd to tell ye more then I would say. How difficult a thing is it for a Wo∣man to disguise her Heart from him she
loves! and how passionately do I love you, notwithstanding your Ingratitude.
AT length I have heard from ye; but Good God! what sorrowful Ty∣dings do I hear! You are very ill; and I am so very far remote from yee, that there may a thousand fatal Accidents be∣fal ye, and I never the wiser, nor you be able to observe the violence of my Pain. It surpasses all Expression, Sir; this last Adventure triumphs over all my Patience; I am not Proof against so sensible a Mis∣fortune. All the Calamities I have under∣gone are inconsiderable to this, that is to say, to know that the Person whom I love so tenderly is in imminent Danger. Yes, you are worse then Dona Pepa writes me word. She was willing to spare me: But she has said enough to put me into the most cruel Frights that ever terrify'd a Female Breast. Fits once in Four and twenty hours are Mischiefs difficult to be with∣stood. Alas! how much Reason have I to be afraid! But, Sir, consider in the midst of your Affliction, how deeply I am concern'd; and let your Assurance that I partake of your Grievance, and
that I love yee, serve to render your Life more precious, and make ye more careful to preserve it.
I Am over-joy'd that you believe me worth the Visiting, and that the more you see me, the more I inspire yee with that Desire; and I dare say, it would be still more fervent, could we but have the Happiness more frequently to see each other. You are not acquainted, either with my Disposition, or my Conditions. 'Tis true, that I owe yee whatever either the one and the other has of Merit. I am sen∣sible of it every Day, both by my own Judg∣ment, and by the Esteem of my Friends. I hope so well to imitate whatever is Ex∣traordinary in your Letters, and in your Conversation, that I shall one Day ap∣prove my self worthy to please yee, and perhaps I may become an Honour to your peculiar Love.
TO shew yee, that my Courage is not a meer Rhodomontade, if you please I will see ye to morrow. But you must
contrive a way to slip into honest Pepa's, so as to deceive the Vigilancy of my Jea∣lous Argus's. You must also manage your self with infinite Prudence for a good while, and omit nothing to disabuse 'em, or, to speak more properly, to delude 'em as much as possibly you can. It behoves us to obtain our Happiness at any Price. What a Felicity will it be to see our selves at Liberty, after so many Frights and Fears! If I may believe your Looks Ye∣sterday, you are no less impatient to see what will become of us, link'd, as we are, in an eternal Bond of Amity. I was infinitely satisfy'd with your Behavi∣our, and your Discretion, in getting a∣way, so speedily, from your Friend. They must have cost yee very dear; for I am sensible, I should have had a world of trouble to quit the former. I make no question but the sight of Don Gaspar rais'd a kind of Commotion in your Breast. My Trouble was extream; and I was afraid of what might have befallen me, by Reason of such an unlucky Accident. But that same Sentiment of mine, soon gave way to another more noble. I look'd upon him as your Rival and your Enemy: And under both these Characters, he ap∣pear'd to be the most odious of all Mankind.
I know not which is most predominant in me, the Extremity of my Hatred of Him, or of my Tenderness for You. But my Mother has sent for me, and without question 'tis to resume the Discourse, which was interrupted this Morning. I am go∣ing to her, with a Design to do Wonders.
I am return'd from a deal of Chat, like a World of other Stories of which I have inform'd yee. 'Tis known that I have seen ye, and in regard 'tis also known that Don Gaspar was there, 'tis he without doubt that blabb'd it. I defended my self resolutely, and without any thing of Bit∣terness. I gave 'em such good Reasons, that they were almost asham'd that they had carry'd their Suspicions and their Transports so high. They would have laid an Injunction upon me never to stir out. I besought 'em not to use me so se∣verely. I told 'em it was now high time for me to appear in the World, observing a regular and even Conduct; that they should always find mine to be such; and that it was not to be imagin'd, that because I had a desire to marry according to my own Inclination, I should be a Prisoner all
the days of my Life: That it was a suf∣ficient Expiation of that weakness in me, that I restrain'd my self the same Liber∣ty, and the same Pleasures that other Virgins of my Age were not afraid or scrupulous to take: That I thought it a great Point of Self-denial, that I never went to Comedies, nor to the Spring-Gardens of Albarkin, and so rarely to the Palace and the Governante's, that I might hardly be said to go at all. Thus I argu'd without any Heat; for I had fix'd my Resolution before. And I am resolv'd, to carry my self so dextrously, that they may have nothing to lay fresh to my Charge, and so as to prepossess the World to my Advantages. As to what remains, I Love yee, Sir, and shall love yee eter∣nally with that Fidelity, that nothing shall separate me from yee. These new Persecutions which they cause me to suf∣fer, seem to add new Strength to my E∣steem. Great Passions are attended with a nobleness and magnanimity, that makes 'em look upon all Difficulties and Obstacles, as Opportunities to acquire Honour, and redouble the Esteem of those that are belov'd. Thus Sir, I have gi∣ven yee an Account, with what Senti∣ments I waited upon my Father, very
little concern'd with what my Relations either thought or said. They have worn out my Affection for them, and I am sensible of no Love but for your self.
NOtwithstanding your Injustice and the Wrongs you have done me, I cannot refuse my self the Consolation of telling you what I think. Tenderness and Despite predominate by turns in my Heart, and vex it with such violent Agi∣tations, that I can no longer withstand 'em. 'Tis as much as my Life is worth, if they last Four and twenty Hours. I am overwhelm'd, nor is it possible my Body should any longer resist the Con∣vulsions of my Mind. I wish to God this Night may conduct me to the Shades of Death; or, at least, that I may be able to endure my Torments, without complaining and without discovering them to you. 'Tis the Accomplishment of my Misfortunes, to know the little Power I have over my Heart. But con∣sider, ungrateful Man, that 'tis of you I speak, to the end I may never speak of yee more as long as I live; that this is to be the last Letter you will receive from me, and that I am going to bury in
eternal Silence my Tenderness and my Grief.
