And several other Subjects.

All Written by Ladies.

Vol. I.

Printed for S. Briscoe over aflawed-reproduction
Will’s Coffee flawed-reproduction


to the

The Report of my
going to Print the
Adventures of Olinda, written
by her self, in some
Letters to a Friend, having
Rais’d an Emulation
in some other Ladies, several
others were sent me
by the Penny Post in unknownA2 known A2v
Hands, while the
first were in the Press,
with a desire to have them
also publish’d. I joyfully
embrac’d the Proposition,
and thought that it would
be a great piece of Injustice
to deprive the public
of the satisfaction of seeing
them: But coming
too late, I Resolved to
Print ’em in another
Volume not doubting in
the least but the Ladies
Letters will meet with
a very favourable Reception,
since Letters are so
much in Vogue.

Some of these are
Translations, and set down as A3r
as such, but still by Ladies,
and done after the best
Hands. They are plac’d
without Order according
as they were sent without
the least Addition, or
Alteration. In the next
Volume, (which shall
be Publish’d with all
convenient speed) care
shall be taken to place
them more regularly.

Such Ladies as are desirous
to promote this Undertaking,
and to favor
the World with any Letters
in Prose or Verse upon
all manner of Subjects,
to be incerted in the next
Volume, are desired to A3 direct A3v
direct them to my Shop
in Russel-Street, Covent-
, over against Will’s
Coffee-House, and I ingage
to Comply with
their Desires. Excepting
all particular Reflections.

S. Briscoe.


to the

When I Received
Olinda’s Letters,
I thought ’em very agreeable,
and being of a Humour to
love to Communicate every
thing that pleases me, I
have sent ’em into the world,
to try if they can meet with
many of the same Tast. You
have ’em as they were sent me A4v
me without any Alteration
but the Names. Pray use
’em courteously, because they
are a fair Ladies; and if
you will, you may allow something
for their being Writ
Extempore, and without any
design of Publishing. But
perhaps you may find ’em so
Correct, that she will not be
much Oblig’d to you for your
favour; but that in this
Age Envy and Malice Reigns
so high, that ’tis an Obligation
to have Justice done
one. However, I need not
take much pains to Court
you, sincee the good Natur’d
will be so without Entreaty,
and the ill Natur’d Critick will A5r
will lose his Aim here, where
neither the Author, nor the
Publisher are known; Olinda,
can’t be the woirse for
your Censure, and what hurt
will it do to me to hear that
Cleanders partial kindness
for his Friend, made him
admire all she said. Therefore
now I think on’t better,
you may e’ne do what you
will with ’em. As for the
rest, I can tell you no more
of ’em, but that they were
sent me in unknown Hands,
by the Penny Post, and that
I thought fit to give you that
which was Directed to me
with ’em, that you might
know as much about them as I A5v
I do. When Letters are so
much in Vogue, sure the Ladies
can’t fail of being acceptable,
therefore I need
say nothing of them, besides,
if they don’t recommend
themselves, my good Word
wou’d be of no great Effect;
the two which immediately
follow Olinda’s to me, I prevail’d
with her to give me
the Copies of (since they
wou’d come out in such good
Company) to satisfie those
who might have the Curiosity
to know how she Writ
to her Lover, since she
Treats her Friend with so
much Tenderness. This is
all I have to say to you, and A6r
and I think I have detain’d
you long enough for nothing,
for I believe you are not
much Wiser than you were
at the Beginning of this
Epistle; but it’s Civil to
say something, tho never so
little to the purpose.

The A6v
B1r 1

of a
Young Lady.

Written by her self, in several Letters
to a Gentleman in the Country.

Letter I.

Dear Cleander,

Ihope I need not tell you how
uneasie this tedious Absence
makes me; for I must confess
as troublesome as I find it,
and as much as I Value you, I can’t
but wish you may be able to guess
at it by what you suffer your self:
A strange Effect of the highest degreeB gree B1v 2
of Friendship; for if I had less
for you, I shou’d not so earnestly
desire to hear you are in pain; but
such Contradictions are no Mysteries
to you, who understand so well
the little Niceties of Friendship.
That you may see I study nothing
more in this solitude than to oblige
you; I’ve Resolved to employ most
part of my time in complying with
that Request you’ve often made me,
of giving you a particular account
of all that has happen’d to me in
my Life; tho I fear I shall lose part
of that Esteem which you have hitherto
preserved for me, by acquainting
you with some Passages
of it, which yet I hope have nothing
in ’em so ill, that the kindness
of a Friend may’nt find out
something in the Circumstances of
the Story to Excuse: for tho perhaps
I have not always been so
nicely cautious as a Woman in strictness
ought, I have never gone
beyond the bounds of solid Virtue. To B2r 3
To put all to the hazard then, I
will give you a faithful Account of
all my Weaknesses. My Father dying,
left me when I was very young
to the Tuition of a Mother, who
as you know is qualify’d for such a
Charge equal to any of her Sex;
and she indeed perform’d her part
as well as her small Fortune wou’d
permit her, which was scarce sufficient
to maintain her, in that Rank
her Birth had placed her. However
she gave me all the Education
that was necessary; but I believe
you’l excuse me if I pass over all
that occur’d till I was thirteen, for
about that time I begun to fancy
my self a Woman, and the more
to perswafe me to it, I happen’d
to be acquainted with a Gentleman
whose Name was Licydon, who the
first or second time I saw him
seem’d to have so much confidence
in me, that he told me a long story
of his Love, and ever after
shew’d me all the Letters he either B2 Writ B2v 4
Writ to, or receiv’d from his Mistress:
This you must think did
not a little please me, and I thought
my self as Wise as the Grayest Polititian,
when he ask’d my Advice
in any of his Affairs, especially
when I heard him commended by
many for a Man of great Parts.
One day that we were by our selves,
we fell into a Discourse of Womens
making Love; he Argu’d that ’twas
very unjust to deprive ’em of the
satisfaction of discovering a Passion,
which they were as much subject
to as Men: I said as much against
him as I cou’d, but he had
more dexterity to manage his Argument
than I; so that I was easily
brought to agree with him;
but said ’twas well that custom was
observed, since the compliasance
which was paid by their Sex to
ours, wou’d sometimes oblige ’em
to comply contrary to their Inclination;
for I cou’d not imagine
how they cou’d civilly refuse a Ladiesdies B3r 5
Intreaties. He told me if I
wou’d Write a Declaration of Love
to him, he wou’d shew me how
it might be Answer’d with a great
deal of Respect, without any Love.
I consented to do it, and accordingly
did the next day, and he return’d
me an Answer which satisfied
me: This, tho it may seem a
trivial thing, you will find by the
sequel, had like to have produc’d
but ill Effects. Some time after
this he brought a Friend of his to
Visit us, who was of a good Family;
but according to the English
custom of breeding the younger
Sons to Trades; he was a Goldsmith,
but a great Beaux, and one
who seem’d to have a Soul above
his Calling: He ask’d Licydon if he
had any pretensions to me, which
when he assur’d him he had not,
he told him he was very glad he
had not a Rival in a Friend; for
he was hugely smitten, and shou’d
need his Assistance in his design; B3 for B3v 6
for he had observ’d such an intimacy
between us, as gave him Reason to
think he had great influence over
me; and he was sure he wou’d not
deny him, if he was not my Lover.
Licydon assur’d him he had
only a Friendship for me, and that
he wou’d use all his Credit with me
to perswade me to receive all his
Addresses favourably; which he did
as soon as he had an opportunity.
He said all of him that he could
imagine most engaging, and especially
of the Violence of his Passion.
I was well enough pleas’d
with the Love, tho’ not with the
Lover; for ’tis natural at that unthinking
Age to covet a croud of
Admirers, tho’ we despise them:
But I believe I need not confine
that Vanity to Youth, many of our
Sex are troubled with it, when one
wou’d think they were Old enough
to be sensible of the Folly, and
inconvenience of being continually
Courted, and haunted by Men they have B4r 7
have an indifference, or perhaps an
Aversion for. For my part I think
there is no greater torment; but I
was of another Opinion then, and
therefore Rally’d at the Love, and
seem’d not to believe it; which I
warrant you gave great Encouragement
to my new Lover, when he
heard of it; for it’s a great Sign
one wou’d be convinc’d. So I’d
best prepare my self for an Attack,
which I did not expect long: It was
begun by a Billet Doux, which came
first to my Mothers Hands; and
when she gave it me, she ask’d what
Answer I wou’d return. I told her
I was wholly to be Govern’d by
her; but if I was to follow my
own inclination I wou’d not Answer
it at all: My Mother reply’d,
she thought it fit I shou’d Answer
it; for she believ’d I cou’d have no
aversion to him, and she did not
think it an ill Match, considering
my circumstances. Then I desir’d
her to indite a Letter for me, for I B4 saw B4v 8
saw well enough I shou’d not please
her. She gave me a Copy of one,
that without saying any thing that
was kind, gave him cause enough
not to despair; but I cou’d not dissemble
my Looks and Actions, in
which he observ’d so much Coldness,
that tho’ several Letters past
between us, that wou’d have given
hopes to a Man the least apt
to presume; he was often half an
hour with me alone, without speaking
one Word to me. At last he
complain’d to Licydon of the strange
contradictions in what I did, and
what I Writ; for when ever he begun
to speak to me of his Love I
check’d him with such severe Looks,
and turn’d the Discourse in such a
manner, that he durst proceed no
further, tho my Letters seem’d much
to his Advantage. Lycydon perswaded
him (as perhaps he thought
himself) that ’twas only my Modesty,
and that perhaps I shou’d
be more emboldned, if he cou’d get my B5r 9
my Mothers Consent to his Proposals.
Berontus, for that was his
Name, was as well satisfied with
this, as if I had told him so my
self; and away goes he immediately
to to my Mother, and tells her
he’s stark staring Mad in Love with
her Daughter: The next thing they
talk of, is Joynture and Settlements,
&c. and in fine they agree;
so I am call’d for, and commanded
to look upon this Spark as one that
must shortly be my Husband; and
to give us the more freedom my
Mother leaves us togethetr. “Well
(says he) “I have no opposites
to struggle with, your Mother
has given me her consent, and
you have given me hopes that you
will not refuse me yours.”
shou’d I do in this perplexity? I
had a firm Resolution never to Marry
him; but I found my Mother so
much set upon it, that I durst not
let it be known; besides I had engag’d
my self so far in Obedience B5 to B5v 10
to her, that I did not know how to
come off; but for the present I
wou’d be whimsical, and take time
to consider what I shou’d do hereafter.
So I put on a pet, and said,
“Berontus I don’t know what advantage
you think you have more than
before; but I’m sure a Lover wou’d
have found another way of Courting
his Mistress, than by her Mother;
and it may be you’ll find
your self never the nearer my heart
for having gain’d her: I hate a
Man that will depend upon any
other for my favour than my self.”

“Cruel Creature,” says he, “what pleasure
do you take in tormenting
me? You know that I love you
with the greatest respect imaginable,
and that I can’t be happy but
by you alone. I never had Recourse
to your Mother till you
had encourag’d me; and give me
leave to say it, your usage of me is
very unjust.”
I knew well enough he
was in the Right; but I wou’d not know B6r 11
know it: So that we parted both
much dissatisfied. How his thoughts
were employ’d I can’t pretend to
tell you; but I was continually
contriving how to get out of this
troublesome Affair. I cou’d find no
way but to tell him sincerely that
all that I had writ in his Favour
was by constraint; that I was too
young to think of Love, or Mariage,
and so trust to his Generosity;
and prevail with him, if possible, to
let it fall off his side. The first time
I had an opportunity of putting
my design in Execution, I thought
the poor Lover wou’d never have
liv’d to see me beyond those years
which serv’d as a pretence for my
refusal; but he was Wise enough
to baulk me, “If” says he, (after he
was come out of his Dumps; for
he was a quarter of an hour without
saying any thing. You see he
was much given to silence) “If I did
not imagine it your hate that only
study’d an Excuse, I shou’d wait with B6v 12
with a great deal of satisfaction,
till you were pleas’d to make me
happy: But as it is, I shall dye a
thousand times with fear that
some other more happy in your inclinations
than I, will Rob me of
you for ever.”
He said in fine, abundance
of fine things to perswade
me to engage my self to him; but
I wou’d not consent to it; and all
i cou’d say to him, was as little
prevalent to make him desist his
Suit. He wou’d wait the Patriarchs
Prentiship rather than lose his Angel:
wou’d it not be a sad business
if he should lose her after all? But
I’m afraid he’s like, for her thoughts
cannot be brought so low; they
towre a little above his Shop, perhaps
too high for her Fortune; but
she’s something too young to consisider
that, or to prefer her interest
to her Humour. But to go on with
my Story, my Mother was well
enough satisfied to have the Match
delay’d; so that I thought I had nothing B7r 13
nothing to do for a year or two,
but to wish some accident might intervene
to hinder it. But it was
not long before a Servant we had
in the House found me other Employment;
I had complain’d of some
Negligences she had been guilty of,
when my Mother was out of Town,
which were occasion’d by a fondness
she had for one that waited upon
Lycidon: Upon which she had
like to be turn’d away, and being
of a revengeful Spirit, she cou’d
never forgive it: She had observ’d
that Licydon often gave me, and I
him Letters in private; for when he
had no other opportunity, he us’d
to give me those he sent, or Receiv’d
from his Mistress, as we were
taking leave, when I conducted him
to the Door; which I often did,
whilst my mother was entertaining
other Company; and I return’d
’em when I saw him again. This
malicious Wench hoping to find
something in ’em that might prejudicedice B7v 14
me, told Licydons Man (over
whom it seems she had a great Influence)
that she heard his Master
was a great Poet, and that she had
a great mind to see some of his
Works, if he cou’d contrive to let
her into his Closet when he was abroad:
The Servant who suspected
nothing, promis’d her he wou’d
let her know the first time his Master
left his Key, which he very seldom
did. He kept his Word with her,
and after she had look’d over all
his Papers, at last she found that
Letter which I spoke of at the beginning.
She knew my hand well
enough, and no doubt with Joy,
put it into her Pocket, without being
perceiv’d by the Fellow; and
to lose no time, went presently to
Berontus; to whom she said, That
she was extreamly concern’d to see
him deceiv’d by two that he rely’d
so much upon, as her young Mistress
and Licydon: and therefore she
cou’d not forbear telling him, that she B8r 15
she had discover’d an Intreague between
’em, and that they were so
familiar, that if they were not
Married already, she was sure, they
wou’d be very suddenly; with abundance
of Circumstances of her
own Invention, to make the Story
more plausible. He did not believe
her at first; but when she show’d
him the Letter it put him beyond
doubt; so that after he had given
her his Word, whatever Measures
he took, not to discover her, she
went away very well pleas’d, that
she had depriv’d me of a Husband,
and receiv’d a good Reward for it.
Berontus did not give his Rage and
Grief leave to abate; but in the
height of both Writ a Letter to Licydon,
and another to me. You
can’t imagine how much I was surpriz’d
when I Read it, and found
it was a Challenge, (for in that
confusion he had mistaken the Direction)
to one whom he accus’d
of betraying him in what was dearer B8v 16
dearer to him than his Life: I cou’d
not guess who it was design’d for,
till Licydon came in, and show’d
me a Letter he had just receiv’d,
which he believ’d was for me, and
desir’d me to tell him who that happy
Man was Berontus complain’d so
much of. I saw plainly then, he
was Jealous of Licydon; but was
not able to Divine the Cause: He
gave me the Letter which contain’d
these Words.

“Wou’d to Heaven you had told me
Truth, when you said you were too
young to think of Love; you have
thought of it too much Olinda, for
my quiet; but you were born to Torment
me. It is my Fate, why do I
complain of you? Pity me, if I fall
by my happy Rivals Hand, and if you
can forgive me if I survive him.
This is the last time I design to trouble
you: I wish he may be more faithful to
you then he has been to me: Adieu Madam,
pity the unfortunate Berontus.”

The B9r 17

The Letter seem’d so full of distraction,
that I cou’d not chuse but
pity him; for I really thought him
Mad: But I did not think fit to
shew Licydon that which was design’d
for him. When he was gone
I sent for Berontus, but he refus’d
to come, and ’twas with much ado
after three or four times sending he
was prevail’d with. I told him by
what means I had seen both his Letters;
but that they appear’d so
great Mysteries to me, that I sent
for him to explain ’em. ’Twas long
before he wou’d let me know the
Cause of his suspicions; but I was
so importunate, that at last he
show’d me the Love Letter I had
Writ to Licydon: “Can I have a
greater Proof than this,”
says he?
“I confess,” reply’d I, “you have Reason
to think as you do; but you
are very much deceiv’d;”
and then
I told him upon what occasion it
was Writ: I saw very well he did
not believe me, and I knew not how to B9v 18
to convince him, unless I cou’d find
Licydon’s Answer, which at least
wou’d clear him. I found it by
good Fortune and brought it to
Berontus. “Read this,” said I, “and
you’ll see whether it be true, that
I Writ to Licydon in earnest: You
have nothing to accuse him of.”