THe Hour of the Day sufficiently de∣monstrates, that they who are in Love, never sleep in quietness. I could no longer rest in my Bed; I left it, to stand and muse at my Window, and so many beautiful Objects, as I there beheld, augmented my Melancholy and my Ten∣derness: And I could not refrain from writing to yee, at a time, when of all things that breathe, the Birds and Lovers are the only Creatures that never taste the Sweets of Sleep; both the one and the other are awaken'd by Love. But with what a vast Difference do we partake the Pains of it! All that can torment a Heart, are felt by mine. I cannot re∣frain from Loving yee, unless I cease to Live; yet I consume my Days without your Company. What a Torture is this! Nothing could equal the Disturbances which your Sickness has caus'd within me: nothing could depaint it forth, no more then the excess of my Joy to hear of your Recovery. But there is a necessity of seeing you, to compleat that Joy; and
to hear you tell me, you were more sen∣sible of my Absence, then of your Di∣stemper, that so I may be able to forget what your Sickness has caus'd me to en∣dure. My Vexations have been so much the more sharp and terrible, by Reason I am enforc'd to restrain and confine 'em within my own Brest. I am here con∣strain'd to be Complaisant, and sometimes in a merry Humour. But while I seek to divertise others, and that they Flatter me with being acceptable Company, I tor∣ment my self beyond Expression, and wholly possess'd by my Sorrows, I abhor all the Delights, with which the rest of the Society are pleas'd. Sometimes, as∣sail'd by my Misfortunes, I endeavour'd to repell 'em. And more then once I have essay'd I must Confess, by means of the present Objects, to wear out the Impression which you have printed on my Mind. The small Hope of ever be∣ing Happy in that Friendship I have for yee, and the terrible Misfortunes, to which I am every Day expos'd by the severity and vigilance of my Parents, have tempted me to put yee quite out of my Thoughts. But all these Reflexions prove Fruitless; and the most violent Di∣versions, leave an empty space in my
Heart, which only you can supply. I find none but you that Merits my Esteem and Tenderness. You so entirely possess me, that I can hardly taste the Sweets of Friendship; in regard, you appear to me, to be the only Person worthy to be my Friend as well as Husband. As for the Friendship of Women, you well know what an Opinion I have of it; and ha∣ving so much Reason to suspect the Fail∣ing of my Female Friend, as I took her to be, I shall never engage in a strict Tye of Friendship with any other. What would I give to be here, while the Court resides in this Country! I spent the whole Day Yesterday, where it is to remain. I saw all the Places which you will see, and envy their Happiness. I would pur∣chase that Place where I might be seen by you, at the price of all that is most dear to me in the World. But the Morning advances apace, and the heat of the Sun drives me from my Window, where I am writing these Lines. However, be∣fore I go to Bed again, I will give you a Prospect of my Chamber. It looks out upon a large Garden surrounded with Terras'd Walks, having on the right Hand, a Grove of Orange-Trees, and on the other, a gloomy Thicket, ex∣treamly
Delightful for the shady Covert of the spreading Boughs. The Genil runs at the bottom of the Terras, clearer then in any other part. A stately House seat∣ed on the other side of the River, serves for a piece of Perspective to this. On the one side, you behold a spacious City, on the other a Royal Palace, and in se∣veral Parts such pleasant Hillocks, that the Elysian Fields could never be more Charming. A Thousand Boats and small Vessels, obedient to the Stream, amuse the Eyes, and at the very instant of my writing, the early Sun-Beams afford still new Charms to so many admirable Objects. At this very moment I behold one of the most beautiful Pittances of the Universe. But, alas! I do not see you there: And then, what Pleasure can all these Varieties afford me? Rather they call back my wandering Sorrows, while the Prospect of so many Places, so pro∣per for such tender Conversations as ours, makes me more sensible of the hard Fate that separates us. But I must not Com∣plain so soon, considering what I have so lately avoided. The Thoughts of having escap'd an eternal Separation, asswages my Pains; for mine is almost at an end I am returning to Grenada. Adieu, Sir;
for I once more find yee Tender and Faithful.
YOu're an ungrateful Man: I never Lov'd yee so Tenderly as now I do; and if my Affection be less for you, 'tis because you have no more Kindness for me. What a Pleasure 'tis to me, to hear you make the same Complaints which I did formerly! How sweet is this Revenge to my Heart! Ah! how extream soever your Tenderness may be for me, yet will you still be behind-hand with me; since the Friendship I have for yee, prevails a∣bove that Haughtiness and Disdain which is more natural to Women then to Men. Nevertheless, you are still as Proud as ever; and notwithstanding the Vio∣lence of a Passion, which you would make me believe to be extream, yet no∣thing escapes yee, that may create a Sus∣pition in your Friend, that you are less belov'd. Is he so Happy as to Love such a Maiden as I, with so much Delicacy, as never to be satisfy'd with the Senti∣ments of her Heart? Wherefore is it, since you are not so fully pleas'd with mine, that you never disclose your Dis∣satisfaction
to my Friend? Your Tran∣quility of Mind offends me: I have display'd to her how hainously I take your Absence, and your Obstinacy, to tarry with the King, till the very last moment of his Return. Do you think I can be Contented with the small Power that I have? As for your part, you have Rea∣son to believe, that I will ever require yee to renounce your Duty. You well know how many Pleasures I have Sacri∣fic'd to the Performance of it, without Complaining. But, in truth, we have not always the same Reason about us. There are certain Minutes when Friend∣ship is too predominant over Sence and Judgment. I would fain, that your a∣bandoning your self to my Desires, might prove an Argument to inflame your Duty, and press yee to be more earnest to give your Attendance at Court.
WE shall see whether you will be as good as your Word; and whither you will not depart from hence, without my leave. I assure yee, I will grant it sooner then you imagine. My Relations put me to a great Strait, and require from me that
Care, that I shall never be able to take, when I know you are at Grenada. And thus you see me in the most ticklish Mi∣nutes of my Life. But I look upon the Restraint, that it will cost me, without Trouble, as being the only means that will facilitate the way to our Nuptials. I was Yesterday, all the Afternoon, with Dona Pepa, and she encourages me won∣derfully, and promises me, in a little time, the Happiness of your Company, with∣out such a deal of Caution. To bring it to pass, there is nothing which I will not undertake on my part: And, in regard I can never succeed, but by carrying my self with all Severity and Exactness, I will be sure to do all that can be done: For in short, Sir, 'tis time that our Suffe∣rings were at an end, and that our Pains, should at length, be Recompenc'd by a merited Retaliation of Delights. My Friend has assur'd me, that I might see you at her House, provided it be with great precaution on both sides; we cannot enjoy a greater Consolation, and less Dan∣gerous: And, 'tis my Opinion, that we should accept of this Offer for Monday, and that you give her a Visit upon Sunday, to desire of her, as a Favour, what she has already granted me. You will find this
Letter very full of Business; and there is good Reason for it; in regard it is impos∣sible to have Business of so great Impor∣tance, and not to consult about it.
I Am Troubl'd above measure, to think what will become of that same terrible Indignation, which you have conceiv'd against me. However, I rely upon your second Thoughts. Doubtless, you will find, when you come to consider seriously, that my Behaviour has not been so much blame-worthy, as it seem'd to ye at first. I hope you will write to me, and that you will not chide me any more. Ne∣vertheless, I am also no less afraid, least your Anger should continue, and that the Approbation of it, by your Friend and mine, has confirm'd you in it. But cer∣tainly, 'twould be my self, that would have much more Reason to let loose my Passion, should yee long cherish your Disgust, and not send to me any more as you threaten me. But your Senti∣ments are endu'd with too nice a•• Affection for me to forsake ye; because that for some time, I have pr••∣ferr'd my Duty before the Pleasure 〈◊〉〈◊〉
your Company, which is the only Plea∣sure of my Life. Believe me, I under∣stand it much better then you do. Nor is the Necessity of my Duty so opposite as you imagine to the Interest of our Love: And my being Sacrific'd at this time, will repay us, with double Use, the Pleasures which it now deprives us of. You threaten me, that I shall be always a Prisoner; but you deceive your self: And I repeat once more, what I have al∣ready signify'd in my Last, I must con∣fine my self a while, to please my Mo∣ther, and after that, I shall be out of her Managment. And I am so convinc'd of this, that nothing can alter my Resoluti∣on, not to hazard any thing till that time, when you shall see me both combat and vanquish my own Desires, and resist Love for Love's Sake. It has been our Impatience that has reduc'd us to the Necessity of so long a Remedy. My Father's Jealousies had never time to wast themselves: And, had we not been unhappy, we should ne'er have been able to have made our Misfortunes beneficial to us for the Fu∣ture. 'Tis time to amend our Errors, and to put our Selves in a Condition to unite our Destinies for ever.
YOU intended well, no doubt, but the Counsel which you gave me, to restrain my Grief, has not succeeded. All my Endeavours to conceal it, have only serv'd to render it more Violent. It made so strong an Impression in my Heart, that for Eight and forty Hours, no body hardly knew it, and all that I admitted into my Chamber were surpriz'd to see me. My Parents are more in∣cens'd against me then ever: They are persuaded I am in Love, and that you are the Object of my Passion; and the ill Success of their Persecutions has so ex∣asperated their Minds, that I have Reason to be afraid of their more violent Trans∣ports. But I have so well dis-entangl'd my self from their Disgust of my Devo∣tion for you, that they cannot forbear to Respect the Constancy of my Senti∣ments; and, for a while, both my Fa∣ther and Mother treated me with much more kindness and moderation, then they had done in a long time before. And thus, that which was my Crime, be∣comes my Consolation; since, while I understand, that 'tis my Tenderness for
you, which occasions all the Misfortunes of my Life, I also find, that so noble a Friendship, enforces them themselves that Persecute me, to have a Value for me. How strongly does this Experience con∣firm me in the Opinion I always had, ever since I had a Kindness for yee, that nothing more excuses a Virgin's Love, then Loving to excess; and, that then her Love appears to be excessive, even in the Judgment of the most Austere, when she is not observ'd by any Action of hers, to derogate from a real Esteem. Mine, for you, believe me, Sir, is ar∣riv'd to the highest Degree: Nor is it possible to Love a Man more tenderly then I Love you; nor to be more unfor∣tunate then I am. And now assure your self, that I shall never Pardon your shew∣ing your self to me, the last time that you are like to see me, more Airy, and more Lovely then ever I saw yee before. If the Idea of your Person, which you have imprinted in me, be such as may justly incline me to a Dislike of all other Men, it is no less capable, more deeply to engage me to have a greater Affection for you. And it behoves you, for my Welfare, to wish, that I had never Lov'd yee at all.
WE have no Reason to be afraid of remote Misfortunes: they must be near at hand, to be felt in their full Ex∣tent; and whatever I have suffer'd for these Fifteen Days together, all is no∣thing to a surprizing Apprehension which has siez'd me, not above two hours agoe, that I must never see you more, perhaps as long as I live. The Business is concluded; my Parents have taken their Resolutions; and I am ruin'd past Recovery, should I discover the least Motion tending to a Cor∣respondence with you. My Father is in∣form'd of every thing, and is resolv'd up∣on the utmost Extremities. This is no pannick Fear; for one of his Friends dis∣clos'd it to me yesterday. My Father has carry'd things too high, to go back from his Determinations: and I have no other Course to take then to plunge my self in Solitude and Lamentation. The very moment of so cruel a separation is no time to express my thoughts at large: we should but augment an unfortunate Ten∣derness, which it behoves us rather to wish extinguish'd. Not but that I my self would have it to be eternal. I have lov'd ye in
such a manner as to love ye as long as I live. My Tenderness and my Esteem have always been so extraordinary, and I have seen ye so seldom, that I am assur'd I should love ye, tho' I never saw ye. Ne∣ver shall Indifferency take place in those Sentiments which I have for ye. But as for you Sir, whose more sedate Affection has more need of my Company and my Letters, to cherish and keep it alive, may I flatter my self, that you will not forget me, but that preserving the Remembrance of my Person, and of the Marks of E∣steem and Distinction which I have always paid ye, you will be always ready to keep your Word, if ever I happen to be at Li∣berty to act according to my Inclination? For never think that I have lost all my Hopes of seeing you again one day. If these fair Hopes did not support me, doubtless I should dye, and sink for ever under the Burthen of my Sufferings. But still I flatter my self, that Time and For∣tune will recover me from a Condition so unhappy and miserable; and enable me to give you new Testimonies of my Tender∣ness.