After he had Read it, he cry’d out
in a Violent manner, “I have wrong’d
the Innocent Olinda, and I deserve
to be hated by her for ever.”
“Be not
so Transported”
I return’d coldly enough,
“I may love Licydon, tho he
be so indifferent:”
“The Postscript
fully clears you,”
Reply’d Berontus,
“and makes me not dare to ask you
to forgive me;”
upon which I took
it, and Read these Words, which I
had quite forgot. “I did not think
one cou’d Write so prettily of Love,
and be so insensible of it; how Happy
wou’d that Man be, that shou’d receive
such a one dictated by your Heart, as
well as Hand.”
“I’m sure none cou’d
Return such an Answer to Olinda.”
This B10r 19
This Complement did me so much
kindness, that one wou’d think I
shou’d be a better Friend to ’em
than you know I am. Berontus left
me almost as Angry at himself, as
he was before at us; and did not
come near me, for some time after.
When I told Licydon what had past
between us, he was amaz’d: He
Examin’d his Man, who had been
in the Chamber, who confess’d the
Truth; and our Servant when she
was Tax’d with it, hardly deny’d
it, and thus the whole Matter was
discover’d; which had it not been
for a happy mistake, had probably
cost one, or both of them, their
Lives; and me my Honour. Two
days after Licydon was Married, and
so our acquaintance broke off; for
tho’ his Wife came to see me and
often press’d me to keep a correspondence
with her; I never did,
for I knew she had been very Jealous
of me before she Marry’d,
and I wou’d not hazard the reviving it. B10v 20
it. Berontus easily obtain’d his pardon
of me (for you know I’m very
good Natur’d) and so he continu’d
to Visit me, taking all the pains he
cou’d to please me, without any
thing remarkable happening, till
three Months after, his Elder Brother
who had been at his Travels,
and was Reported to be dead, return’d;
so that he was no longer
able to keep the Conditions he had
made with my Mother; for he had
nothing to live upon but his Trade;
which I afterwards heard he neglected
very much, and took to that
usual Remedy of Cares, drinking:
He said it was to cure his Grief for
the loss of his Mistress, and truly
that is to be lamented, when the
loss of a good Estate is the Cause
of it. However he is comforted
for both now, and Married to a
Woman with a great Fortune. I
was very glad to be rid of my Lover,
tho I was sorry ’twas by his
misfortune. Thus Cleander you have B11r 21
have an Account of the first Adventures
of my Life; which made
me early know some uneasie hours:
By the next Post I’ll acquaint you
with a Catalogue of Lovers (that
is, they were my En passant, in taking
their Rounds, and serv’d better
to divert me than the most Romantick
Constancy, without giving
themselves, or me any trouble)
but it’s indeed time to make an end.
Adieu my Friend, think of me always,
and Write as often as you
can to Olinda.

Letter II.

To proceed in Order in my Relation,
I must begin with one,
who in Respect of his years as well
as the time in which I knew him,
demands the Pre-eminence. He
was a Dutch Coll. about threescore;
don’t you think one of his Country B11v 22
Country and Years will make a
pretty Lover? But Old as he was,
he had a Mistress in the House with
him. I was younger than she, and
I believe I may say, without Vanity,
I had some other Advantages
over her; so that the Old Spark
had a Months mind to me; and I,
partly to plague her, and partly to
divert my self, receiv’d all his Addresses
with a great deal of complaisance.
I cou’d perceive her
fret within her self, tho she durst
not shew it. She was in great Fear
of losing him; for the Man’s Mony
had such Charms, as atton’d for
his want of ’em, tho he was ugliness
in perfection; (if that ben’t
Nonsence) and ’twas the best Jest
in the World to me, to see him
squint an Amorous Glance upon
me, with one Eye, whilst t’other
was watching whether she took
Notice of him; for we Lodg’d in
one House together; so that I
cou’d not avoid often being with them B12r 23
them both, nor indeed did I endeavour
it; for I took a malicious pleasure
in Laughing at their Follies:
Since there’s nothing so ridiculous
as an Antiquated Lover, who has
the Vanity to believe he is belov’d,
and a Jealous Woman, who has not
Discretion enough to hide it. That
I might be sufficiently entertain’d
with both, one day I began a Discourse
of Young and Old Lovers,
preferring the last as more Constant,
more Fond, and more Solid than
the first: He Smil’d, and took me
by the Hand, and gave me a thousand
Commendations for the Wisdom
of my choice; Nay, and so
far forgot himself, that he apply’d
it to himself, and said such passionate
things, as wou’d have been
extravagant from a young Fellow.
She with a great deal of Heat contradicted
all I had said, and told
all the impertinences and inconveniences
one find in an Old Man
(which she experimentally knew better B12v 24
better than I) without considering
how far it touch’d him, she was so
earnest against me. This made him
so Angry, and her so out of Countenance
when she Reflected so upon
what she had said, that I was
never better diverted: She did not
know what Excuse to make for her
self, and in fine the dispute grew so
high, that at last they parted. Upon
this the Coll. was hotter upon
me than ever; he pester’d me continually
with his Visits, and the
Brute so little understood my Raillery,
that he pretended an Interest
in me, and wou’d check me when
he saw any body younger than himself
with me; but I gave him such
Answers, that he did not know
what to make of me. When he
had Orders for Flanders he told me
I must prepare my self to go with
him, and I shou’d live as great and
happy as a Queen; I said I wou’d
go with all my heart upon Condition
his Son shou’d be always with us: C1r 25
us: The Old Man started, “my Son
Child, what wou’d you do with
“I think he is fitter company
for me than you,”
says I, and so I
left him, so asham’d that he shun’d
seeing me ever after. He e’ne went
to Flanders without me, and vow’d,
young as he was, he wou’d never
have any thing to with Woman
more. Thus I was rid of my Old
Impertinent, whose place was soon
supply’d by one of those gay youths
who never wait for the slow Gifts
of pity, but Ravish little Favours
from us, as if they were their due;
who make it impossible for us to
think it a Crime to give what they
ask with so much boldness; and
who are always endeavouring to
divert her they design to please.
He Courted me with Balls, Musick,
and Entertainments, and in the
midst of ’em wou’d now and then
whisper some pretty Love Maggots.
I was first acquainted with him at
a Relations of mine at Greenwich: C He C1v 26
He was an Officer in the Army,
and was then in the Camp upon
Black-Heath; and being very well
known in the House where I was,
he came often there. He had heard
several things of me to my Advantage;
(for Fame generally flatters or
detracts) as, that I sung well, was
Handsom, and so forth: And I was
told, that he was very well accomplish’d,
and the Neatest, Prettiest,
Gentilest young fellow that was to
be seen in the whole Army: So
that we had both a great desire to
see one another, and were very well
acquainted the first time we met:
He told me he had a violent Passion
for me, and he did not doubt
but I had a little Love for him;
he came to see me every day whilst
I was there; carried me to all the
Diversions that were to be had about
the Country; and when I was going
to London, he told me he wou’d
soon follow me: “But as soon as you
come to Town, Faith Olinda, you shall C2r 27
shall Write to me, as you hope to
see me again; for I can’t live without
hearing you Arriv’d safe.”
So I
Writ a thousand little mad things,
and he Answer’d me at the same
Rate, only a great deal of Airy
Love mingled with it. The following
Week he came to see me,
and from that day I was never suffer’d
to rest for one frolick or other:
All the time he staid, I liv’d a pleasant
sort of a Life, till he went to
Fight abroad, and got two or three
new Mistresses to divert; for those
sort of Men never remember the
Absent; their Love never enters
the Heart, nor do they often gain
ours; they seldom fail to please in
deed, and they force us to think of
’em sometimes whether we will or
not; but they are neither Discreet,
nor Constant enough to go any further:
I suppose he forgot me as
soon as he left me, and I was not
much behind hand with him. After
he was gone, I had scarce a C2 breath- C2v 28
breathing time before another of his
Profession, more serious and more
designing, succeeded him: He had
a good Estate, and pass’d in the
World for a Man of Honour, and
therefore was Receiv’d by my Mother
favourably enough. I neither
lik’d, no dislik’d him; but treated
him with Civility, till I found out
that his designs were not very Honourable;
and then I thought it
time to alter my Behaviour: I forbid
him to see me, and when he
came to our Lodgings, I was deny’d
to him, thô he knew I was at
home; upon which he left off coming,
and when some of his Comrades
ask’d him the Reason, he told
them, he knew me too well, and
that he did not think a Creature so
young cou’d be so Lew’d. Observe,
my Friend, how unhappy Women
are, who are thus expos’d to lose
either their Virtue, or their Honor;
if I had comply’d with him, perhaps
none wou’d have been more careful C3r 29
careful of my Fame than he: But
how much my Choice is to be prefer’d,
none but those who have experienc’d
the unexpressible satisfaction
it gives can know. I heard of it
with a great deal of indifference,
and did not so much as hate the
Author of the scandal. The next
in waiting was a French Beaux: He
had a great stock of Wit, but more
Vanity; a mighty Flatterer, and
one who took much pains to perswade
credulous Women that he
lov’d ’em; and if he succeeded he
always forsook ’em, and sometimes
gratify’d his Vanity to their Cost,
who had been indiscreet enough to
give him occasion. He laid his
Baits to catch me, he Vow’d, and
Swore, and Danc’d, and Sung
eternally by turns; but I was too
wary to be caught, thô he made
me a hundred Protestations, I was
the only Woman he ever did, or
ever cou’d Love; follow’d me
where ever I went, and in spight of C3 the C3v 30
the greatest Rigour I cou’d use,
wou’d not forbear haunting me.
I did not know how to free my self
from the Impertinence of this Fop;
but I thought if I cou’d convince
him of one Act of Inconstancy, he
wou’d not have the Confidence to
trouble me any more: I had many
contrivances in Order to it, but at
last I fix’d upon one that was probable
enough to take with one of
his Humour. I Writ a Letter (disguising
my Hand) as from a Woman
extreamly in Love with him,
and desir’d him to tell me sincerely
whither he was engag’d or not;
for I was too just to rob any Woman
of his Heart, and too Nice
to be content with a part of it. I
told him if he was free, I wou’d
meet him, the next day at the Bird-
Cage in the Park: He sent a very
obliging Answer to the unknown
Lady; said, he was passionately in
Love with her Wit; that if her
Beauty were Answerable, he must be C4r 31
be undone; however ’twould be
such a pleasing Ruin, that he waited
with the highest impatience for
the appointed hour, when he might
assure her by word of Mouth, his
Heart was wholly at her dispose.
Just as I had done Reading this Letter
he came in, and for a Proof of
his Constancy, shew’d me that
which I had sent him, with another
which he said was the Answer he
design’d to send; wherein he told
her, he was already so deeply in
Love, ’twas impossible for him to
change; with abundance of fine
things of the Person he Lov’d.
This was good sport for me, and I
had much ado to keep my Countenance;
I us’d all my Rhetorick to
perswade him to stay with me; a
thing I had never desir’d of him before,
and now ’twas in vain: He pretended
earnest business, and went
long before the hour, he was so very
impatient. When he was gone, I
chang’d my Clothes, took a Lady C4 with C4v 32
with me, who was Privy to the Affair,
and went to the aforesaid Place.
We were in Masks, and it being
duskish, he did not know us; but after
I had banter’d him for some
time, I discovered my self: I can’t
describe to you the different Passions
that affected him; sometimes
he was in a Rage with me for putting
such a Deceit upon him, sometimes
he would frame weak Excuses
for what he had done, and sometimes
he was not able to speak at all
for Grief, that he was not only disappointed
of a New Mistress, but
had lost all hopes of gaining one he
had Courted so long, with so much
assiduity. I went home, as well
pleas’d with losing one, as I have
sometimes been, with making a
Conquest, in full hopes I shou’d be
plagued with him no more, and I
was not deceiv’d. You see, Cleander,
what a Miscellany of Lovers, if I
may call ’em so, I have had all of
different humours, but none that had C5r 33
had found out the Secret to please
me: They have done enough if
they contribute any thing to your
diversion, and made a sufficient
Recompence for all their former
Impertinence to

Your faithful Friend


Letter III.

My Friend,

The Reflections you made upon
my two last, are so Just,
so Profitable, and so Pleasant, that
through them I see the Author’s
great Capacity, that can make so
good use of such little things; and
while I Read, bless my kind Fate
that made you my Friend, when
the Good and Wise are so scarce; C5 and C5v 34
and wonder how so particular a
Blessing came to be my Lot;
which more than doubly satisfies
for all I suffer’d by Clarinda’s falseness.
I believe you think it strange
I never mention’d her, in any of
the Passages of my Life, since it
was before many that I have told
you of, that I knew and lov’d her:
But I cou’d not have Nam’d her
without some Mark of kindness,
that I either show’d, or receiv’d
from her, which I wou’d willingly
forget, and cou’d not now speak of
her, but when I put your Friendship
in compensation with her Ingratitude.
But since I am fall’n
upon this Subject, I will let you
know a little better than you do,
the only Woman that I ever trusted,
not with any Secret, for you
see I then had none of consequence;
but with my Love, and in that she
betray’d me. Her Sister often told
me, she was sorry to see so sincere a
Friendship bestow’d upon one that knew C6r 35
knew so little how to Value it;
that Clarinda was the same to all,
which she pretended to be only for
me: That she was always fondest
of her new acquaintance, and
wou’d Sacrifice, or Ridicule the Old,
the better to Caress ’em: But I
knew there had been some Quarrels
betwixt them, and therefore wou’d
not believe it, till I found it too
true; and then my partiality for
her, chang’d into as great an Error
on the other hand, for I involv’d
the whole Sex in her Faults, and
with Aristotle (I hope one may condemn
ones self with Aristotle) Repented
that I had ever Trusted a
Woman. I don’t know whether I
forgot I was one, or whither I had
the Vanity to think my self more
perfect than the rest; but I resolv’d
none of the Sex was capable of
Friendship; and continu’d in that
Opinion till, I knew Ambrisia who
(if one may judge by the Rule of
Contraries, convinces me of injustice) for C6v 36
for she is just Clarinda’s Antipodes.
Clarinda loves new Faces, and professes
a particular kindness at first
sight; Ambrisia is a long time before
she goes beyond Civility, and never
does but to those whom she has
well observ’d, and found ’em Worthy:
Clarinda will Rail at one Friend
to engage another: Ambrisia can’t
hear an innocent person, thô her Enemy,
accus’d without defending
’em: Clarinda will be one day fond
to extravagance, and the next as
indifferent for the same person: Ambrisia
is always the same, and where
once she loves, she never changes:
Clarinda is easily Angry: Ambrisia
is perhaps too mild. Clarinda has
Wit indeed, but ’tis not temper’d
by Judgment, so that it makes her
often do, and say a hundred things
that call her discretion in question:
Ambrisia has a Solid and piercing
Judgment, one wou’d think all she
says was the Result of premeditation,
she speaks such Wise and such sur- C7r 37
surprizing things, and yet her Answers
are so ready, that one wou’d Swear
she did not think at all; her Actions
are always most regular; I believe
she never cou’d accuse her self
of an imprudent one. This is a
true and unprejuc’d Character of
both; and if you wonder how I
cou’d love a Woman with such gross
Faults, I must tell you, some of ’em
I did not know then; some I excus’d,
for I did not expect perfection,
and some my partial kindness
made me cover with the Name of
some Neighbouring Virtue. You
know, Ambrisia has as great advantages
of Clarinda in Body as in
Mind: I have often heard you
praise her outward Beauty, and now
I have shew’d you the Beauties of
her Soul, thô they are far greater
than I can express, give me leave
to wish her yours. Forgive me if
I mingle a little self-Interest in my
wishes for you, I can’t resist a
thought of joy for the hopes of finding C7v 38
finding two Noble Friends in one,
by such a happy Union: Think of
it Cleander; you only deserve one
another. I know you will bid me
take your Advice, and shew you
the way; but I shall tell you things
that will convince you, my Refusal
is reasonable. I was just fifteen
years Old when a particular Friend
of my Mothers buried her Husband;
whose Grief was so great, that my
Mother durst hardly leave her; she
staid with her Night and Day, and
manag’d all her Affairs for her. She
went to Cloridon’s, who had had a
Friendship for the Deceas’d; (for
they were forc’d to make use of
that, and his Authority in a business,
wherein the Widow had lik’d
to be wrong’d) but Men of his
Quality are not always at Leisure,
and must be waited on; so that thô
my Mother went two or three
times, she did not see him, and
having other Affairs of her own,
and her Friends in hand, besides being C8r 39
being oblig’d to be much with her,
she cou’d not Watch his Hours:
However ’twas a thing of too great
consequence to be neglected: So
she Writ a Letter to him, and Order’d
me to carry it, and to deliver
it into his own Hand. I went often
to his Lodgings before I cou’d
speak with him, and carry’d Clarinda
with me: At last I was appointed
an hour when I shou’d certainly
meet with him, and she happen’d
to be so engag’d, she cou’d not possibly
go with me. I knew no body
else I cou’d use so much freedom
with, and was forc’d to go alone.
I did not wait long before I was admitted,
and he approach’d me with
that awful Majesty which is peculiar
to him; and that commands
respect from all that see him. Whilst
he held the Letter I gave him, I
look’d at him sometimes; but still
I met his Eyes, so that I cou’d not
view him well, thô I saw enough
to think him the Charmingst Man in C8v 40
in the World: He ask’d my Name,
and whose Daughter I was? which
when I told him, he said he knew
my Father very well; that he was
a Worthy Man, and that for his
sake he wou’d do any thing for me
that lay within his Power. I
thank’d him thô I took it for a
Courtiers Complement, and desir’d
an Answer to the business I came
about. “I will go my self instantly,”
says he, “to see what can be done in
it, and give you an Account of it in
the Afternoon; but there’s so much
Company at my Lodgings, that ’tis not
a convenient place for you: Can’t you
come somewhere else?”
“Yes my Lord,”
says I, very innocently, “where you
“If you will be in a Hackney
Coach then, at Five a Clock by Covent-
Church, I will come to you,
and let you know what I can do for
your Friend.”
I told him I wou’d,
and went away very well satisfy’d
with him, for I had no apprehensions
of any design, from a Man of his C9r 41
his Character. You know all the
World thinks him the fondest Husband
upon Earth, and that he never
had a thought of any Woman
but his Wife, since he Marry’d her:
This made me secure, and I did not
fail to go at the appointed hour.
My Mother knew nothing of it till
afterwards; for I did not see her
that day. When he came to me,
he told me, what he had done; inform’d
himself of some things that
were necessary for him to know,
that Related to the business, and assur’d
me, he wou’d do the Widow
Justice. Then he renew’d his Promise
to me with Protestations, that
I shou’d command him as far as his
Authority or Interest cou’d go;
and beg’d me to make use of him
either for my Relations, or my self
when ever I had occasion. After
he had made me some Speeches of
my Wit and Beauty, we parted, and as
soon as I saw my Mother, I told
her all that pass’d between us. She was C9v 42
was extreamly pleas’d to have so
great a Man her Friend; especially
one that she had no Reason to suspect
of any ill Design, since he had
taken no advantage of so favourable
an opportunity as I had given
him to discover himself, if he had
any; nor had not so much as desir’d
to continue the Correspondence.
The next day the business was concluded
more to our satisfaction than
was expected. Sometime after this,
a Gentleman of my Mothers acquaintance
told her, that he had a
mind for a Commission in the Army,
and that he wou’d give a considerable
sum of Mony to any Body
that wou’d procure it. My Mother
said, she’d try her Interest, and
made me Write to Cloridon about it.
He sent me an obliging Answer,
and desir’d to see me at the same
Place where we met before, that I
might give him an exact Account
of the person I recommended, and
Answer some Questions about him more C10r 43
more particularly than I cou’d do
by Writing. I did so in the first
part of our Conversation; and then
he begun to talk of the many ills
that Attend greatness, of which he
said, Flattery was the Chief; for it
was the greatest Unhappiness to be
sooth’d in ones Faults: “But Olinda,”
continu’d he, “in you I see all that Sincerity
and Ingenuity that is requisite
for a Friend, and I shou’d think my
self very Happy, if you wou’d let me
see you sometimes; if you wou’d tell me
of my Faults, and what the World
says of me.”
“You Honour me too
much my lord,”
says I, “but you
have taken such care to make all
Virtues your own, that there’s no
Room left for Flattery, or Correction.”
To be short, after a great
many Compliments of this Nature
he told me, ’twou’d be an Act of so
great goodness, That he was sure
I cou’d not deny him. “But what
will the World think,”
says I, “of
such private Meetings?”
“If neither you, C10v 44
you, nor I, tell it, it won’t be known,”

says he, “as it should, if I came to
Visit you: So that I may have the
same Innocent Pleasure of seeing you,
which you wou’d not deny me in Publick,
without making any Noise: And
since I assure you I have only a Friendship
for you, it can’t shock your Virtue.”

I neither Granted, nor Deny’d him
his Request; for I did not know
whither I shou’d do the First, and I
cou’d not Resolve to do the last;
both because it might be a hindrance
to our business, and because
I was very well pleas’d with his
Conversation. Nothing cou’d be
more agreeable; he is a Man of as
much sense, and as Great Address,
as any I ever knew: But what is
more to be commended and wondred
at in a Statesman? he never
promis’d any thing that he did not
perform. He gave me his Word
for the Commission I desir’d; appointed
me a day when I shou’d
meet him, to receive it; and kept it C11r 45
it punctually. These were such
great Obligations, that I cou’d not
but have some acknowledgments
for ’em. There was nothing talk’d
of in our House, but Cloridon’s Generosity;
and about that time, all
the Town Rung of some great Actions
he had then perform’d: So
that all things Contributed to encrease
my Esteem of him. I Writ
him a Letter of Thanks, and he
told me in his Answer, that he desir’d
no other Recompence for all
he cou’d do for me, but to see me
sometimes. I consider’d, that there
was no danger in seeing a Man,
that was so great a Lover of his
Lady; and that profess’d only a
Friendship for me: That if ever he
shou’d change, I cou’d easily forbear
it, and that whatever happen’d,
my Virtue was a sufficient
Guard. So I consented to it, without
letting my Mother know any
thing of it. But I must delay telling
you what these secret Meetingsings C11v 46
produc’d; for time and Paper
fails me, and will scarce give me
leave to assure you that I am

Your tenderest Friend,


Letter IV.

You wou’d pity rather than
chide me, Cleander, if you
knew the Cause of my not Writing
to you all this while. I have
not been one moment alone for
this Fortnight past, but condemn’d
to entertain a mix’d Company, all
of different Humours, different
ways of Living, and of Conversing;
so that ’twas almost impossible to
please one without Contradicting
anothers Humour. You may judge
how uneasie this was to me; for I’ve C12r 47
I’ve often told you, I had rather be
all my Life alone, than with a Company
that is not chosen: That I
sometimes prefer Solitude even to
the best, and that I had now retir’d
to avoid the World: But I find one
never enjoys any thing without disturbance
that one places one’s happiness
in; and I was to blame, to
expect a singular Fate shou’d be
cut out for me. But whatever Accident
deprives me of any thing
else I Love, I can never be unfortunate;
if Cleander continues to be
my Friend. You may Remember
I broke off my last, where I had
Resolv’d to see Cloridon, as he desir’d.
We met as often as we cou’d,
extreamly to both our satisfactions:
He told me all his little uneasinesses,
and had so great a Confidence
in me, that he discover’d some Intreagues
of State to me, that are
yet unknown to some that think
they are not strangers to the most
secret transactions of the Court; and C12v 48
and he never undertook any of his
own Affairs of greatest moment
without asking my Advice. Thus
we liv’d for two Months, and nothing
pass’d that gave me Reason to
Repent an Action, that was not ill
in it self; but might be so by the
Consequences of it, till one day,
when he had been telling me several
things which concern’d him
nearly: “But there’s one Secret,” says
he, “Olinda, that I have never told
you yet, tho’ it takes up all my Heart;
but ’tis that I believe you know it too
well already.”
I said, I could not so
much as guess at it. “What, Olinda
interrupted, is it possible you shou’d be
be Ignorant, That I am the most in
Love of any Man in the World? How
cou’d you imagine, I that knew you so
well, cou’d have only a Cold Respect
or Friendship for you? No, no, Olinda,
I Love you; I love you Ardently;
I cannot live unless you give me leave
to tell you so; and to hope that you will
one day return it.”
I was so amaz’d at D1r 49
at this Discourse, I did not know
what to Answer: It vex’d me to be
oblig’d to alter my way of Living
with him; but I did not find my
self so Angry at his Love as I ought.
However I disguis’d my thoughts,
and put on all the Severity that is
needful in such Cases. “I have more
Reason to be displeas’d with such a
Declaration from you my Lord,”

said I, “than any other: You that
say you knew me so well; What
have you seen in me to Encourage
it? Have I ever given you occasion
to suspect my Virtue? Or is it
that you are tir’d with my Conversation,
and therefore take this
most effectual means to be freed
from it?”
“Inhumane Fair!” said he,
“Must you hate me because I love you?
can you Resolve not to let me see you,
only because you know I desir’d it more
than before?”
In short, he said the
most passionate things that a Lover
can imagine, and tho I found he
mov’d my Heart too much, I dissembledD sembled D1v 50
well enough to hide it from
him. Nothing he said, cou’d prevail
with me to see him, and I hop’d
Absence wou’d help me to forget
him. He Writ many melancholy
Letters to me, telling me all the
Court took Notice of his Grief;
that it would shortly be his Death,
if I wou’d not see him; and beg’d
me to live with him as I had done,
and he wou’d never speak to me of
his Love. But still I refus’d, tho
unwillingly. I was Angry at my
self for thinking of him, and for
being pleas’d, when some told in
Company where I was, that he had
been so out of Humour for some
time, that no Body durst speak to
him of business. I lov’d to think
it was for me, and ask’d a hundred
Questions about him. But now the
Publick Affairs oblig’d him to go to
Flanders, where he perform’d Actions
Worthy of himself. His Valour,
Generosity, and Liberality were
talk’d of every where; which still more D2r 51
more and more engag’d me. I cou’d
not but have some inclination for
so fine a Man, when I consider’d
that he lov’d me too: However I
believ’d I had only that Esteem for
him which I thought due to his
Merit, and that Gratitude which
the Obligations I had to him requir’d.
But I grew insensibly more
Melancholy than Usual. One Evening
that my Mother and I were
taking a serious Walk by the Canal
in St. James’s Park, a Gentleman of
her Country, and Acquaintance,
seeing us at a distance, came to bear
us Company: The Air being pretty
Cool, we wore our Masks, and
after we had made two or three
Turns, he saw a Friend of his, of
the same Nation coming towards
us. “That,” says he, “is Antonio Son
my Lord――He is a very well
Accomplish’d Gentleman, and has a
good Estate, I wish he were Married to
“I know the Family, and
have heard of him,”
Replyed my Mother,D2 ther D2v 52
“I should not dislike the Match.”
By this time he was come up to us,
and after having beg’d Pardon for
intruding, and leave to Walk with
us, he turn’d of my side. He had
not seen my Face, for it was duskish,
and I only made a Fashion of
lifting my Mask upon our first
Complements; but yet he said abundance
of fine things, of my
Beauty and Charms. After half an
Hours Conversation we were going
home, and they wou’d needs wait
upon us, but one of his Servants
met him, and told him he had been
looking for him a long time; some
Friends of his that were going out
of England the next day, staid for
him in the Mall, and must speak
with him immediately. So he left
us to the tothers Care, and went
back. The first time Antonio met
with his Friend, with whom he had
seen us; he told him he, was so
Charm’d with the Ladies Conversation,
that he could not Rest till he D3r 53
he saw her again. He Answer’d,
that he wou’d not like her if he had
seen her, but he wou’d carry him
to Visit one, whose Beauty wou’d
soon make him forget her. Antonio
said, that Wit and good Humour
had far greater Charms for
him, than the finest Face in the
World: “But that you mayn’t think
me obstinate, I will see her, upon
condition, that if her Eyes have
not that influence which you expect,
you will make me acquainted
with that Lady whose Wit has engag’d
me more perhaps than you
He promis’d he wou’d,
and so left him, and came to our
Lodging: He gave us an Account
of this Conversation, and desir’d
us to continue the Humour, and
not let him know we had seen him
before; for he fancy’d a great deal
of Pleasure in seeing me Rival my
self. We agreed to it, and when
they came, I entertain’d him with
the greatest simplicity imaginable: D3 For D3v 54
For you must know I had an Aversion
for him, which I cou’d give no
Reason for (that Passion is as unaccountable
as Love) and therefore
I was pleas’d he shou’d think me a
Fool, that he might not desire to
see me again. I was glad to perceive
he was uneasie in my Company,
and to make him the more so,
I talk’d very much, and very little
to the purpose. When he was gone,
he said to his Friend, “That if Olinda
had the other Ladies Soul, she
wou’d be a dangerous Person; but that
as she was, he cou’d no more Love her
than a fair Picture: That her Folly
had only made him the more eager to
see the unknown, and therefore he
claim’d his Promise.”
He Answer’d,
That he did not know what a second
sight of Olinda might do; but
however not to be worse than his
Word, he wou’d endeavour to contrive
a Meeting, but he cou’d not
promise he shou’d see her Face, for
she was very shy of that, as she had some D4r 55
some Reason. I was extreamly averse
to seeing him again, but this
Gentleman was so earnest with me,
and my Mother said so much
for it, (for she was desirous to have
us acquainted) that I was almost
forc’d to go; but Resolv’d not to
shew my Face. He carry’d Antonio
to the Park, at an appointed hour,
when he said, he heard the Lady
say she wou’d be there; and we
met ’em as if by chance. We
had a Conversation that wou’d have
been diverting enough, if my Hatred
for him had not made me think,
all he did or said disagreeable:
He told me I had been continually
in his thoughts since he saw me,
and that I had made such an Impression
in his Heart, as cou’d never
be alter’d. I said, he must have
a strange Opinion of my Credulity
if he thought I cou’d believe he
was in Love with a Woman he never
saw. “Ah Madam,” says he, “how
much more Charming are you Veil’d D4 as D4v 56
as you are, than a Beautiful Fool that
can only please ones Eyes: Such a one
as my Friend here made me Visit the
other day;”
and then he gave me a long
Description of Olinda, and Related
all her Discourse; which indeed was
very insipid.
We made some Satyrical
Remarks upon the poor Lady,
and then we parted, tho Antonio
would fain have gone home with
us; but we wou’d not permit him.
He was very importunate with his
Friend after this, to make him acquainted
with the unknown; but
he said, he durst not carry him to see
her without her leave; but he
wou’d try to gain it, if he continu’d
to desire it, after seeing Olinda
two or three times. He Reply’d, he
wou’d endure so much Mortification,
in hopes of so great a Blessing
as he promis’d him, but it
must be speedy, for a Lover was
impatient; and he shou’d be better
satisfied with seeing the Ugliest
Face he cou’d imagine; than with that D5r 57
that doubt he was in. In short, he
brought him to our Lodgings several
times, and still Acted the Foolish
part; but yet he confess’d to his
Friend, that I had mov’d him a little;
and he Refus’d to see me again for
fear he said, that he shou’d Love a
Woman that he cou’d not Esteem:
But one moments interview with
his other Charmer wou’d deprive
Olinda of that little part she had
gain’d of his Heart. A little after
some young Ladies that I knew,
were going to the Play, and beg’d
me to go with them: I was so
chagrin, I cou’d not think of any
diversions; but that made them
the more pressing, urging it wou’d
cure my Melancholy. So I went
with them, and the first sight I saw
was Antonio and his Friend. The
last seeing a Lady that was not
handsome with me; it came into
his thoughts to say, That was she
that Antonio was in Love with. He
gaz’d upon her with the greatest D5 eagerness D5v 58
eagerness imaginable, for a long
time; then turning to another that
was with them; “Which of those
says he, (pointing to her and
me) “do you like best?” “You amaze
me with that Question,”
Return’d he,
“for I think there is too great a Disparity
between them, to leave any
doubt that it must be Olinda;”
he knew my Name) “You wou’d
Alter your Opinion,”
says Antonio,
“if you knew them both as well as
I; for Olinda’s Beauty is more than
doubly Valu’d by the others Wit,
and solid Judgment.”
“But Olinda
has both,”
Reply’d the Gentleman;
“which I believe you can’t but know
if you have ever talk’d with, or
heard of her: For every body gives
her that Character.”
“They Wrong
her extreamly,”
says Antonio, “for she
is really Foolish to deserve Pity; I
never Convers’d with a Woman
whose Company was so tiresome;
she talks Eternally, and not one
Word of Common Sense.”
“’Tis impossiblepossible, D6r 59
your Friend here, who is a
very good Judge, has often said
such things of her to me, that I
must think you mistake the Woman.”
“I have been too often with
her for that,”
says Antonio, “you
may rather believe my Friend Jear’d
Then they question’d him about
it; but he Laugh’d and said,
He never saw a pretty Woman, but
he thought she had Wit enough;
so that they did not know what to
make of him; but Antonio who
wou’d not have been sorry to find
as much Wit in Olinda, as he imagin’d
in one, whose outside did not
please him so well; took some
pleasure in fancying himself deceiv’d;
thô when he consider’d it
seriously, he cou’d not believe it.
However he enquir’d diligently of all
that cou’d inform him any thing of
me, which did more confound him:
For they agreed, that I was far from
being a Fool, and he cou’d not
imagine to what end I shou’d pretendtend D6v 60
it: But was Resolv’d to find
it out. He came often to see us,
and still found me the same Fool,
till one day when we had a great
deal of Company, I was extreamly
put to it; for I did not care for
making my self ridiculous to so
many; and ’twas not good Manners
to be silent; however, I chose
rather to be Rude, than undeceive
him: I often made as if I did not
hear when I was spoke to; but I
was oblig’d to Answer, when one
said to me, “What’s the matter with
you Olinda, that you are Dumb of
a sudden? I’m sure you ought not;
for if it were pardonable in any
Woman to talk always, ’twould be
in you, that do it so well.”
I was
so confus’d at this Complement,
that came so male a propos; that I
believe I did not Answer it over
wisely; but as my ill Fate wou’d
have it, a Lady in the Company
took a Paper out of her Pocket,
saying, “I’m Resolv’d to make Olinda. speak D7r 61
speak whether she will or not; and I’le
leave you to judge, whether she does not
do it well in this Song.”
So she Read
one that I had Writ at her desire;
for she sung very well. I wou’d
fain have deny’d it, but I saw ’twas
in vain, for Wit will out one way
or other. Antonio seem’d overjoy’d
at this Discovery, and I was as
much Griev’d: For no Woman had
ever a greater desire to be thought
Wise, than I to be thought otherwise.
He came to see me every
day from that time, and when his
Friend told him, that he hop’d he
wou’d not dispute Olinda’s Power
any longer, since she had made him
so absolutely forget her, whom he
had once prefer’d so much to her;
he said, that ’twas not the same
Olinda whom he lov’d, for she had
chang’d her Soul: Nor had he forgot
the other, for ’twas that Wit,
that same turn of Thought and agreeable
Conversation which he
Admir’d in her, that he Ador’d in Olinda. D7v 62
Olinda. I don’t know, whether he
ever knew, that they were both one
person, but he did not desire to see
the other. When he discover’d his
Love to me, I entertain’d it so
coldly, that he cou’d have little
hopes, but that’s the last thing that
quite forsakes a Lover: And it did
not hinder him from persisting. He
watch’d his opportunity, when he
saw any thing had pleas’d me, but
still he was Repuls’d with greater
Scorn. I took delight when he
was with me, to Repeat often those
Words in Sophonisba; “The Forts impregnable
break up your Siege, there’s
one for you too mighty enter’d in; the
Haughtiest, Bravest, Foremost Man
on Earth.”
He Importun’d me extreamly
to know who this Happy
Man was; and Vow’d if I wou’d
tell him, he’d never mention his
Passion to me again; But I told
him, if there was such a Man, it
was the same Reason he shou’d
trouble me no more, as if he knew who D8r 63
who he was; since that cou’d make
no Alteration in my heart: And
perhaps it was a Secret; however,
that I wou’d hear no more of his
Love. He Begg’d and Sigh’d, and
Whin’d, an hour or two to make
me Reverse my Doom; but in vain;
and I was pleas’d that he believ’d
me in Love, thô I did not think it
my self. He continu’d to Visit
me without saying any thing of
particular to me; and without suspecting
the Object of my Love;
till my Mother and some Company
were talking of the great Actions
Cloridon had done; just as they
Nam’d him, he look’d at me, (by
chance it may be) but I being a
little Guilty, thought it was design’d,
Blush’d, look’d down, and
was confus’d, which made me blush
the more; and that was enough
to fix a Jealousie that had long possest
him, and that Watch’d for the
least shadow of Reason to place it
upon any particular person. I was so D8v 64
so asham’d of my self, that I was
not able to stay in the Room, and
when I was gone, Antonio kept up
the Discourse of Cloridon; begun
to praise his Person, and ask’d my
Mother what she thought of him.
She said, ’twas so long since she had
seen him, that she had almost forgot
him; but that her Daughter
had seen him lately, (and so told
upon what occasion) and that she
Extoll’d him for the finest Man she
ever saw. This confirm’d his Jealousie;
and the first Opportunity
he had with me, he told me some
News of Cloridon: And then ask’d
me if I had ever seen him, and how
I lik’d him. I knew nothing of
what my Mother had said; and
not being willing he shou’d believe
what I found he suspected; I Answer’d,
that I had seen him two or
three times in Walks at a distance:
That I though tt he was well enough,
but not so handsom as Fame had
made him. There needed no more to D9r 65
to remove all doubt that he was his
Rival; but how to know the particular
Terms we were in was the
difficulty; he knew his Character,
and thought me Virtuous, and
therefore cou’d not fear any thing
Criminal betwixt us; but he Resolv’d
to try if my Affections were
strongly engag’d; and to that end
he shew’d me a Letter from Flanders,
wherein it was told him, that
Cloridon (to the great Wonder of
all there) had a young Lady disguis’d
in Men’s Cloaths with him
all the Campagne, and that it was
discover’d by an Accident, which
he gave a large Account of. I
found my self seiz’d with an unusual
I knew not what, and did all
my endeavours to conceal it, but I
chang’d Colour two or three times,
and he having his Eyes continually
upon me, ’twas impossible but he
must observe my concern: However
he said nothing of it to me,
and I forc’d my self to talk of things indiffe- D9v 66
indifferent. As soon as I was alone,
I examin’d my self upon the matter.
Why shou’d this trouble me (said I
within my self) who wou’d not
entertain his Love, when it was
offer’d me, and I have often Resolv’d
never to see him, even when
I thought him Constant? How
comes it then, that I am so Griev’d
and Angry that he loves another?
And that I wish with such impatience
for his Return? In fine, I discover’d,
that what I had call’d Esteem
and Gratitude was Love;
and I was as much asham’d of the
Discovery, as if it had been known
to all the World. I fancy’d every
one that saw me, Read it in my
Eyes: And I hated my self. when
Jealousie would give me leave to
Reason, for my extravagant thoughts
and wishes: Mean while Antonio
wou’d not be Idle; he thought
this was the time for him; when
my Anger was Rais’d against Cloridon;
that that and my Obedience to D10r 67
to my Mother (if he cou’d get her
of his side, which he did not much
doubt) wou’d induce me to Marry
him; and then he did not fear, but
Reason and Duty wou’d overcome
my Love. Accordingly he had my
Mothers Consent, and entreated
her to intercede for him; but all
this was so far from having that effect
which he expected, that I hated
him the more: I was so unjust
as to look upon him as the Cause
of my Affliction, and I was so Angry
to see him take such Measures,
as I foresaw must make me very
uneasie, that I treated him ill,
even to Rudeness. But I will leave
him and Olinda equally unhappy,
till the next Post; and then give you
an Account of some Altetration in
their Affairs, which if it gave her
ease, I believe a little encreas’d his
pains. In the mean time believe,
that I remain