YOU have been taken for a Thief; and you have been taken for what you were: for no Man in the World knows better how to steal a Heart then you. The Clamours that have separated Us, and wherein we never thought you were concern'd, were all occasion'd by your self; and the Porter believing that Thieves were got into my Mother's Clo∣set, rais'd all the Servants, and made such a noise, that the like was never heard. However, you may be sure that I was none of those that was the least forward, or least daring, in regard I knew how small the Danger was that seem'd so for∣midable to a Band of Armed Footmen. They thought themselves for two hours together in the greatest Jeopardy that ever they were in, i' their Lives. 'Tis true, their fear was little in comparison of my Sister's, who is not yet recover'd from a terrible Fit of an Ague which she has had. But there could not have happen'd an Ac∣cident more pernicious to our Correspon∣dence. And this shews us, that there is nothing certain, since honest Ignez begins to stagger in her Design to Contribute to
our Meeting. This Morning she gave me a notable Curtain-Lecture, and I had like to have burst out into a great Fit of Laughter. For there was something so pleasant in the Accident, and in what was discours'd upon it, that my just Fears of what might be the future Conse∣quences, were not able to stifle my first Motions of Joy. And I can still hardly forbear Laughing, to think that my Mo∣ther was up a great part of the Night, fully persuaded, that had it not been for the Respect of the Watch-men to the House, she had been Robb'd by a great number of Thieves. For they that saw least, saw Four; and others saw Ten. If nothing has put yee out of Humour, this Adventure is worth Laughing at. Am I not deceiv'd, Sir, when I persuade my self, that your Grief to quit me, wholly took up your Thoughts, in the Confusion that attended the Miscarriage of this Adventure? For my part, I think upon nothing else, but the Danger to which you expose your self for my Sake, and the Resolution I have taken never to see you again, till I have reco∣ver'd so much Liberty, that I may see you with Freedom and Safety. I have too great a Value for yee, to act like a
Virgin that minds her own Satisfaction, more then the Person she Loves; and I am absolutely determin'd, that you shall run no more Hazards. How unfortu∣nate are We! All the Consolation we had, was only a Gra••e to talk through; and that, by Reason of this Night's un∣lucky Accident, now ceases to be Faith∣ful to us.
YOU see, by what I wrote you Ye∣sterday, how far I am from breaking off our Correspondence, and forsaking your Society. This ought to render yee more sensible of my Reproaches, and make yee acknowledge, that your Beha∣viour merits Reprehension; since you cannot suspect me of seeking to pick a High-German Quarrel with yee.
IS it not a shameful Thing for me to confess, that you have a great Com∣mand over me? One Minute of your Company, Sir, has dissipated all my Fears and Suspitions. I see very well that the greatest Injury you can receive,
in reference to me, is to be long with∣out a sight of me. I dare not believe my Presence has the same Effect upon you, as your Company has upon me; more especially, when I appear'd in such a careless Dress, that I was doubtful whe∣ther I should shew my self, or no, in that Condition: But, at length, my ea∣ger Desire to see you, vanquish'd all o∣ther Considerations. Nevertheless, do not think I will Pardon the Letter which I receiv'd soon after? or, that I will al∣low you the Liberty to tax me of Cold∣ness. Have you the Confidence to dis∣pute with me, who best knows how to Love? And tho' the Marks of your Esteem were as Superlative as those which I have pay'd to you, must not I be thought to Love infinitely much more, in Loving an Ingrateful Man, then you, tho' never so forward and respectful to so faithful a Mistress? Once more you are too daring to dispute with me the Lau∣rel-Wreath, which I have purchas'd by many Sufferings. 'Tis no less easie for me to justifie my self, upon the second Reproach, which you cast upon me, for Loving some body else, besides your self. I am persuaded, that an Esteem so solid as that which I have for you, infuses into
the Heart an inclination of Tenderness, which is not to be found in those, whose Hearts are unconcern'd; and that it ea∣sily disperses it self upon Objects, which the same Tenderness forbids us not to Love. Are the Motions of Nature op∣posite to those of Friendship? or, because I Love you, does it follow that I must have no Affection for my Relations?
HOW Importunate you are! Hold a little — 'tis Day, — and I have not so much as clos'd my Eyes. Is it not sufficient, that your Company awakens those Motions in me, that till now, I ne∣ver was acquainted with? Must I be expos'd to 'em also in your Absence? But you are not absent; you are present in my Heart, and in my Thoughts; and if I may believe my own Tenderness, you are present in every part of my Bo∣dy. Let me be but quiet for one Hour. I have hitherto known nothing but Grief; spare me the Pleasure of believing my self to be belov'd. But can I have any Delight, when my Happiness costs me all the Innocence of my Life? Yet, I never, in a mood of Repentance, up∣braided
my self for Loving you. The inclination of my Heart is so little go∣vern'd by the Will, that 'tis impossible we should give an Account of our Affe∣ctions. But, could I not forbear your Company, and telling yee how won∣drously I love yee? Yes— my Duty bid me shun yee— Alas! How is it pos∣sible to fly the Person that we Love? Acknowledge to me then, that there is no greater Vertue in the World, then to Love Passionately and Constantly. For, in short, I always thought my self to be Vertuous: Do you persuade me likewise, that I am so, and that I should deceive my self, if I thought my Vertue in the least impair'd by my Propensity to Ten∣derness.
I Have need of all the Pleasure which I take in renewing the Assurances of my Tenderness, to comfort me for the trouble and vexation which the Court∣ship of your Rival cost me. Good God! What an odious Creature is he! How equal∣ly distastful are his Complements, and his Rudeness! How many cruel, how many disdainful Virgins would there be,
if all Men were like him? For my part, should be Canoniz'd before my Death. am very glad, that maugre all outward Appearances, you are sensible how far re∣mote, I am from forgetting yee; that so in ••ny turn I may be able to flatter my self with the same Opinion. I must confess 〈◊〉〈◊〉 did not foresee this unlucky Accident, ••n the Assistance of a Person that makes ••t her principal Business to serve us; and, ••hat I bestow'd the most outragious Terms ••maginable upon the Motives of your Silence. For Four and twenty Hours to∣gether, I thought you had forgot me; ••nd that, with an Oblivion so profound, that I thought Reproaches in vain for ••ou, and too mean for my self. Which was the Reason you heard not from me all Yesterday.
I Am persuaded, that one Minutes Dis∣course with you would ruin all my suspitions. For, in regard I am so whol∣••y taken up with the Pleasure of your Company, I shall neither have time nor ••emember to ••••••isfie my Curiosity, whether I do not flatter my self too unwarily, then I believe you have a peculiar Kind∣ness
for me. I know already, that not∣withstanding all the Reasons, which one of my Friends alledg'd to convince me of the contrary, you will be too hard for Truth. Nay, I must have no Tender∣ness at all, to hold out against those As∣surances which you give me of your Fi∣delity. Good God! what would become of me, should I effectually believe my self Indifferent to the only Man in the World whom I Love. I believe then, that you Love me, or rather I am wil∣ling to think so. I banish from my Thoughts whatever is erroneous to that pleasing Mistake: If I am deceiv'd, I am willingly deluded. But, if it be pos∣sible, let it be your Business, that I may not be in an Error. And, if all your Endeavours to Love, prove unsuccess∣ful, conceal it from me. In that Case, I would not be too quick-sighted into your Heart. I should be willing to be blindfolded like Love himself. Per∣haps he would then be more favourable to me.