Your Friend,


Let- D10v 68

Letter V.

Tis not possible for you to
imagine much less for me,
to express what I endur’d, by my
own Jealousie, and Antonio’s Persecution:
Either of ’em wou’d have
been Grievous enough, but together
they were intolerable; and I
cou’d expect no Remedy, for I
knew not what I wou’d have. I
did not continue one moment in
the same Mind; I long’d for Cloridon’s
Return, and yet I Resolv’d not
to see him, thô when I thought that
perhaps he wou’d not desire it, I
almost dy’d with the Fear; but
that was soon over, for a Week after
Antonio had shew’d me the Letter
I mention’d in my last he came
to Town, and sent me a Letter the
first Night, fill’d with the tenderest
expressions of Love, and Vows,
that all his Fortune and Conquests abroad; D11r 69
abroad, cou’d not give him the
least Joy, whilst I remain’d inexorable;
and a hundred Entreaties to
see him once, and he shou’d dye
contented. This was some satisfaction
to me; but ’twas but imperfect:
Sometimes I believ’d all he
said, and presently after call’d him
false and Perjur’d; one while I Resolv’d
not to Answer him, and the
next Minute chang’d my mind;
but I was long before I cou’d fix
upon what to say. At last I Writ
with a great deal of Affected coldness,
only I gave him some dark
Hints of the Lady I had heard was
with him, which in his Answer he
said, he did not understand. He
Writ several times to me by private
Direction, which I had given him
when I believ’d he was only my
Friend; but a little after he sent to
our Lodgings, to tell me, that he
had a place at his disposal, which
if I had any Friend that wou’d accept
of it, was at my Service. My Mother D11v 70
Mother made me return him
thanks, and tell him, that I had a
Relation who was very fit for the
Employment, who shou’d wait upon
him, but he was not now in
Town. Cloridon, who desir’d no
better occasion, sent me Word, that
if I wou’d let him see me, he wou’d
tell me what was to be done in it;
for it was not a thing to be neglected,
because there were a great
many pretended to it, who might
get it by some other means, since it
did not wholly depend upon him.
I did not know what pretence to
make to hinder my going, for I
durst not tell my Mother of our
Meeting, without her knowledge:
And perhaps I was glad of the necessity
of seeing him, since it took
away the Fault, and serv’d for an
excuse, both to my self and him;
thô I was sorry to be forc’d to receive
new Obligations from him.
I never saw a Man in such an extasie
of Joy, as he appear’d to be in D12r 71
in at this enterview: He was
Speechless, and motionless for a
long time, and when he spoke ’twas
with so passionate and Charming
Words, and Air, that I was not
able to say those severe things
I design’d. I check’d him for obliging
me to see him, after I had
Refus’d him so often, that he might
know ’twas contrary to my Inclinations;
but (as he told me since)
he saw something in my Eyes which
made him think, I was not very
Angry with him: And when I explain’d
that part of my Letter which
hinted of the Lady, I did it in such
a manner, that he believ’d me Jealous.
At first he seem’d amaz’d
at what I told him, but afterwards
he deny’d it so Coldly, and took
so little pains to perswade me ’twas
false, that I was enrag’d; which
still discover’d my Weakness the
more. He found one pretence or
other, for delaying the business,
and for seeing me two or three times, D12v 72
times, and took pleasure in heightning
my Jealousie; till he thought,
if he trifled with me any longer,
he might lose me for ever: And
then he begun to protest seriously,
There was no such thing,
that it must be the Invention of
some particular Enemy of his; for
if I wou’d give my self the trouble
to enquire, I shou’d find it was no
general Report, and ’twere impossible
it shou’d not be known by every
Body, if what I had heard
was true. We easily believe what
we wish; and when I consider’d
from whom I had this Story, I
much doubted the truth of it: And
whil’st I saw him, and heard him
Swear, he had never had the least
inclination, for any other Woman
since he saw me, I was firmly perswaded
of his Fidelity; but my
suspicions return’d a little, as soon as
I left him. He told me, he cou’d
willingly forgive the Invention,
since it had occasion’d the discoveryvery E1r 73
of my Sentiments, which
were to his Advantage; but Reply’d,
that he need not much boast
of what my Weakness had Reveal’d;
for thô I cou’d not now
deny that my heart took too great
a part in what concern’d him, yet
since he knew it nothing shou’d
prevail with me to see him again;
and so I left him: But I cou’d not
forbear saying at parting, that he
had made me very unhappy, and
I wish’d I had never seen him, tho’
I condemn’d my self a hundred
times for it afterwards. I ask’d
of all I knew that had been in
Flanders, or had any Correspondence
there, if they heard of Cloridon’s
having a Lady disguis’d
with him; but they assur’d me,
there was not so much as the least
Report of it, which pretty well satisfied
me as to that: For every
Action of a Man of his Quality,
and in his Post are so narrowly observ’d,
that a thing so extraordinaryE nary E1v 74
cou’d not have been a secret;
but yet I was very desirous to
know upon what ground that Letter
was Writ to Antonio. However
I wou’d not examine him about
it, because I saw he suspected my
Love already, thô he had never
told me; but still continu’d
my most assidious Humble Servant
and Tormentor: And I think I
was not much in his Debt, for I
really treated the poor Man Barbarously.
My Mother gave him
all the opportunities she could, and
one day that she had some business
that wou’d keep her out till Night;
she left me at home, and gave Orders
that no body should be admitted
to see me but Antonio. I was
so vex’d at this Command, that I
Resolv’d to Revenge my self upon
him, and when I heard the Noise
of one coming up Stairs, I prepar’d
to give him the rudest Reception
I cou’d: I sate Reading with
my back towards the Door, and did E2r 75
did not Rise when he came in, till
I saw the shadow of a Man kneeling
by my side; and then without
looking towards him, I got up and
walk’d to the other end of the
Room. “What, Madam,” says he, “is
my Offence so great? Or do you hate me
so much, that you will not hear me
ask for Pardon?”
I found something
in the Voice soft and moving,
which struck me like one I was accustom’d
to be pleas’d with; and
turning about, I was amaz’d; “Good
cry’d I, “is it possible? Are you
Cloridon, or do I Dream? How
cou’d you come here?”
―― “How
could I forbear coming so long?”
he, “or how can I live a moment
from you? I must see you Olinda,
whatever I hazard, and since you
refus’d to let me a securer way, how
could I neglect so favourable an opportunity?”
Then I desir’d to know by
what means he knew, that I was
alone; and he told me, That since
the last time he saw me, and that E2 I E2v 76
I had been so good as to own my
self sensible of his Love, he had
had a hundred Plots and Contrivances
to see me; but found none
so feasible as that, which he had
put in Execution. He sent a Servant
whom he confided much in,
and Ordered him to try all means
possible to know my Motions
when I went out, and when I
was at home alone; and he had
found the way to gain the favour
of a Servant that belong’d to
the Landlord of the House, (no
doubt he see’d her well,) and she
had engag’d to be secret, and to
send him word when I was alone;
but she did not know for whom she
did this Service; only he had told
her, That ’twas a Man of Quality
that was in Love with me, and desired
to see me privately, to know
how I was affected towards him, before
he declared himself publickly.
He came to her that morning, and
she told him, my Mother was gone out, E3r 77
out, and that she heard her say, she
should not come home till Night; so
that if he would come with the Person
that was to see me, she would be
at the Door to conduct him to me:
When they came, she told them,
That a Gentleman that courted me
had been there just now, but she denied
that I was at home on purpose
to oblige him. I was angry that he
should take so little Care of my Reputation;
but he said, that it was
not at all in danger, for no body
knew of it but that Servant who
would not tell it for her own sake;
or if she did, she saw that ’twas all
without my Knowledge. That if I
would not give my Consent to see
him abroad he should do something
more extravagant that might expose
both me and him: But if I would,
he’d promise never to speak of his
Love to me. In fine, by Threatnings
and Intreaties, and my own
Inclination, I was prevail’d with,
after I had made him swear not to E3 mention E3v 78
mention his pretended Passion. Forgive
my Frailty, dear Cleander, it
was not possible for me to refuse the
Man I lov’d any thing that could
admit of excuse, and I found or
made Arguments enough to sooth
my Inclination, and persuade me it
was no Fault only to see him. I
hastned him away for fear he should
be seen with me, but he lingred on
for two or three hours, and just as
he was going I heard Antonio’s Voice
asking for me, so that he could not
go out without meeting him. I
was extreamly vex’d, but this was
no time to fret or chide. I desir’d
him to step into a Closet, which I
had in the Room; where I kept
my Books, and told him I wou’d
contrive a way to be rid of the other
quickly. When I had Lock’d
him in, I took my Hoods and
seem’d to be putting ’em on, in order
to go abroad, so that Antonio
cou’d not in good Manners stay;
but he desir’d, since he was so unhappyhappy E4r 79
as to be depriv’d of that satisfaction
he expected in my Company,
that I wou’d lend him some
Book to divert his Melancholy.
I told him, that he would have
found so little in my Company,
that he needed not much Mourn
for the loss of it: but as my ill
Fate wou’d have it, he was so pressing
to borrow a Book, that I knew
not how to refuse it; I turn’d the
Discourse and sat down, and said, I
had alter’d my Resolution and
wou’d stay at home. Antonio wonder’d
at this Mighty Favour, he
was so unus’d to receive any from
me, that he was Transported at it:
He thank’d me for it a hundred
times, and I believe presag’d no
little good Fortune for him from
such a Change, thô my way of entertaining
him, gave him no great
encouragement. If I shou’d give
you a particular Account of our
Conversation, ’twou’d be as impertinent
to you, as ’twas troublesome E4 to E4v 80
to me; I will only tell you, I never
pass’d an hour with half so much
pain as that, having for addition to
the usual uneasiness his Company
made me endure, that of the unseasonableness
of the time. Whilst I
was fretting at this unhappy Accident,
and fearing he wou’d not go
away till my Mother came home,
our Landlords Maid came to tell
me, there was one below wou’d
speak with me: I went down and
saw it was that Servant of Cloridon’s,
which he had spoke of to
me; he told me, that the King
had sent twice for his Lord, and
desir’d me to tell him, that he must
of necessity go presently, for the
business was of importance. This
was a new Vexation; and I staid
some time to deliberate what I
shou’d do, and at last, Resolv’d to say
I was sent for by a Lady that was
Sick, that so Antonio might be oblig’d
to leave me. But how was I
surpriz’d, when I return’d and found E5r 81
found Cloridon in the Room! I
needed not dissemble an astonishment,
for I was as much amaz’d to
see him there, as if I had not known
he was in the House. He advanc’d
towards me, with a Ceremonious
Bow, saying, “You have Reason Madam
to wonder, and to be Angry at
me? but when you know, that ’tis
the general Frailty of mankind that
brought me hither, your goodness sure
will pardon me: I mean Love, Madam,
Love which makes the Wisest
Men guilty of the greatest Irregularities.”
I blush’d at what he said, not
apprehending his design, and told
him his being there, and his Discourse
were both so mysterious to me,
that I did not know what to Answer
him. He said, he thought
himself oblig’d to tell the Truth,
since my Reputation wou’d be in
danger by concealing it: But first
he must beg me to pardon the Servant
of the House, and not to let
her Master know of it; for he havingE5 ving E5v 82
taken a fancy to her, had
wheedled her into a consent, to let
him come and see her, tho the
Wench was very honest: That our
Family being all abroad, she had
brought him into that Room, and
hearing me return’d, she had put
him into the Closet, believing I
wou’d go out again: But finding I
staid long, he had entertain’d himself
with my Books, and in removing
some had thrown down others,
the noise of which had made Antonio
open the Door; and since it
was his Fortune to be discover’d in
a foolish thing, he hop’d the Gentleman
and I, wou’d let it go no
further. We gave him our Word
for it; and when he was gone, we
both sate silent for a long time,
each expecting what t’other wou’d
say: at last he begun. “Cloridon
was hard put to it, to be forc’d to
discover such a secret; he that has
acquir’d the Reputation of Chast,
found out to be so little Nice, as to take E6r 83
take such pains, for one of so mean
Quality, and one that has not many
things to recommend her.”
have the Luck,”
said I, “to find out
Cloridon’s Intreagues, when no body
else knows any thing of ’em:
And he may thank his Good Stars
his secret falls into such hands; if
you’re as careful of this, as you’ve
been of that in Flanders, which no
body but you has ever heard of.”

“I shall certainly conceal it Madam,” reply’d
he, “for your Fame sake; for the
malicious World wou’d be apt to fancy
his thoughts were something highter
than a Dirty Wench, when he was
put into your Closet: But I’m to believe
what you please, and if you tell
me you never saw him before, but in
Walks at a distance, I won’t doubt of
“I am not much concern’d what
you, or any thinks of me,”
says I,
“my satisfaction does not depend
upon Opinion; and I shall be always
happy, as long as I am innocent;cent; E6v 84
whether you believe me so
or not. However I owe so much
to Truth, to assure you, that whatever
designs Cloridon had, I knew
no more of his coming here than
you did, and that I am very Angry
at him for it.”
“If you had not
told me so Madam, I shou’d it may be,
have thought you wou’d rather have
lent me a Book, than endur’d my Company
so long (which you always us’d to
avoid) but that you fear’d I should see
him, if you open’d the Closet; but I’m
very glad, you will have me interpret
your staying with me more to my advantage.”
I was vex’d he should
think it was to oblige him; and
since I found he was Master against
my Will, of the greatest part of
my Secret, I thought it best to
make him a Confidence of it, which
would prevent his Addresses to me,
and engage him to the greater Fidelity.
I told him then, all that was
betwixt us; and he gave me some
good Counsels, not to cherish a Love, E7r 85
Love, or entertain a Correspondence
that might in the end prove
dangerous considering his Circumstances;
but I was too far gone to
take ’em, and besides coming from
a Rival, I did not make much Reflection
upon ’em. Advices by an
interested Person, thô never so reasonable,
are not minded, or at
least are much suspected, especially
when they contradict the inclination
of the Advis’d. I did not tell
him, I had consented to see Cloridon,
because I resolv’d not to tell
him any thing, but what I could
not conceal. I did not see Antonio
in a Month after, but he sent often
to ask how we did, and said: “he
was very ill himself.”
He Writ once
to me, to tell me he was endeavouring
to overcome a Passion, which
he found was displeasing to me, and
which therefore must make him
very unhappy; and to beg me, if
he cou’d effect it, to accept him
as a Friend, and not continue that hatred E7v 86
hatred for him then, which I had
for my Lover. Mean while the
too Charming Cloridon and I met
together often: At first we entertain’d
one another with all the
News, and little Intreagues of the
Town; he put so entire a Confidence
in me, was so pleas’d to see
me, and so obliging to me, and
my Relations upon all Occasions,
that I then thought my self happy
to a degree that left no Room for
Wish; for he gave me the greatest
evidences of his Love, without
speaking of it to me, which was all
I cou’d desire from a Man, whose
Love I prefer’d to every thing but
Virtue; and who I cou’d not hear
talk of it without a Crime: But
how easily are we drawn in by such
steps as these, to things we had
made the strongest Resolutions against.
In some time he made
Complaints to me, and spoke of
his Passion in a third Person, so that
I might understand him, but I cou’d not E8r 87
not be angry with him; and I know
not how insensibly, and by degrees
I accustom’d my self to hear of his
Love: At first defending my self
against it, and chiding him for
breaking his Word; but his Excuses
seem’d to me stronger Reason
than my Accusations; and at last
I suffer’d it with Pleasure, and
without any Reluctance. Thus my
unwary Heart entangled it self
more and more, pleasing it self
with its own Folly, without looking
back or forward; happy for the
present on all sides, for now I was
no longer troubled with Antonio.
He after a Months absence came
to see me, and told me, he desir’d
nothing of me now but my Friendship,
and to convince me, he was
not my Lover, he would tell me a
secret in favour of Cloridon, if I
wou’d promise to forgive him; I
told him I wou’d, and then he gave
me that account which I have given
you, of his first suspecting my Love, E8v 88
Love, and how to try it, he had
feign’d that Letter which he shew’d
me; that he had resolv’d to undeceive
me, as soon as he had discover’d
what Sentiments I had for
him; but when he saw how it affected
me, Jealousie wou’d not give
him leave, and Love prompted him
to make use of it to his own advantage.
He added, That thô Love
had made him guilty of Tre achery
so much contrary to his Nature;
yet I shou’d always find him the
most sincere, and the most Faithful
of his Friends. Thô I believ’d
before that Story to be an invention,
you can’t imagine how much I
was pleased, to be sure of it now.
I easily pardon’d him, since I had
promis’d it, and since I thought
he deserv’d it, having told it voluntary.
From that time I receiv’d
him more favourably than I us’d to
do, and took some pleasure in his
Conversation, because he was the
only Man that knew of my Love, and E9r 89
and that I could talk freely of
Cloridon. But now my Mother
perceiv’d I had some more complaisance
than before, for Antonio; she
wonder’d he talk’d nothing of Marriage
to her, and told me her
thoughts, which put me upon new
contrivances, how I might shun
her Anger, and yet Antonio come
off with Honour. I found him
raise scruples against all the Methods
I could invent, and often he
ask’d me, if I design’d never to
Marry, and what Reasons I could
always give for not doing it; which
made me apprehend he was not alter’d
so much as he seem’d; and
fear I shou’d have some trouble in
this Affair, he had told me, that
when he was very young, his Father
had contracted him to a kinswoman
of his, that liv’d in the
House with ’em, who had a great
Fortune, and he heard was handsome
and witty; but he went to
his Travels before it could be known E9v 90
known, whether she was either so;
that he had never had any Love
for her: I had a great mind to let
my Mother know this, for I knew
she was scrupulous in such things,
and would not consent to Marry
me to a Man, that had any engagement
to another; but I was
loath to do it, without his leave,
since he was so sincere as to tell it
me, and because I was afraid to exasperate
him. I took a great deal
of pains to flatter him into a complyance;
I told him my Mother
cou’d not have the worse Opinion
of him for it, since ’twas a thing
done when he was so young, and
that he could have no other Reason
to hinder him, now that he had
no design upon me, which if he
had, I shou’d find other ways to disappoint
’em, thô perhaps they
might make me more uneasie. At
last with much difficulty he agreed
to it, and when I told it to my
Mother, I found her affected as I wish’d; E10r 91
wish’d; which when Antonio knew,
he fetch’d a great Sigh, and only
said, “Have I lost all my hope then,
and so went away extreamly
discompos’d. A while after
he came to take leave of us,
and said his Father had sent for him
in haste, to go to his own Country;
but he told me in private, that
he could stay no longer in a place,
where he grew every day more and
more unhappy; and that now he
had resolv’d to leave it: He could
not forbear telling me, that he had
only conceal’d his Love all this
while, to get into my Favour, and
in hopes of finding something which
might give him hopes. But since I
had now depriv’d him of all, he
wou’d not encrease his Misery, by
seeing every day the Objects of his
Love, and of his Hate, his Cruel
Mistress, and his happy Rival. I
am told his Father presses him extreamly
to Marry, being his only
Son, but he waves it. I should think E10v 92
think I had given you a Description
of a Miracle of Constancy in
spight of Rigours and Absence;
but that in this Age, kindness is a
more effectual way to cure Love;
an unlucky thing, since no body
will attempt it, that has that design;
but I, (or Fortune for me,)
found you see, a less dangerous
way to free my self, with more ease
than I cou’d hope, and I think it’s
time to deliver you now, and give
you a little respite till next Post,
when you may expect the continuance
of the History of


Let- E11r

Letter VI.

If I did not know to the contrary
by my own Experience; you
wou’d make me believe, that
Friendship and Love can’t be contain’d
in one Breast. Is it possible you
can be so much taken up with Ambrisia,,
that you have not time enough
to tell me of it; and that
in this solitude, I should hear of
Cleander’s Affairs from two or three,
before I know any thing of ’em
from himself: They tell me, you
are every day with your New Mistress,
and that you are well receiv’d
there. I should be pleas’d
with it, if I did not fear, in stead
of finding two Friends, to lose that
one, whose Friendship I prefer to
all other things: But you’ll make
me almost Jealous of her, if
you don’t write quickly, for this is
my fourth since I’ve heard from you. E11v 94
you. Tell me Cleander, you that
search into the Nature of things,
that know the Passions of Men;
how they are form’d in the Soul,
and by what means, and what degrees
they rise; tell me, how I may
give that Awe, that Fear, or that
Respect which I hear often talk’d
of, that makes men not dare to tell
a Woman that they love her. Is
it the Grave, the Sour, the Proud,
or modest Looks? Or is there no
such thing, but in Songs and Romances?
For my part, I cou’d never
meet with it; and tho perhaps
there is some Pleasure in being belov’d,
I cannot endure to be told
of it, unless by the Language of
the Eyes, or so; for that we need
not understand: But there’s nothing
so dull, or so troublesome to me,
as a declar’d Lover: This Reflection
was occasion’d by an Adventure
happen’d to me two days ago; a
Stripling of Eighteen, whose Father
and Mother had been Servants in the E12r 95
the Family where I am, said to one
in the House (who told me) that
he was in Love with me, and after
had the Insolence to tell me himself,
that he was in Love; “But you little
think with whom, Madam,”
added he;
and just as he was going to finish
his Declaration, by good Fortune
he was call’d away: Can any thing
be more provoking? Teach me
where to place my Anger on the
Men, or on my self. Antonio was
bashful to a Fault in other things,
and yet he did not fear to say all
he thought, and it may be more to
me. Cloridon who treated me with
the highest Respect imaginable, discover’d
his Love to me, as soon as
he knew it himself; and many have
pretended it, that never felt any, at
least for me. The last indeed had
encouragement enough, not to repent
of what he had done, and
Reason not to despair of any thing
he could ask; so that after being
two years contented with my Love he E12v 96
he Resolv’d to put it to the Tryal,
and begun to pretend to Favours,
with all the Arguments he could
invent, or find, to perswade me of
the Innocence and lawfulness of
what he ask’d: You may find what
influence they had upon me by the
following Lines, which he sent me
in a Letter next day.

“I. Nnot one kind word, not one relenting Look? The harsh, the Cruel Doom to mitigate? Your Native Sweetness, ev’n your Eyes forsook; They shin’d, but in the fiercest Form of Hate. II. Is’t Honour does these Rigid Laws impose; That will no sign of gentleness allow; That tells you, ’tis a Crime to Pity Foes, And bids you all the utmost Rigour show? III. All Praise the Judge, unwilling to Condemn, Where Clemency with Justice long Debates: But he who Rig’rously insults, we blame, And think the Man more than his Sin he hate IV. Dar F1r 97 IV. Dare I my Judge Accuse of Cruelty? When at her Feet she saw her Slave implore, With hasty Joy she gave the sad Decree: I hate you, and will never see you more. V. Ay! ’tis too plain the False Olinda’s pleas’d To see the Captives Death, her Eyes had made: As what she wish’d she the Occasion seiz’d; No Sigh a kind Reluctancy betray’d. VI. If you intend to try your Power, or Skill, A Nobler way pursue the great Design: The meanest Wretch on Earth knows how to kill; But to preserve from Deaths an Act Divine. VII. Like Heav’n, you with a Breath can Recreate Your Creature, that without you does not Live: Say that you Love, and you Revoke my Fate; And I’m immortal if you can forgive. F VIII. My F1v 98 VIII. My fiercest Wishes you shall then restrain, And Love that tramples o’re my heart subdue: What doubt can of your mighty Pow’r remain, When even that submits and yields to you?”

I believe I spoke from my Heart,
when I told him I hated him; I’m
sure I thought so then, when I saw
him whom I believ’d to have an Esteem
and Respect for me, act as if
he had neither. I said the most violent
things I cou’d imagine against
him, and left him without the least
Reluctancy: But my Rage, or
Hate, was soon Converted to a
Quiet, Stupid Grief, that overwhelm’d
my Soul, and left me not
the Power of easing it in the common
way, in tears, or Complaints. I
saw that I must resolve never to see
him again, whatever it made me
endure: And in fine I saw all that
cou’d make me unhappy, without any F2r 99
any hopes of a Remedy; for thô
he Writ to me often to beg my
Pardon, and Vow’d a thousand
times, he would not be guilty of
the same fault again; thô he were
sure to be successful; yet I prevail’d
with my self absolutely to refuse
to see him, with more Resolution
than I thought my self capable of;
for I consider’d it was dangerous
to trust him, notwithstanding his
Protestations, since he had broke
his Word before: And I don’t know
if I had not some Reason to distrust
my self, after having gone so
far, as not only to suffer him to
talk to me of his Love, but to
own mine to him. When he saw
this would not do, he had recourse
to his old way of Writing upon business;
but the Letter came first to
my hands, and so I stifled it, and
said nothing of it to my Mother.
A Week after a Porter came to me,
and said he was sent by the Countess
of ―― who desir’d me to go F2 imme- F2v 100
immediately to her Lodgings, for
she had something of great Consequence
to tell me; and that he left
her at a place where she had Din’d,
but she was just going home. Away
I went, and when they told
me she was not at home, I thought
she wou’d not fail of being there
presently, and went up Stairs to
stay for her: When I came into the
Room, I saw Cloridon there, and
wou’d have retir’d; but he civilly
hinder’d me, and told me, he was
waiting for his Cousin (for this Lady
was nearly related to him) whom
he expected to come in very soon;
but ’twas a great Happiness I came
before, and more than he cou’d
have hop’d for from Fortune; for
at first he pretended it was chance
brought us together there: But he
knew I must find it out, and so to
prevent my discovering it to the
Lady, he told me that coming to
visit her, and not finding her at
home; it came into his thoughts to send F3r 101
send for me in her Name; for he
knew that she us’d to visit me, and
often desir’d me to go abroad with
her, or to bear her Company at
home; so that he hop’d he might
succeed without being suspected. I
was in great confusion, and very
angry at the trick he had put upon
me; and yet I cou’d not but be a
little pleas’d at it too. I lov’d to
see him, and was glad of an opportunity
to give him his Pardon,
which I did, but made a Vow never
to consent to meet him in private,
thô he beg’d it upon his knees
above an hour, and said he wou’d
not rise till I had granted it: I suppose
he was not so good as his
Word; but I left him in that posture,
and before I went away,
charg’d him not to write to me any
more. This enterview serv’d but
to encrease my melancholy; I indulg’d
it a long time, and thought
upon nothing but what sooth’d and
added to it: But at length consideringring F3v 102
the occasion of my misfortune,
it represented it self to me, not only
as my Folly but my Crime; and
then I concluded it must be a Crime
to grieve for the loss of that, which
’twas a Crime to Love; and so
fix’d a resolution of overcoming
my Passion, which I endeavour’d
to do by Reason, and
by diversions. Had I had you my
Friend to assist me with your Counsels,
I had found it much less difficult;
but now I had the strongest
part of my self to Combat without
any Aid: I often gave ground,
and sometime suffer’d my self to be
vanquish’d by the bewitching Reflections
of what unequall’d satisfactions
I had found in his Company,
and how many happy hours I enjoy’d
with him; but some good
thought wou’d rouse my Soul to
strive again, and then the Victory
was mine. I find by experience ’tis
but bravely, heartily, and thoroughly
Resolving upon a thing, and F4r 103
and ’tis half done: There’s no passion,
no Temptation so strong, but
Resolution can overcome: All is to
be able to Resolve; there’s the
point, for one must lose a little of
the first Ardour, before one can do
that; and many of our Sex have
ruin’d themselves, for want of time
to think. ’Tis not a constant setled
purpose of Virtue will do;
there must be particular Resolutions
for a particular Attack; ’tis
easie enough to say, “no Man shall
prevail with me to do an ill thing;”

the difficulty is such a Man shall
not; he that I love, he that ’tis
Death for me to deny any thing
to: There I got the better of my
self, and at last attain’d to a calm
serenity of mind, which I have enjoy’d
ever since, as much as can be
expected in such a World as this;
and which nothing can disturb,
if you continue to have that
Friendship for me, which you have
profess’d, and which your silence F4 makes F4v 104
makes me almost doubt of: But
there’s hardly any thing I could
not more easily believe, than that
Cleander is false, or Inconstant.
Write quickly, for I am impatient
to know the Cause of this unkindness

Your constant Friend,


Let- F5r 105

Letter VII.