I Love ye with that Sincerity which no∣thing can equal but your Merit, and I am so highly pleas'd with the Choice which my Heart has made, that I am e∣very day then other, more and more con∣firm'd in my Affection. But know with∣all, that the Heat of your Passion puts me to a kind of Non-plus; your Expres∣sions are so brisk and airy, that I look up∣on my own as faint and void of Fancy. I wish they had the same Advantage over yours, as my Tenderness has over your Kindness for me. I cannot think of words that are significant enough to express my Sentiments. I have been apt to think that there is no Love in the World, but what is between you and me: but our Jealousies have quickly cur'd me of that Mistake. What Torments do's a violent Passion cause? and how necessary is it, that the Sweets which it affords us, should be ex∣tream, to make amends for the Disturban∣ces it gives us!
I Am just got Home; and I write to ye at the very same Instant. What could I do more, considering the Constraint to which a watchfull Jealousie has reduc'd me? Alas! Sir, if more were in my pow∣er, you would tell me all your Thoughts in reference to your last Adventure, and I would give you a full Account of all my restless Disturbances, and of the Effects of my Tenderness: it never was so quick and lively. The Excess of my Mother's Fury is redoubl'd, but notwithstanding all her Vigilance, we must see each other. This is not the first time that Love has found the way to deceive a wakefull Ar∣gus. I have spent above four and twenty hours where you have spent some part of your Time. I have review'd those Places that were the Witnesses of the first Misfor∣tunes of my Passion: I enquir'd of Them, what was become of ye; and methought they answer'd me, You were no longer ingratefull, nor insensible of my Love; and that they had been sometimes Testimo∣nies of your Sighs. Judge you by that, to what a strange Degree they flatter'd me. Confirm me in that pleasing Opinion, I
conjure ye, and assure me that they were as sincere as they were discreet. I have read your Letter, and laugh'd heartily at your dextrous and witty Stratagem by which you clouded the Vigilance of our Overseers. How well do they deserve to be cheated. You have infus'd into me an extraordinary Curiosity, to understand the Adventure that has befallen ye. What∣ever Oblations you offer to me, I deserve 'em all, for my Devotion to you: nor is there any thing which I should think too much to do for ye, were I as Amiable, as I am Faithfull.
YOur long Silence is not to be excus'd: whether unfaithfull or constant, I ought to hear from ye. But I shall forbear any more Reflexions; to the end, that by forgetting it, I may be able to avoid the sharp Rebukes of a just Resentment. I am willing to pardon this Fault, induc'd thereto by the same Indulgence I have had for a great many others. I have us'd ye perchance, too much to Pardons, and you look upon 'em as Helps at Need that you can never fail of. But do not believe, but that my Patience in suffering the
Wrongs you do me, and my Docility have certain Limits. I am altogether in∣capable of engaging my Heart a second time; you may depend upon it; yet am I not so ty'd to one particular Person, but that I can renounce my vehement Affecti∣on for you, when I find ye unworthy of it. My Converse in the World has ac∣quainted me so much with the Levity and Inconstancy of Women, that methinks they who are not such as they are, may well be proud, and put a value upon them∣selves. A faithfull Heart is worth the Trouble of a little Observance.
YOU have afforded me a World of Pleasure in giving me a full Account how you have spent your time, till we saw each other last; and I am glad that I have made ye a Piece of a Philosopher. A Man that would be happy must study Phi∣losophy. But have a care of going too far: there is a Merit in Error; and it is requisite a Man should be a Fool in many things, to live with any kind of Felicity. The only Philosophy to be desir'd is that which encreases Pleasure by intermixing with it the Alloy of Reason. But above all things avoid the Rock of too much Knowledge.
'Tis enough to know, that all we see must have an end; that we our selves have our Periods set us, and to fortifie our selves against these Thoughts. However we are not to make our selves insensible of present Objects, out of an idle Opinion that what is subject to perish, is not worthy our Af∣fection. It behoves us to enjoy the Present, and leave it to Time to make the Separa∣ration: that is the Work of Death, and not of our Will. The Wise-man is oblig'd to submit with Patience to it, and not to prevent it. This is my Philosophy. But to satisfie your Curiosity, that fain would be inform'd how I employ my Time, I shall give ye an Account in part, notwith∣standing the Extremity of my Head-ach, and the late hour of the Night.
In making my Reflexions, I have found that True Wisdom consists in conforming our selves to our present Condition; that Prudence which teaches us to avoid Trou∣ble, is the soundest part of Wisdom. And for that Reason I have fix'd it in my head to make my Life at Home as easie as it is possible, and to omit nothing that may procure me Quiet in my Family. And to effect this, has been my principal Business, next to that which my Tender∣ness for you imposes upon me. I have
made it a Law to my self, not to contend with those People, with whom I am to live, about things which they are obsti∣nately bent upon. And to the end that such a continual Compliance may not be uneasie, I have bethought my self that there is hardly any thing worth the Trou∣ble which we suffer by opposing what is requir'd from us. There is nothing in the World that I know, which has not Two Faces; and therefore it seems to me un∣just, that we should desire that all the World beside should have the same Pros∣pect of things that we have. Who can assure himself that he is in the Right? and therefore in regard of this Uncertainty, is it not unjust to look upon all those that hold not the same Opinions with us, as I lind and Obstinate? We must not think that Maxims were made but only for con∣siderable Things: however it behoves us to put 'em in practice every day, upon slight and trivial Occasions: they are of excellent use to inspire the Mind with Ju∣stice, and settle the Heart in Quiet. When we make a right Benefit of 'em, we do not always look upon the difference of Sentiments as an Effect of that Opposition and Aversion which People have to us, but only as the Effect of a Difference
which Nature has put between several Minds, and then we look upon it without Bitterness or Exasperation. I support that Patience which I stand in need of, to endure what I am enforc'd to suffer, by reflecting upon what I owe to those that confine me under this Restraint. I con∣template the plausible side of their Actions. I excuse the Torments which they put me to, by attributing 'em to the Desire they have to perfect me in Vertue, and I most ardently wish for that Perfection. I en∣deavour every day to forget what I have suffer'd all day long. I would not harbour in my Heart neither Hatred, nor Desire of Revenge. I give my self wholly up to Love, which I look upon to be the Touchstone of Wisdom. A Body must have a great deal to preserve it in Com∣pany with a Passion that seeks the Destru∣ction of it. But for my part, I am apt to be∣lieve a Woman may love, and yet be a Philosopher. There is a sort of Love which Philosophy cannot condemn, be∣cause there is something in it of Divinity; the Object of which is the Union of Souls, which is above the Pleasures of Sense, and sustains it self without 'em, by the Help of an unshak'n Constancy. I am convinc'd that it is a shamefull thing to
change, that it behoves us to love the same Things, so long as they observe in∣violable Fidelity; and that Vertue con∣sists in an extraordinary Care never to offend the Laws of Decency, and not in being cautious to subdue the Sentiments which Nature inspires into us, and which are conformable to right Reason.
With these same Philosophical Contem∣plations, which I take out of my Seneca and Plutarch, I join the Recreation of my Needle, and in a piece of Tent-stitch, intermix a Thousand Cyphers that dis∣course of our Love; and I never stir a∣broad, but when I go to Church, and sometimes to the Governess. My long Melancholy, has made me so subject to the Head-ach, that I am seldom with∣out it, in a most terrible manner, Three Days together; and the Motion of the Litter, together with my want of Sleep, has encreas'd the violence of the Pain. Nor can I meet with any other Remedy to give me Ease, but by thinking upon that which pains me a Thousand times more sensibly, the want of your Society. That renders me insensible of all other Tortures whatever. And thus, Sir, I have given you an Account, in part, of my Employments in your Absence. I
would also addict my self to the study of the Latin Tongue. But my Mother has too great a Veneration for old Adagies, to foregoe the Proverb, which says, That a Woman that speaks Latin, seldom comes to Good. But if ever I come to be at my own Liberty I will learn it, and neglect nothing to render my self amia∣ble in your Eyes. Good Night, Sir, I strive in vain, to contend with my Head∣ach; I can hold out no longer, Day be∣gins to break, and I have never so much as thought of going to Bed. The Head∣ach and Love, are the best Larum. Wat∣ches that I know in the World. My Confident is tyr'd with the Feebleness of my Love, and the Infirmities of my Bo∣dy. She believes her self with the Fel∣low that attended upon Don Japhet:
To be within that Northern Clime confin'd, Where he that sleeps, is Curst by all Mankind.
IF you look'd upon Revenge to be sweet, you might enjoy the Pleasures of it: For never was a Man, who had the free Grant of a Maid, with whom he was in Love, so ill treated as is Don Gaspar.
He would seem to affect a kind of Cold∣ness for me, within these few Days. And, that which has been put into our Head, in reference to our Correspon∣dence, has very much alarum'd him. But I well know what an Ascendant I have over him; so that as soon as a little Re∣serv'dness and Care, on my part, have waken'd his Suspitions, he will return to me submissive and eager in his Courtship; and I shall make use of the same Ascen∣dant, to let him understand his unworthy Behaviour toward me, and how deeply I resent it. I burn already with Impati∣ence to see my self in a Condition to make him sensible of my Indignation. How dearly will I make him Pay for the Miseries which my Relations make me suffer! They are so insupportable, that they cannot fail to infuse into me a De∣sire to turn the Blows upon them, that are so cruel to me. My Heart is at this very present, full of an unfortunate Tender∣ness, and an implacable Hatred: And I will satisfie both the one and the other, at the expence of my Life.
IF there need no more, then to be be∣lov'd of me, ungrateful Man, to ren∣der yee Happy, my Weakness assures yee an eternal Felicity. The knowledge of your unworthy Proceedings is not able to expell yee from my Heart. But what would yee have of me? Your acknow∣ledgment of what you said to Dona Jua∣na, has no Relation to your greater Of∣fence. You have committed several o∣thers, in reference to my self, which you feign to have forgot, or which you com∣mitted so naturally, that you had no room for 'em in your Memory. When you have a mind to be better inform'd, you will find out a way to speak with me. For my part, I am so narrowly watch'd, that I can make but little use of my In∣vention. Besides, it is your Business and not mine; and I know there is nothing impossible with Love. You are but ill inform'd of the Condition to which I am reduc'd, since you think me at Liber∣ty to go to a Play. My Father and Mo∣ther, tho' they have no Cause to find fault with any one of my Actions, are so bitterly incens'd against me, that their
Anger Transports 'em to the last Extre∣mity: I undergo Afflictions infinitely Cruel: But, at length, it behoves me to understand what I have to do. If it be my unhappy Fate, to be undone by those that should study my Repose, 'twould be in vain to resist. I have no other Course to take, but what my De∣spair shall advise me to: I have too long struggl'd with it: I find I am born to eternal Misfortunes, and all the Reason, and good Conduct in the World, will never purchase my Tranquility. This is my Condition; 'tis very Terrible; but, what Matter is it to me? since I can no longer hope to see yee no more. When a Woman truly loves, the Person that she Loves, is All in All to her; and all the World beside, she looks upon as No∣thing You render me altogether Indif∣ferent: The most Solitary, the most Me∣lancholy Life, is that which best sutes with the Condition of my Soul. What has she to do with Joy and Pleasure, that is not permitted to share 'em in your So∣ciety? However, sometimes bestow a Thought or two upon the deplorable Condition, into which my past, and pre∣sent Esteem for you has thrown me. But you'll forget, perhaps, that such a one
was ever in the World; and I am out of hopes of ever seeing my Misfortunes at an end. They will receive no augmen∣tation from your daily Visiting Dona Juana. 'Tis a good Thought that is come into your Mind, and a proper Consolati∣on of your little Grief for being debarr'd for ever from me. In a small time you will be Happy, and publickly known to be her Lover. I am apt to believe, that this Artifice, or rather this same Truth, might not be unprofitable for me, if you so pleas'd your self. For I am for∣bid, for the future, to have any thing more to do with that Lady, and your Se∣dulities for her, would be the only Reason for me to alter my Conduct, which could not but work a good Effect to my Advantage. But if you intend to pur∣sue that Conquest, you must do it so o∣penly, that the noise of your Victory may reach my Parent's Ears. Good Night, Sir; I am loath to let you see the Fear I am in, least, while you Counter∣feit Affection, you should intangle your self in Earnest; or, least you should Sa∣crifice my Letters to her Derision. My Fear for the one, does you too great an Honour; my dread of the other, is a Mortification to my self. Adieu.