Ambrisia’s Cruel, Coy, Disdainful,
and you believe she hates
you; and yet Ambrisia took occasion
at play to impose upon you, as a
pennance, not to Write for a Month
to one she believ’d you lov’d. If
this had been anothers Case, you
wou’d have discover’d that Ambrisia’s
Jealous. Trust me she loves
you, and only puts on the usual
disguises of Women, as sincere as
she is; and give me leave to justifie
her, and the rest of our Sex in that
Case: You have learnt so well to
feign Love, when you have none,
that ’tis very hard to discern Art
from Nature; and ’tis but reasonable
we shou’d be allow’d the less
Guilty part of concealing ours, till
we can know whether you are sincere:
Besides we know those things
are most valu’d, that are obtain’d F5 with F5v 106
with most difficulty; and your natural
Inconstancy gives us Reason
to use all means to make you prize
us as much as we can. Your selves
too, encourage us in it, for you
despise a Woman that’s easily gain’d,
thô you rail at the Dissembler; and
we can’t begin to love just when
you would have us; so that both
for our own sake, and yours, ’tis
sometimes necessary to deceive you:
And I believe I may add that there
is a Natural Modesty in some Women,
that makes ’em asham’d to
own their Love. Mr. Dryden in his
State of Innocence, gives our Mother
Eve a little of that; thô some are
of Opinion, it had its Birth from
your faithlessness; and that if you
had not been false we had never
been shie. If it be so, don’t you
think we have Reason to be cautious,
in a thing of such Weight?
But I need not take such pains to
defend this Cause, for mine was a
Fault on the other hand, a too easiesie F6r 107
discovery of my Love: And to
speak the Truth what ever we are
accus’d of, I believe that’s the more
general one. ’Tis only those that
are as Wise as your Mistress, that
can have so much Command over
themselves, as to be guilty of the
tother; tho if she knew you as
well as I do, she wou’d find that
she has no need to make use of any
Arts to try you, or to preserve you:
However don’t despair, the Mask
will soon fall off. You have Reason
to wonder at my breaking off
with Orontes, since by what I have
told you, Cloridon cou’d be no occasion
of it: But suspend your amazement
a little, thô my misfortunes
ended at seventeen, my Adventures
did not; and sev’ral things
have happen’d to me in the year
I have pass’d since, which you
are yet a Stranger to. You neither
know how my acquaintance begun
with Orontes, nor why it ended. In
the beginning of last Summer when I F6v 108
I was endeavouring to divert my
Love, and Grief, I went with a
Lady to see a play: She was not
in humour to dress, and wou’d needs
have me go Incognito; and as we
were coming out of the Play-House
we were seiz’d upon by two Sparks,
who swore they wou’d not part with
us; but that either we shou’d Sup
with them, or they wou’d go with us.
We did not know how to be rid of
these impertinents, but we saw if
we took Coach we cou’d not hinder
them from going into it; so
we Resolv’d to Walk to our Mantua
maker, who liv’d hard by; and
when we went in they left us, as
we thought: But a quarter of an
hour after they came up Stairs, and
thô we were very angry at the
Rudeness, yet they staid a pretty
while; and he that had at first apply’d
himself to the other Lady,
was very pressing to be acquainted
with her; but my Spark sate down
just opposite to me without saying a F7r 109
a Word, only sometimes desir’d his
Friend to go away; which after he
had plagu’d us half an hour they
did: The next Week I went to
Tunbridge with my Mother; and
the first sight I saw at the Wells was
this Gentleman: He came towards
us very respectfully, and said he
was very glad of this opportunity
of begging my Pardon, for the Insolence
he had been guilty of; he
hop’d the Lady who was with us,
whom he had the Honour to know,
wou’d intercedce for him. She that
was in the Country with us, and
who you know is an intimate friend
of ours, happen’d to be very well
acquainted with him; and when
we came home, she told me that
his Name was Orontes; that he was
a Gentleman who had but a small
Fortune; but to repair it, he was
Marry’d to a Rich Widow above
threescore and ten; that tho’ she
was very ill Natur’d, he was the
best Husband in the World to her, but F7v 110
but he would take his Pleasure
abroad sometimes, and she was extreamly
jealous. He came to visit
this Lady, and intreated her to carry
him to see me; for he said he
was sensible of the Affront he
had given me the first time he
saw me, and that he was very desirous
of some Occasion to serve me;
and he thought himself obliged to
tell me so, and to seek all Opportunities
of doing it. She consented
to it; and he came often to see us,
and was very obliging to us. I
will let you know my Thoughts of
him, because you can tell me if
they are just; for he said he was not
the same Man with me as with any
Body else: He seemed to me to
have Wit enough, but ’twas rough
and unpolish’d; nothing of that Politeness
which renders a Man agreeable
in Conversation. After the
common Theams of the Weather,
and News, were discuss’d, playing
at Cards, or taking the Air, were certainly F8r 111
certainly propos’d: But I have
heard, that in other places he was
very entertaining, and had a hundred
pleasant Stories to divert the
Company. What can be the reason
of this? I’m sure he stood in no
awe of me, as his future Actions
shew’d; and he always told me his
Thoughts freely, but plain, and
blunt, without giving ’em the turn
of Gallantry, which is necessary
to take; and yet he could not want
Breeding, for he always convers’d
with People of the First Quality.
The Manner is often more look’d
upon than the Thing; and though
I’m as little pleased with Forms as
any Woman, yet in some things
’tis the essential part: There are
few Men, whose Esteem or Respect
I covet; but I would have all Men
keep that distance with me, as if I
gave ’em awe; but I could never
obtain it of ’em; though none ever
gave me so much occasion to lament
it as Orontes. Once, when he F8v 112
he was at our Lodging, my Mother
was talking of a Journey she designed
the next day about Ten
Miles off, where she was to stay all
Night: He asked me if I went with
her: I said, “No;” and desired my
Mother to return as soon as she
could; because I should be alone
till then. It seems, (as he told me
since,) he had made an Appointment
with a particular Friend of his
about Business of Importance; but
having long desired to see me alone,
he would not neglect this Occasion,
and sent him an Epistolary Excuse
in these Words:

“My Wife thinks I am with you; but
Olinda told me she shall be alone to day,
and I don’t know when I shall meet with
such a favourable Opportunity; so that
you must excuse me; but I’ll certainly
see you to morrow.”

His Wife, being always suspicious
of Letters she did not read, went
to the Post-house after this: They
made no scruple to give it her; becausecause F9r 113
they knew ’twas one of their
Servants had brought it; and when
she had read it, she went home in
all hast, and had her Husband
dog’d to my Lodgings. When he
came there he told me, that the first
time he saw me, he lik’d my Shape
and Mien and was extreamly taken
with my Face, that he durst not so
much as ask me Pardon whilst he
saw me so angry; and that since he
was acquainted with me, my Humor
had charm’d him so, that he
could be content to leave all the
World for me: And then, Laughing,
ask’d me, If I could live with him,
and he would keep me a Coach, and
let me want nothing I could desire.
I rally’d with him till he begun to
talk more seriously, and then I
check’d him for his Insolence; but it
had no effect upon him: And when
he saw that neither Promises nor
Intreaties could move me, and that
opportunity favour’d him, he resolved
to try what Violence would do; he F9v 114
he had sent our Servant a Mile off
for to fetch some Fruit, which, he
said, was the best about the Countrey;
and we were in a back Room
near no Body in the House, so that
I was in great Fear; however I made
all the Noise and Resistance I could,
and was happily delivered by his
old Lady’s coming in: She might
easily perceive we were both in Confusion,
though she hardly guess’d
the true Cause; and I was so good
natur’d as not to tell it her. When
she rail’d, we bore it with a great
deal of Patience, and indeed I wonder’d
at his Moderation: I really
thought he would have let her beat
me to revenge his Cause; but he
was not so much a Brute, he hindred
her, and very civilly led her away.
The next day I saw him at the Wells,
and whilst my Company was
Raffling, he took the Opportunity
to talk with me, though I avoided
him with all the Diligence I could.
“Don’t frown upon me, Olinda,” says he, you F10r 115
“you ought to forgive me; Repentance is
all that Heaven requires, and I never
in my Life did an Action that troubled
me so much; but if you have not good
Nature enough to Pardon me upon that,
I must say something to excuse my self:
If I believ’d you Virtuous before, it must
be by an implicit Faith; but the way to
be sure was to try it, and now I shall
always admire that Virtue I could not
subdue: Why then should you be angry
with me any longer than my Fault remains?”
Though I had a little Prejudice
against him, I thought he
spoke with more Eloquence, and a
better Grace, than ever I heard
him before; it may be his Concern
inspired him; but ’twas to little purpose,
for I was inexorable. I told
him, “I did not think him worth my Anger,
and should easily forgive him, upon
Condition he would never see me any
“No, Madam,” said he, “I’d
rather see you angry, than not see you at
And in spight of me he visited
us often; but I always entertain’d him F10v 116
him with a coldness that did not
much please him, though no Body
else perceived it. We came to Town
in the beginning of --09September, and
he was once at our house, and found
me alone: He began to talk of a
violent Passion he had for me; but
I stop’d him, and said, That was
not a Discourse fit for me to hear from him. I commanded him to
leave me, and told him if he ever
came there again, I wou’d be deny’d
to him: He obey’d me, and I
did not see him again till --11Novemeber.
He came in Mourning, and told us
he had had the misfortune to bury
his Wife. He Writ to my Mother
to desire her leave to make his Addresses
to me; which she gave him,
and then he appear’d a declar’d Lover.
I was so us’d to receive him
with Anger and Disdain, that tho
I had not the same Reason now,
I did not change my behaviour to
him; and for four Months my Mother
let me take my own way, without F11r 117
without speaking one word of Orontes
to me: Either she design’d to
observe what I wou’d do of my
self, or she did not think it fit to
talk of my Marrying him so soon
after his Wifes Death; but when
she saw I slighted him so long; she
said to me one day, “what do you
mean Child, to receive with equal
indifference all the proposals are
made to you? do you Resolve to
lead a single Life? I shou’d approve
the choice in one of a better Fortune;
but you must conform your
self to yours, and consider that I
am not able to maintain you. If
you don’t hate Orontes I will have
you Marry him, he has given so
great Proof of his being a good
Husband, that you can’t fear he
will be otherwise to you; he is
handsome enough, and very Rich;
I believe he loves you, and in fine
I think you may be as happy with
him as with any Man; therefore,
don’t be obstinately bent against your F11v 118
your own good.”
He came in at
the same time, and seconded this
Command of my Mothers with Intreaties
and Complaints. I had
no Aversion for him, and since my
Circumstances wou’d oblige me to
Marry, and that I knew I could
never Love any Man; I thought
it might as well be he as any other;
so in some time after I yielded,
and the Wedding day was appointed
to be --05-16the Sixteenth of May last.
How do you think ’tis possible to
avoid it now? But many things
happen betwixt the Cup and the
Lip. You are to know that Orontes’s
Estate lay near a fine Seat of
Cloridons, which he often retir’d to;
so that they were well acquainted,
and much together; and that Orontes
when to his Country House to
make some Preparations a Week
before the design’d Marriage. Cloridon
told him he was extreamly
pleas’d to see him there; for they
had made a match for Hunting five or F12r 119
or six days after with some Friends
of his, that were wishing for him.
“I must beg your Pardon my Lord,”
says he, “that I cannot stay so long;
for I have business that will call
me to London sooner,.
“if it be not
of great importance,”
return’d he,
“pray let me prevail with you to
“’Tis not to be defer’d my
Lord, I am to be Marry’d:”
cry’d my Lord, “prethee what
Madness possesses thee, so lately
freed, to bind thy self again without
any necessity for it? What bait
next, not another old Rich crabbed
Widow I hope?”
“I have made
a better Choice now,”
Answer’d Orontes:
“She has Youth and Goodness
I’m sure; and I’ve Mony enough
for us both.”
“You are in the
Reply’d Cloridon; “but may I
know her Name.”
“You knew her
Father my Lord,”
says he, and then
Sir Martin Marrall told him whose
Daughter I was. “And are you engag’d
to her,”
Cloridon ask’d? “She has F12v 120
has promis’d to Marry me --05-16the 16th
of this Month
said Orontes, “and
therefore my Lord, I hope you
won’t take it ill if I leave you upon
so weighty an Affair.”
was not in humour of making many
Complements; but he ask’d abundance
of Questions, of the beginning,
and Progress of his Love,
and how I had us’d him all the
time; but he cou’d not much boast
of my Favour, which pleas’d Cloridon,
and encourag’d him to endeavour
to break off the Match. He
told Orontes he should be oblig’d to
go to London that day, but he
wou’d come back again before he
went away; so he left him, and
immediately took his Journey; and
as soon as he arriv’d, came to our
Lodgings, where he found my
Mother and I together. Judge of
my surprize as this sight, my first
thoughts were of Orontes; I sigh’d
when I compar’d ’em with one another,
and had a thousand differentrent G1r 121
thoughts which I know
not what to make of. Cloridon
Addressing himself to my Mother,
said, “Madam I am come
to beg a Favour of you, which I
should hardly have the Confidence
to ask, if the whole satisfaction
of my Life did not depend
upon it.”
My Mother told him,
that she cou’d not refuse any thing
to one whom she ow’d so much
to; and that she shou’d think
her self happy, if she cou’d serve
him in a thing wheich he said
concern’d him so nearly. He return’d
some Complements, and
then desir’d her to hear him out
with Patience, which she promis’d,
and he begun. “I have
a long time had a great Love,
and Respect for your Daughter,
and wou’d have giv’n all
the World to have seen her
sometimes; but she refus’d it me;
and I bore her Rigour without G Murmu- G1v 122
Murmuring, in hopes the time
might come when I could tell
her I lov’d her without offending
her Virtue: But I can’t live
when I have lost that hope, and
therefore am come to beg you
not to Marry Olinda, as I am
told you design; and I will
make her Fortune greater than
what she can expect from Orontes.”
“How my Lord,” interrupted
my Mother,
“what strange Proposition
is this you make me?”
not angry with me, or fear me,”

continu’d he, “for the moment you
grant what I entreat of you, I
will leave you, and never desire
to see Olinda again, as long as I
continue in the Condition I am
in: But ’twill be a great Happiness
for me to think, that she may
one day be mine; and to be assur’d
she will never be any
others; and if she be not chang’d,
or that I am not much mistaken in G2r 123
in her, she will not be averse to
He was in the right, for thô
I was never an Enemy to Marriage,
yet I always prefer’d a
single Life to it; and I found enough
of my stifled Flame revive
to make my Wishes comply
with his. When my Mother
saw me much enclin’d to it, and
knowing I had only consented
to Marry Orontes in complyance
to her; she began to think of it
as a thing might be done, but
that she had given her Word to
Orontes, and cou’d not go back
from it. But Cloridon told her,
she need not be in any Fault in
that, if she wou’d but make use
of the occasion would be given
her, to break off with Orontes
without Examining further. She
made some other Objections, but
he Answer’d them all, and upon
his Knees Swore, that if I Married
Orontes, neither he nor my G2 Husband G2v 124
Husband would survive it: So
partly out of fear of what might
happen, and partly out of inclination
to oblige him, and willingness
to please me, my Mother
consented. Cloridon begg’d
leave to talk with me, before he
took his last leave, which he did,
and made me some little tender
Reproaches for having resolv’d
to Marry; which I Answer’d
with a more reserv’d kindness
than I had sometimes done; and
that was the Subject of many
Letters he sent me since; for he
often Writes to me. Two days
before we were to be Marry’d,
Orontes was to come to Town,
which Cloridon knew, and had
provided half a dozen Soldiers
to seize upon him in the Kings
Name, (for he was suspected for
an Enemy to the Government)
they did so, and told him they
were commanded to keep him a close G3r 125
close Prisoner in a House hard by
till further Order: He wou’d
fain have Writ, but they wou’d
not let him, for they said they
had Orders to the contrary.
There they kept him a Week,
and we wonder’d we heard nothing
of him, not knowing what
methods were us’d to hinder us;
and to avoid seeing our Friends
who wou’d enquire the Reason,
we thought it best to retire hither,
this being a private place.
When Cloridon knew I was out
of Town, he went himself to
free him, and told him things
had been misrepresented, and he
had been wrong’d; but in requital
he wou’d procure him any
employment he would Name;
but he did not accept it. When
he came to enquire for me, no
body could tell him where I was:
But a Friend with whom I had
left such Orders, told him that I had G3v 126
had taken it so ill, that he should
slight me so far, as neither to
come, nor to send to me, in so
long time, that whatever he cou’d
say for himself, I wou’d never
forgive him, nor so much as hear
him. He was no doubt troubled
at it, but he was not a Man to
take any thing much to Heart;
and Cloridon knowing he had not
dealt very fairly by him, was
very desirous to oblige him some
other way: And indeed he did
him a very considerable Service
not long after, for he was really
accus’d privately to the King of
a Plot which wou’d have cost
him his Life, if Cloridon had not
taken a great deal of pains to
free him, more than he cou’d
have expected in such a ticklish
Affair as that; and had like to
become himself suspected by it,
so that I think he has been more
his Friend in saving his Life, than he G4r 1327
he was his Enemy in taking his
Mistress from him. Thius is Cleander
the true Cause of my Retirement,
which is very agreeable
to me, whilst I hear often from
you, and whilst Cloridon continues
to think of me. I have
sent you a Copy of Verses which
he Writ to me just after I came