HOW strangely did your Company affect me all the time the Comedy lasted! What an intermixture of Delight and Grief! How Charming it is, to see the Person that we Love! How Cruel is the Thought of quitting him for ever! Can you seriously believe me able to support your far distant Absence from me, with any Patience? Oh! Sir, if you can think me capable of such an In∣differency, you have but an ill Opinion of your own Merit, and my Sentiments.
THE Counsel which you give me, and the Care you take for my Se∣curity, is a perfect Demonstration of a real Tenderness. I begin, at length, to flatter my self, that you have an Affe∣ction for me. But the more generous you are in my behalf, the more you deserve that I should hazard my self for you; and I should be unworthy of such a Friend, should I refuse to expose my self for his sake. Forbear then, Sir, to ad∣vise me not to write to yee: Be con∣vinc'd,
Sir, that nothing can hinder me from paying you that proof of my par∣ticular Value. I shall not, by any means, neglect the Dictates of Prudence, but I cannot entertain so much, as might pro∣tect me from such Hazards and Chances, which may discover and expose me to the formidable Transports of my Parents, should I resolve to abandon my Love of you. Since nothing can chace you from my Heart, nothing can hinder me from giving assurances of my Fidelity; nor shall you ever find your Teresa Guilty of such a base unworthy Action, as to re∣nounce, for fear, a Gentleman, of whom she made a willing Choice, and Valu'd as the only Man, that merited to be her Husband. If I made some Attempts to have remov'd yee from my Heart, it was because I was induc'd to it by Sentiments more Noble. Nevertheless, I must ac∣knowledge, that I could never brook the Character of Disobedient, did I not flat∣ter my self, that the Care which I shall take of my Behaviour, will secure me from any such Reproach. I begin to take a little of that Boldness to my self, which you have preach'd so often to me, and not to be so easily Frighted. Expe∣rience teaches me, every Day, that there
are few things which we have reason to despair of, because there are few things which your Dexterity and Ingenuity are not able to alter the Design of, and dis∣appoint the Byass of the Project. And thus, Sir, notwithstanding both our Con∣ditions, I am in hope, and assume that Courage, which a certain happy Omen has infus'd into me, that I shall see you a∣gain as formerly, as 'twere a Member of our Family. Good God! how great a Felicity would that be for me!
VVHatever Idea you may have of my Person, it cannot make that Impression upon you as the Idea of yours imprints in me. You are more lovely in my Eyes then any thing that ever I be∣held, and I have so true a Relish, that I dare believe without Prejudice, that what appears to me to be so, is really such. But this is not my Judgment alone, the whole Court is of my Opinion. Your most bitter Enemies also will do that Justice to your Person, at the same time that they cry down your Heart. However I know your Heart; and I know nothing there, but what may well become a Person of
Sincerity. Thus you appear to me ac∣complish'd, and I adore ye as a Piece of Perfection; that is to say, I have an infi∣nite Esteem for ye, and whatever Tor∣ments I suffer'd and still undergo, I do not think 'em all too much for your sake. These are such Sentiments that you can never have but with great Difficulty, be∣cause there is a great Difference between our Persons and our Humours.
I Am apt to believe that I have not suffi∣ciently exprest in the Letter, which I sent you this Morning, the whole of what yours made me sensible. No, Sir, I have not told ye often enough, how extreamly overjoy'd I am to see you again, and once more to see you sensible of my Ten∣derness. How great a Satisfaction, how true a Delight the Thought of this ex∣cites in my Soul! How advantageous to my Heart will that Combat of Friend∣ship be, of which you give me a Hint! I am already sure of the Victory; but will you not envy me my Lawrels? I wish to Heaven you would dispute 'em with me, and that you might be a Victor in your Turn. How greatly should I be plea∣sed
with the Defeat! then would it be that the Fortune of the vanquish'd would become the Envy of the Conquerour. You will not expose me to this shame; and tho' it should be my Lot, you will be still my Inferiour in every thing. For my part, I am resolv'd not to yield your Heart the Pre-eminence of Grief: I will dispute the Sovereign Power over it. Wherefore should not the Fidelity of mine be equal to the Sincerity of yours? Why should not my Friendship, that is so nice and full of Spirit, supply the Love and Charms of the Lady you have lost? Yes, yes, I flatter my self, that my Sentiments may render me amiable, and that you will find in my manner of loving ye, for Ten years together, a Beauty that will charm ye, and a Remedy that will close up for e∣ver that Wound which Grief lays open now and then. Your Cure is only in the Hands of Love; 'tis he that must apply the Medicine which he thinks most pro∣per. But what better Remedy can he make use of, then to bestow another Wife upon ye? I flatter my self, that then you will think only upon me, and that Grief no longer then, will have any Power over ye. Surrender up your Heart to all the Tenderness of which it may be capable in
my behalf. What is it that you fear? Are you afraid of loving me more then I de∣serve?
YOU flye me perhaps as Sylvio fled Dorinda, and I shun you, as Amarillis hunn'd Myrtillo. These two manners of ••voiding each other are quite different. Hatred was the Cause of the One, and Love of the Other. But, Sir, let us not fancy new Pains to torment our selves: Let us make use of our Courage to sup∣port our selves under those which we can∣not avoid: Let us alleviate 'em with the Hope of being one day happy, and let us love eternally. I love you entirely; I swear it by your self and me; by all the Oaths that you have sworn to marry me; by Love it self; and by those Minutes of Delight that have been intermix'd with so many tedious Hours of Care and Sor∣row; by all your Transports, and by my own Tenderness, of which the most Charming Evenings have been Witnesses. I swear it by that Grove consecrated to Venus, where I receiv'd your hand, and gave you mine. Can the most violent Despite deface it from your Memory?
No, Sir, you can ne'er forget it; nor can you remember a Person that so well knows how to love, but you must love agen. Let us bind our selves in Bonds more strong, and yet more noble then those that bind the Hearts of others. Let it be a pleasure to yee, to have a Friend that merits equal∣ly your Esteem and Love; and know by my way of Proceeding how much you may rely upon my Sentiments. I ought to be justify'd in your good Opinion; clear me also in the good Opinion of your Friend, whose Esteem I look upon as a real Happiness. Conceal not from him either my Reasons or my Inclinations. I am sure, he will be sorry for having con∣demn'd me so hastily, and that he will be∣lieve me worthy of your Heart.
I Have been reading Two Epistles of Se∣neca. The Eighth and Fifth has afford∣ed me some Consolation. I was asham'd that I could not suffer my Miseries with∣out weeping: but he tells me, That Ver∣tue cannot hinder certain Motions within us, which intimate to us, That we must dye; that it is not Fear that causes a Wise Man in the midst of his Sufferings to knit
his Brows, but a natural Inclination which Reason cannot correct. Send me word, whether the Gentleman that is with ye be a Philosopher; whether he has a tender Heart; and whether you still talk of me as you were wont to do. I remember once you wrote me word that he took me for a kind of a Sybil: assure him that within these Two Months I shall be Eighteen years of Age. I am incompa∣rably much better then you have seen me. When you were here, I was so turmoil'd, that I liv'd without Eating or Sleeping. Adieu, Sir,— I am going to try whe∣ther I can leave off Sleeping; Sleep was never ordain'd for the Unfortunate. I have sought in vain for some Repose in my Bed; but I can hope for no Consola∣tion unless it be in communicating my Sufferings to your Self. I find indeed that I talk of 'em with more Pleasure and Con∣fidence then it behoves me to have in ye. Methinks my Anger forsakes me in spight of all that I can do. But believe me Sir, 'tis to the excessive Severity of my Parents that you are beholding for this Return of my Tenderness. Nothing more supports me under my Misfortunes, then the Con∣solation of imparting 'em to your Know∣ledge; they are above all Expression;
and the Reflexion that lessens others, makes mine appear more dreadful. I cannot apprehend how People can be so cruel, to Persecute an unfortunate Crea∣ture to that Degree as I am harras'd. My Mother told me, that I had no other Course to take, but to yield an absolute Obedience to my Father's Will. And now, that I can no longer Flatter my self, it behoves me to conceal nothing from yee. And I would fain find out the way, by making you acquainted with my Misfortunes, to raise, in you, the same Compassion which you demand of me, and which I would be ready to grant if you deserv'd it. But you are rather to be Envy'd: You force your self to be be∣lov'd, with a Friendship the most Sin∣cere that ever Virgin harbour'd in her Breast, when Sentiments so rarely known, and so fit to flatter your Vanity, cost yee not so much as a Sigh. You find by my Expressions, that I am not over-forward in giving Credit to yours: And this same Mark of distrust I let you see, perhaps, to the end you may convince me better. Good God! How many things do I ac∣quaint you with, which I thought never to have spoke of while I liv'd! They that are in Love, ought to be careful
of making rash Vows. There is no grea∣ter Misfortune that could have befallen me, then to be the Object of their Scorn whom I my self find so Contemptible. And if there be any Consolation for the Necessity of leaving you for ever, I shall find it in the Revenge which I shall take upon 'em, by constraining 'em to value and Respect the Constancy and Purity of those Sentiments which they would en∣force me to stifle. But as for you, Sir, what Sentiments shall I infuse into your Breast? Alas! I always look'd upon it as my greatest Happiness, that you believ'd me much more worthy of Respect then any other. So that whatever befall me, and whatever Persecutions I endure, I shall not think my self altogether Misera∣ble, if you will but afford me the sole Possession of your Esteem.
VVEre it in my Power to com∣plain of all my Sufferings, and make you bear a sensible and cordial Part in my Misfortunes, they would not be so terrible as they are. But; alas! I have too justly merited the Mortifications I have suffer'd. My Tenderness has caus'd me
to commit Offences inexcusable, and the greatest of all, was the choice of a Lover, who never Lov'd me in good Earnest. But I am cur'd, at length, of my Blind∣ness. I know that you never Lov'd me: And I know it so well, that 'twould be a Folly in me to doubt of it. The Proof which I have of it I never gather'd from Don Gaspar's Malice, which I understand in the full Extent of it. I make no questi∣on but he made use of the Converse which I had with him, to thick'n the Tempest, which, at length, brake out in Thunder. However, he was not the only Person that contributed to the Storm. The People, who are an Obstacle to your good Fortune, have made your Passion the Subject of their Chat, and by testify∣ing their Knowledge of it to be true, have put my Parents in a terrible Rage; and they fall foul upon me, which has re∣duc'd me under that Restraint, that I am forbid, under pain of a publick Affront, to stir abroad to any Place whatever. So that it would be in vain for you to seek after me. All Pleasures are debarr'd me: But, alas! they take but little from me; the Condition of my Heart is such, as will not permit me to tast of any. I'm more miserable then ever I was. Former∣ly,
it was some Relief to me in my Affli∣ctions, that I believ'd yee not indifferent, but a zealous Lover. Heaven has depriv'd me of that Comfort also: And my Pains and Sufferings are no longer sup∣portable; because that he, whom I love, appears unworthy to be belov'd. This unjust Lover, who has been more dear to me, then my Life, and for whom had I had 'em, I would have sacrific'd a Thou∣sand Lives, was never sensible of the most tender Passion in the World; only his Vanity has shar'd in a Correspondency which his Heart despis'd. Nor can I question these dreadful Truths, whatever Inclination I may have to delude my self. Could I speak with yee, you would ac∣knowledge your Faults: But, in regard they are daily and hourly committed, and of a nature never to be Pardon'd, to what purpose would it be to tell yee of 'em? and therefore, it behoves me to flye your Presence, as I would do a dis∣mal Precipice. My Weakness, in Refe∣rence to your self, is known, and my Reason renders odious the Inclination of my Heart 'Twas only against that, that I have all along been striving; and Thanks to your Indifference, I have now quite done with strugling against that too.
However, you accuse me of breaking my Word. But you that are so ill an Obser∣ver of your own Promises, are not you afraid of those Stings of Conscience, that attend upon evil Actions? Can you think upon all that I have suffer'd for yee, and not dye, at the same time struck with the Infamy of your Ingratitude? And, those ill Returns of my Sincerity and Friendship, will they not cause yee to appear, in your own Eyes, the most un∣worthy of all Mankind? I am naturally too little addicted to Revenge, and too much dispos'd to treat you favourably, to wish you a Revenge proportionable to the Pains which you have made me un∣dergo. But, as for Repentance, I wish yee as much as you have need of, that is, as much as can be wish'd. 'Tis the sole Desire I have, to trouble your Re∣pose, which obliges me to prolong a Life, that you have made me hate, and which can never be other then unfortunate. But I am too tedious in bewailing my Misfortunes, to a Person altogether insen∣sible of 'em. Men little mind the Mis∣chiefs that they create on purpose; and therefore, the best way for me, is an eter∣nal Silence. If you have any Goodness yet remaining for me, you will not stir
a Foot to make me break it. Forget me therefore, if you can; you have my free Consent. I cannot say, whether I can do as much, as to your self; nor do you de∣serve to know the Sentiments of my Heart.