“Nor cou’d my Rival when those Charms By thee were destin’d to his Arms, Be half so blest as I, to find The Lovely Nun for me confin’d: Nor when of all that Bliss bereav’d, He saw his full blown hopes deceiv’d, Cou’d be so curst as I to see My self Exil’d from heav’n in thee. Strange Contradiction in my Fate At once a blest and wretched State, But who— what Lover wou’d not choose Thus to gain all, tho all he lose? G4 So G4v 128 So Merchants strive their Life to save, Threatned by ev’ry Wind, and Wave, And see with joy the long’d for Coast, Tho’ all they ventur’d for, is lost.”

Cloridon has just sent me word
that Orontes is Dead of the small
Pox; so that I shall come to Town
sooner then I design’d. The expectation
of seeing you, pleases
me extreamly, for tho I find a
great satisfaction in conversing
with you by Letters; yet ’tis
not so full and perfect at this distance,
as when I am with you.
I can’t tell you my thoughts so
well, nor know yours, a Question
suddenly started, or sometimes
a look will discover more
to me than you know of your
self; and I wou’d know you not
as you seem to the World, or
what you think of your self; but
what you are; for thô you are more G5r 129
more sincere than other Men;
yet there is no Man but deceives
the World, in some things, and
himself in more, and therefore
to be a good Man ’tis absolutely
necessary to have a rtrue Friend;
and since you have made choice
of me, I can only attone for my
want of other Qualifications, by
my Fidelity, which you may always
rely upon. Will not the
World, when they see so tender,
so constant an Affection betwixt
us, be convinced of that receiv’d
Error, that there can be no such
intimacy betwixt two of different
Sexes without the Passion of
Love? In us I’m sure they can’t
suspect it; when they see you
have so much Love for Ambrisia,
and me so forward to promote
its being reciprocal. I wish it
may have that effect, that the
Women may no longer scruple
to bestow their Friendship upon G5 a G5v 130
a Worthy Man, for fear of misconstructions;
both Sexes will
find their Advantages by it.
Yours is more capable to instruct
and form our Minds, than
the wisest of our own; and ours
will be more apt to curb that
Licentiousness, which Men usually
encourage one another in:
And what happiness will it be
for us, to see our selves the instruments
of all the Mens becoming
Good; and all the Women
Wise? (a more extraordinary
Reformation than Luthers.)
Let our Friendships then be so
exemplary, that all may emulate,
and wish to live like us;
and by endeavouring, find that
there’s a Purer and more Solid
satisfaction one moment with a
Friend, tha Ages thrown away
upon the Gallantries,
which so take up the Hearts,
and steal the Hours of our Youth. G6r 131
Youth. Adieu Cleander, Correct
the Errors of my Life with a
gentle Hand of Friendship, and
always be as much my Friend, as
I am yours


Cleander G6v 132

Letter VIII.

Olinda to Cloridon.

In Answer to a Letter which he
sent her with the Copy of Verses
in the sixth of the foregoing

Tis not an hour ago, since
I believ’d I hated you: I
thought I cou’d have rail’d at you,
have call’d you base, seducer of
my Honour, Traytor, that under
a pretence of Love, design’d
my Ruin; but Ah! Those tender
Excuses which you sent me,
soon discover’d the mistake, and
show’d me it was only Angry
Love, that so Transported me:
And now ’tis turn’d to as violent
a Grief, which wou’d fain
ease it self in Complaints: But I am G7r 133
am so Wretched, that even that
poor Comfort is deny’d me; for
who can I complain to, when in
Lamenting my misfortune I must
expose our Crime: For yours my
Lord, has involv’d me in the
guilt; and all those thoughts,
and Actions, which were innocent
before, must be condemn’d
as the Causes of such ill Effects:
For if I had never lov’d you, or
if I had never own’d it, nor consented
to see you, you had not
desir’d any thing of me that
cou’d shock my Virtue: Now I
can’t think of ’em without shame
and anger. That Love which
shin’d before so Pure and Bright,
appears now the blackest thing
in Nature; and I hate my self,
for not hating you: For I own
(thô I blush in owning) that I
love you still; Nay, I believe
that I forgive you too; but I
must never, never see you more: No, G7v 134
No, thô you Swear you Repent,
and that you wou’d not Repeat
your Crime, if you were certain
of success. Would not you believe
I shou’d as easily Pardon
your breach of this Vow, as I
did the last, which you made
me as solemnly? Yes you wou’d,
my Lord, and I should be betray’d
to things I never thought
of yet: For all is solid, convincing
Reason, that you speak;
and I should soon believe any
thing you wou’d have me. Curse
on that fond Credulity, that first
deceiv’d me into a belief, that
’twas no Sin to love you. Yet
sure it could not be an unpardonable
Fault, to value one that so
infinitely deserves it: To Love,
to see, and talk with one whose
Conversation is so Charming as
yours; and that was all I wish’d.
All that know you do the same,
why then am I more guilty? Ah! if G8r 135
if your Fame had been as pure
as mine, we had both been happy
and innocent; so innocent,
that she, that happy she, who
claims all your Love as her due,
(even she I think, if she had known
our Hearts) cou’d not have been
offended at it: But who is there,
the most uninterest that would
not now condemn us; Nay, the
most partial cou’d not excuse us;
even we should blame our selves.
Why will you then importune
me still to see you; ask me no
more, what I dare never grant;
and believe ―― but you know,
’tis not unkindness makes me Refuse
you: You know I must be
Wretched in your Absence; yet
think me easie and satisfied,
if it will contribute any thing
to your quiet; or rather don’t
think of me at all. Let us make
our selves as happy as we can;
I will endeavour to forget you; don’t G8v 136
don’t Write to me, if you love
me well enough to forbear it:
And if you can cease to love me,
without hating me; for I don’t
find I have force enough to bear
so great a misfortune, which is
the only one can add to the
weight of those which have already
almost sunk

The Poor Olinda.

Let- G9r 137

Letter IX.

After her Retirement to the

Iwont deny my Lord, that
I us’d all my endeavours to
overcome my Love to you,
and that I thought they were
not ineffectual: But I must tell
you with the same sincerity, that
I found I had but smother’d that
Fire which I design’d to extinguish;
and when I saw you last
it began to burn as strong as ever.
I fear’d it would break
out; and therefore put on that
Coldness which you Reproach
me with so much; for I cou’d
not apprehend any danger, from
that which I had study’d so long;
and all the indifference I could show G9v 138
show you, was the product of
calm Reason; but I durst not
trust a fierce and suden Passion.
Forgive me this, my Lord, for
’ts the only Artifice I ever made
use of to you; and if I had
lov’d you less, I had seem’d to
love you more. But I can hardly
Pardon you that malicious accusation
which you make me,
that my unkindness (as you call
it) proceeded from my Anger,
for your having Robb’d me of
my Husband. You know you
wrong me, my Lord, Orontes
himself has told you enough to
convince you ’twas Obedience,
and not Inclination, that made
me consent to Marry him: And
if I could tell you with what
Joy I pass’d the intended Wedding
day, you wou’d not doubt
of my Fidelity. The Happiest
Bride that Love has made, was
never half so pleas’d, amidst all the G10r 139
the gay Solemnities of her Nuptial
Day, as I was on that happy
one, which freed me from the
dreaded Bondage; and gave me
such a Proof of your Eternal
Love, as I need not blush to
own, was the highest satisfaction
to me imaginable: For I not only
saw you had preserv’d your
Affection entirely for me, in
spight of time, and a long Absence;
but that it was refin’d
and Sympathiz’d with mine in
its Purity, as well as in its Ardour:
And now methinks we
are a kind of Platonick Lovers.
My Dear Love, do not fear I
should forget you. It was not
in my Power, when I try’d all
Arts to do it; and now that I
indulge my thoughts of you and
think ’em Authoriz’d, what danger
is there? All my Life is Dedicated
to you: I think of nothing
else, and my chief pleasuresure G10v 140
in this lovely Solitude, is
sometimes to Write down the
Passages of our Loves. I am a
thousand times more happy than
when I believ’d I had only an
indifference for you, and for all
the World. Life was then a dull
senseless thing, without Relish;
but now every tender expression
you write Transports me; and I
feel a Joy not to be excell’d on
this side Heaven. Be satisfied
then, I wou’d not if I cou’d, be
that infsensible Creature again for
an Empire: And sure you cannot
fear I shou’d change for any other.
You have all that one
cou’d wish for, if one were to
Form a Man: and I have neglected,
or despiz’d, so many, as
sufficiently show my Heart was
made for you alone: Be confident
of it, and tell me you believe
I love you, and that I shall
never love any other. I wish you G11r 141
you cou’d add that none had ever
mov’d your Heart but me.
Why was so faithful a one as
mine bestow’d on one, who owes
all his to another? But I will
not Murmur at Fate: Be as just
to her when Fortune is given
you as you can; and give her all
that you can give without being
ungrateful to


To G11v 142

Love and Gallantry.

To Cleander, sent with the
following Letters.

We―― (now do you
fancy by the Stile some
great Prince has sent to you;
but how miserably you’ll be
humbled when you find, ’tis a
Company of Females Greet you)
who having heard by a great Accident,
that you are going to
Print some Letters from a young
Lady to you; have sent you
these enclos’d to help to fill up
the Volume, for as one says, Tis G12r 143 “’Tis not how well a Writer says?But ’tis how much that gathers Praise:T――n who is himself a Wit,Counts Authors Merits by the Sheet.”
which we having duly consider’d,
and being a Mighty good Natur’d
Crew, had rather expose
our Follies, than let your Friends
Wit be damn’d for want of Paper.
Curse on you, Cry you,
I had rather any Prince in Christendom
had sent me a Sentence
for Treason, than that such a
pack of Bablers should have
found out my secret. But Prithee
don’t Swear, and I’le please
you as well as I can; tho one of
our Gang (by the way, the only
malicious one amongst us; and
for your Comfort, she does not
know you) bids me let you fret
a little: But I’m resolv’d I will
tell you the Truth. Know then, that G12v 144
that none of us can guess who
Olinda is, and but two of us have
the Honour to know you, who
for the Glory of our Sex are Resolv’d
to show the World that ’tis
in the Power of two Women to
keep a secret: Nay, you shall
see we can keep two; for ’tis as
great a one, by what strange way
we found out yours; and if we
shou’d discover that to you, you
wou’d have Reason to doubt
our faithfulness in your Affair.
So you must e’ne be content
without cracking your Brain about
it, and thank us for our
Love, thô you Laugh at our

If Olinda has any more Adventures,
we can furnish you
with enough of this Scrible to
help out the Volume.

You H1r 145 You may inform the Judicious
Readers, that if they please to have
Recourse to a Book Entituled, Letters
and Poems, Amorous and
, they will understand some
of these the better, which are Answers
that were sent to the Author
of them.
Answer H1v 146

Answer to the Eight Letter,
in the aforesaid Book
from a Lady who had spoken
against him.

You are a very unlucky Fellow
to lose your Aim after
taking so much pains, whilst
you call your self a Fool, to perswade
me you have a great deal
of Wit: And to have gain’d nothing
by it, but only to convince
me more fully that your Vanity
is an incurable Disease. For as
a precise pretence to Religion is
a certain sign of wickedness, so
nothing discovers a conceited Fop
more than an affected Modesty;
and you have so effectually perswaded
me of the Truth of what
you say (not what you think)
of your self, that ’tis not in the
Power of Man (if any reasonable
one cou’d undertake it.) to delude H2r 147
delude me into a better Opinion
of you; thô rather than be troubled
with that impertinent Passion
which you threaten me with,
I wou’d make you a Panegyrick,
with as little Wit and as little
Truth as e’re a Nonsensical Author
in a begging Dedication:
And rather than be your Rival
in any thing, I would hate both
those Qualities. But I know you
are endowed with no more of
one, than Nature has given you
of the other; and as good a face
as you put upon the matter, that
you are Angry with me at the
Soul of you, for saying that
which all the World thinks of
you but your self. Oh I beg
your Pardon Sir, I shou’d have
excepted those Women, which
you were pleas’d to tell me,
you have a natural Affection
for. I don’t doubt but they
sympatize with you extreamly, H2 and H2v 148
and as naturally admire their
own resemblance in you: And
really, I think, you’re very much
indebted to Nature, for allowing
you so large a Province;
whilst the modest Men, the Men
of Wit and Judgment, are very
narrowly confin’d, and rarely
meet with one Woman, who
knows how to value ’em: But
you may Range about at your
pleasure, and every where find
so many Images of your dear
pretty self, that you can never
fail of pleasing, and being pleased.
Assure your self ’tis that
which has kept you so long
in the Ladies good Graces, and
that as long as you continue a
silly Idle conceited Fop, that is
as long as you live, you will find
more agree with you in that Dotage
which you have of your self
than you will meet with of the
Opinion of Sir,

Your, &c.

H3r 149

Answer to the Ninth Letter
in the same Book,
from a Masqu’d Lady.

Imust own my Conquest
wou’d be very extraordinary,
if ’twas as absolute as you
say ’tis: But methinks a confinement
(as you call it) to Womankind,
looks like more Liberty,
than suits with the Condition of
a Captive; and either you are
still Master of your self, or I am
a very generous Victor, it can’t
be the last, because I wou’d willingly
make you a closer Prisoner;
so that by what I can find,
’tis doubtful yet, whether I shall
overcome or no: And the worst
on’t is, I don’t know what method
to take, that may be most
likely to subdue you; for you
have form’d such great Idea’s of H3 my H3v 150
my Power, that when you see it
comes short of your expectation,
I’m afraid you’ll disdain to yield;
and what hope can I have of
success, by keeping you ignorant
of my Weakness, since it has
had so little effect hitherto? So
that I think since I’m not able
to vanquish you by my own
strength, I must e’ne Dalilah-like
entice you to discover yours, or
rather your foible, (for every
Man has his foible) that I may
attack you there; thô not so
treacherously as she did, for you
see I give you fair warning; and
you shall have no Enemy to Encounter
but my self, so that you
need not stand much upon your
Guard: And now the Crime
must lye upon your Conscience,
if I lose a constant Lover, (to
leave our Allusion) for want of
knowing how to make him so.
Therefore clear your self quickly of H4r 151
of that Guilt, and you shall find
when I have made a real Conquest,
that I can triumph too:
For there are no such Miracles in
our days, as a Woman, and a
Conquerour without Vanity.
Till then I shall remain assur’d
of your Secrecy, and it may be
when you know me, you will
have no great Cause to brag of
having been subdu’d by

Your, &c.

Let- H4v 152

A Letter.

To a Lover upon his going
to the War:

O Love! Cruel Love, what
Torments dost thou expose
me to, what Anguish, what
Tortures, did I undergo last
year upon thy Account, and
what Miseries dost thou again
prepare for me, now Alcidon is
going to leave me to go to the
Wars. I daily fear to lose
a Friend so lovely, when he parts
from me upon any other Subject:
I grieve indeed, but I have not
that dread for his Dear Life,
which to me is the greatest of
Tortures. Why should he expose
himself to so many Perils
and Hazards? What can be addedded H5r 153
to Alcidon’s Fortune, or his
Glory? Is it reasonable he should
so often expose a Life, on which
so many others depend? and
ought we not in Reason to preserve
those things, the loss of
which is Irreparable, and never
to hazard them, far from cexposing
them continually? Ah my
Dear Aleidon, you never make
these Reflections, and when I
propose them to you, they make
no impression upon your Mind.
It is a Sign too visible you do
not love those who love you:
You do not Love Daphny, by
whom you are so tenderly belov’d;
and my tenderness meets
with nothing but indifference in
your Heart. You have no Compassion
for my Sufferings, my Sighs
and Tears can no longer move
you; Love is neglected as soon as
Honour Calls, and all my Passion
unregarded. Ah did you Love me H5 H5v 154
me you could not expose me thus
to so much Anguish, and plunge
me yearly into Mortal disquiets.
The little regard you have for
your Life, makes me loath mine,
and the Torments I suffer in
Loving you are so great, that to
be deliver’d out of them I wish
for Death.

Let- H6r 155

A Letter.

To one whose Songs were
more prevailing than his

You have Written a tedious
Letter to me, which begins,
“Madam.” When in point
of Gallantry, People do not call
me by my Name Cleora I am
strangely at a Loss. In Reading
over your long Letter, I was
still in hopes of finding in some
Period at least “Madam Cleora,” if
not “my Dear Cleora,” which wou’d
have been much more pleasing to
me: But wherever I cast my
Eyes, I only meet with, “Madam”;
Love, Respect, Passion, Tenderness!
Truly Sir, you would have
done much better to have kept to H6v 156
to your Songs. I do allow you
to be my Lover in Verse, but
I intreat you not to be so in
Prose. Sign’d, least you might
plead Ignorance.,


Let- H7r 157

A Letter.

To her Lover who had a
Law Suit depending.

Can you believe that I am
sometimes Mad enough to
wish that you may lose your
Suit? It would not hinder me
from being faithful to my promise:
And I should have the satisfaction
to convince you by
the Generosity of my proceeding
that I only Love your Person,
which satisfaction I would
prefer to your Estate. I find by
your Letters, that Love inspires
ers you with thoughts as unreasonable
as mine. But yet I shall
not be able to forbear following
of this sentiment, if you fail of
the success you expect in your business H7v 158
business. I hope you will forgive
my Wish, since it proceeds
from a Cause, you cannot disapprove,
and that you will do
me the Justice, to believe that if
I lov’d you less, my thoughts
perhaps would be more conformable
to your desires. Farewell
Dear Lovemore, ’tis but reasonable
I should return some kind
expression, for all those I have
receiv’d from you during your absence.
Farewel, make haste back
again; I conjure you, and believe
me intirely yours.

Let- H8r 159

A Letter.

Of Thanks, or rather an
Amorous Reproach.

You Cajole me extreamly
in your Verses, and yet
they do not please me. Having
call’d me Lucrece, where was
the necessity of calling me Venus?
Is not Lucrece beautiful enough?
I do believe my self as Vertuous
as she was, thô not so Handsom.
Pray be more regular in your Figures
another time. I have a Master
to teach me Rhetorick every
Morning; and therefore unless
you write better for the future;
you who pretend to Eloquence,
I swear that I will put you to your
Rudiment again, when you come
next to see me. Farewel.

Let- H8v 160

A Letter.

Without a Subject.

Ihave not yet written to you,
and I should be glad never to
write to you, since I should not do
it, if you were not absent; and
your absence grieves me sensibly.
For my part I do not think that
Letters are of so great a help as
people imagine. For instance,
should you do me the Favour to
write to me, I should undoubtedly
see your Wit in your Letters,
but I should not see your Person
there, nor those engaging
ways that accompany whatever
you do and say; much less that
Charming, Je ne scay quoy, which
occasions a great deal of pleasure
in seeing you, and much regret
to leave you. This shows that there H9r 161
there is a great deal of difference
between seeing you, and Writing
to you; and I will tell you
freely, that I am not very well
satisfied with Writing to you,
nor with Receiving Letters from
you. To be satisfied in that
Point, I would require impossibilities:
I would have your Letters,
as long as our Conversations,
and that you should Write
as often to me, as I could entertain
you if we liv’d together.
And even that would not satisfie
me; for in fine, as I have already
told you, I should see your
Wit in your Letters, but I should
not see your Person there; and
that is the thing one most desires
when one Loves as passionately
as I do, and when a Mistress is
as Charming as you are.

A H9v 162

Billet of Thanks.

Ireturn my hearty Thanks to
the Lovely Diana for the Partridges
she has sent me, that have
been kill’d by her own Hands.
Had she made that Present to
I.B. He would have said a thousand
pretty things to her, upon
the Honour and Satisfaction of
being kill’d by her fair Hands;
and wou’d have inlarg’d that
thought to the Glory and Felicity
of those Partidges. As for
my part who am not really so
Sparkish, I will content my self
to eat them with N. and to drink
the Lovely Diana’s Health.

Let- H10r 163

A Letter

To an Absent Friend.

Shall we never meet again
my Dear Philander will you
not come into this Country?
Shall I never return where you
are, and have we only Contracted
the most Tender, and most
Real Friendship, to expose our
selves to the Rigor of an everlasting
Absence? I hate my self
for having left you, you made
me happy without Fortune, and
Fortune cannot make me happy
without you.

Let- H10v 164

A Letter.

In the Stile of a Romance.

Ialways thought that the Noble
Theodolina would at some
time or other, Marry the Generous
Cleodamas, and that an Heroin
was destin’d to a Hero.
whatever Prosperity attend your
Life, envy it self will be forc’d
to Confess that you are Worthy
of them, and tho your good
Fortune should not equal your
Virtue, you may be the Happiest
Prince on Earth. May Heaven
who by your Hymen had given
a Signal Proof of his Providence,
preserve you long for
one another, and both for the

Let- H11r 165

A Letter.

By another Hand.

Now could I Railly my self
to Death, that I cannot
(as Sir Courtly says) Command
my Foible, but that I must give
Cynical Signior Morose, this advantage
against me; who never after
this will scruple to call me a
Woman, and Ridicule me as such,
that for a few fine Words can be
Wheadl’d to expose my self in
this manner; but seeing you are
willing to throw away so much
Time and Patience, in Reading
and Answering such Trifles, I
will be so Complacential to interchange
Two or Three Letters
with you, and by that time you
will be weary, if not asham’d of your H11v 166
your Correspondence, besides
being to go into the Country,
thô I shou’d like well enough of
the Frollick, because I believe it
would be the greatest, if not the
only Diversion I should have
there, and thô I shall have all
Letters that come to me Franck,
yet those I send you will never
quit Cost, and be worth the Postage.

But at present to follow your
Method, I will so far acquaint
you with Urania, as to assure
you she is no Beauty, and therefore
is Entitled to a Masque Cum
, and to Wit, and so
ought to remain Incognito; these
are Talents (which thô my Sex
are very fond of) we know not
how to Manage, and the latter I
look upon as a Scandal, it agrees
so ill with Woman kind, that a
Curse attends it, since among all
the Celebrated Female Wits that I H12r 167
I have had any knowledg of, for
one Flash of Wit, one Notable
Flight of Fancy,
they have been
Guilty of a thousand impertinent
Foolish Actions, which Persons
of an Ordinary Capacity would
have blush’d at the thought of.
But on the other Hand I am very
Sincere even to that Degree that
I harflawed-reproductiontwo charactersp know the meaning of
the Word “Subterfuge”, and were I
what Mr ―― would have you
believe he thinks me, the Ladies
wou’d not at this time have a
Champion of me, for instead of
imploying my Pen in their Service,
I would make use of a
Sword to serve my Heroick Prince,
who Merits it from all the

I will also tell you that the
Fort of my Heart is I hope very
secure, since it is I believe Impregnable
to any but a Phenix
(if such there be) that is one endued H12v 1968
endued with my own Darling
Quality, that hates in himself,
as well as others Ingratitude, Dissimulation
and Hypocrisie; that
has a great Soul, a true Nobleness of Mind, a High Generosity, and
a World of good Humour; in
short one that will make a Sincere
Solid Friend, and not a
Whining Lover. But for the
Grave Formal Fop, that moves
by an Engine, and has that great
Care of the Serenity of his Mind
(which depends upon it) that
he dares hardly stir, lest he
should discompose his Perruque,
and Garniture; or the Fluttering
Noisy Beaux with nothing but
Snuff in their Heads, and Mercury
in their Heels, that daily
Frisk from one place to another
to be seen, and heard, till they
have haunted all the Publick
Places of Rendevous; I Abominate
them, and were I what you I1r 169
you call an “Unaccountable Animal”,
I would not to prevent Leading
Apes in Hell, Surrender to one
of these despicable Conquerors.
But at this time you know enough
of her who is

Your Servant


Let- I1v 170

A Letter.

By the same Hand.

Lent I perceive grew very
Tedious and Irksome to
you, when you were so hasty to
make a Debauch on Easter-Eve,
which deserv’d a far greater Punushment
than that you underwent;
a Mistress of yours would
be prettily serv’d that should
write Fine, Tender soft things to
so Careless a Spark, thô one so
unknown as Urania ran no great
hazard by it: However I am
glad the lost Sheep is found, of
which I have no other remembrance
than what yours has revived,
keeping no Copies of such
insignificant things as my Letters
are. I also very much Rejoycejoyce I2r 171
for several Reasons that
my Letters are not to pass thro’
your Brothers Hands, and so far
Urania and you agree; but when
you come to Plead for Dissimulation,
I own I am not so Wise or
Politick to look upon it as a Virtue,
nor will I say of Sincerity as
you do of Generosity it has been
my Vice and Punishment
, thô I
have many times smarted for my
too Rigid adhering to it; but
its opposite is so contrary to my
Nature, that should I go about
to practice it, I should do it so
awkwardly, and Ideot might perceive
my Heart, and Tongue
were at odds. Not that I would
be Guilty of such a Solecism in
good Manners, to tell Madam
, that with all her Art,
she had not fill’d up the Wrinkles
in her Face; but yet neither
would I so far Flatter her Vanity,
to make her believe she looks I2 like I2v 172
like her great Grand-Daughter
of fifteen; and as I would not
call the Young Pert Lady Foolish,
and impertinent; so on the other
Hand, I would give her no Cause
to imagine I thought her a Wit,
or that her Conversation was at
at all Pleasing or Agreeable; she
might, if she pleased, let her
Tongue run it self out of Breath
without my being concern’d one
way or other about it: It is only
those I extreamly Love whose
Virtues, or Vices affect me; and
with whom I use the Liberty to
speak freely what I think of their
Actions, Good or Bad; to all
the World, besides I am in a
State of Neutrality, and it is indifferent
to me what they do.

It is but too true, that the
Practice of the World does extreamly
Degenerate from Magnanimity,
and Nobleness of Mind,
nor will any thing I can say, alterter I3r 173
their Opinions about them,
for which Reason, and also because
I am no Philosopher, I will
not take upon me to Define
them, but only tell you that
to me, those who Live and Act,
as if they were Born only for
themselves, and if they can carry
on some little Paltry Interest
of their own, value not what
becomes of all the rest of Mankind;
and those whose Abject
Spirits will permit them to Fawn
on any Desertless thing with a
Title, or that is a little above
them, and can stoop to a thousand
little Tricks and Shifts,
thô never so Base, and mean to
Advance themselves, are the Reverse
of them; and in a Word,
whosoever is not ready to Venture,
Nay, Sacrifice his All, even
Life it self, to serve his Country
or his Friend, does not Answer
the Notion that I have of True I3 Greatness, I3v 174
Greatness, and Nobleness of Mind.

As for Good Humour, thô I do
not understand by it such a Gay
as you have Described,
yet I think, there goes something
more to the Composition of it;
than bare Good Nature, in the
common acceptation of the
Word, which is usually an Epithet
for a sort of People, a Man of
your Sense, I am certain, cannot
be very fond of being reckon’d

If I deny your Request of any
further knowledg of Urania,
it is not from any Fear of a surprize
upon my Heart, that is not
easily taken, and is at present in
very good Hands, besides not
being Mistress of those Qualifications
that must Conquer
yours, I am sure I shall never
be the Aggressor; for to be “very
, is utterly against the
Grain with me, and never will agree I4r 175
agree with my Constitution; but
you having express’d some Esteem
of me, I am very desirous
to preserve it, which I
know no better way to do, than
by still keeping you Ignorant


Let- I4v 176

A Leetter.

Upon a Disappointment.

Dear Philander,

Oour best Resolves are often
Cross’d by unexpected
Accidents, I had flatter’d my self
that this Meeting would have
Crown’d our Wishes. I flew
with all the Wings of strong
desire, to the Embraces of my
Love; and when we thought
our selves secure of Bliss, then,
then to be Interrupted by a Cruel
Relation, is a misfortune, a
Disappointment not to be indur’d
with Patience. Nor could I disguise
my Passion, or my Grief,
my Looks, my every Motion
discover’d both. But your Prudence
and Presence of Mind,
hinder’d her from observing me, and I5r 177
and consequently from discovering
the weakness of my Soul.
I hope your Tongue bely’d your
Heart in what you said to her,
thô I must confess she does deserve
it all. I would not suspect
your Truth to me, thô in
my Opinion the Calmness of
your Mind, on such an Occasion
argu’d but little Love. Your
Generosity oblig’d me in defending
the Wrong’d Innocence of
Madam N. who unfortunately
lies under the Censure of her
own Sex. Nothing can be more
unreasonable, or uncertain, than
to Judge of things barely by
appearance or report. I am sensible
she is Innocent, and Innocence
is to be prefer’d to Happiness.
My unkind Cousin knows
our mutual Love, and therefore
’twas Barbarous in her to tarry:
Neither could she be Ignorant,
that Love admits no Witnesses I5 but I5v 178
but the Lover. She told me a
while ago, that she had over
heard our Love’s Discourse.
“What tender Words, what soft
said she, “are not those
stolen Pleasures very Sweet?”
was strangely at a loss to Answer
her: Yet I told her that if
it was a Fault, ’twas such a one
as most young People were guilty
of. At first I fancy’d, that
it would be my best way to
trust her with my whole secret,
and to ingage her Secresie by a
generous Confidence. But then
again I fear’d her undermining
me; so that I resolv’d to trust
her no farther than was absolutely
necessary. And in Case her
ill Nature should incline her to
discover out Affection to the Old
Gentleman, she is sensible that
I know how to be Reveng’d of
her. In the mean time Dear
Philander trust to Love and Me for I6r 179
for a more favourable opportunity.
I saw you at Church yesterday,
where you took up all
my thoughts, and all my Devotion.
Your Dear Image fills up
all my Heart. Farewel, Let me
see you often. Love and your
Prudence will overcome all the
Difficulties that oppose our happiness.
Farewel, I die without
you, and cannot, will not Live
unless yours.

Billets I6v 180

from a
Young Lady to her Lover.

Done out of French by Mrs. M.H.

Billet I.

She desires his Heart for a
New Years Gift.

If your Heart is not dispos’d
of already, I desire you to
give it me for a New-Years- Gift; I7r 181
Gift; since it it is the only thing
that can please me from you.
If you are Master of it, oblige
me so far as to send, or bring it
to me your self; and be assur’d,
that I can put no bounds to my
acknowledgments, for a Present
that is so much Coveted by

Billet I7v 182

Billet II.

She is sorry that she was
not at home.

I am very sorry I had the Ill
Fortune of being abroad yesterday,
when you came to see
me. It is not the way to improve
the first Mark of kindness
you have given me; and if you
have the least Passion for me,
you must needs take it very Ill.
I shall never be at rest till I have
satisfi’d you about it; and it will
never be so soon as I desire it.

Billet I8r 183

Billet III.

It is Flattery to tell her
she writes well.

Ican no longer Write, since
you told me that I Wrote a
Billet pretty well. I have been
above a quarter of an hour about
this, and the more I strive
to Merit the Praise you give me,
the more I discover that I do
not deserve it. This Expression
is pretty enough: And I would
go on were I not oblig’d to acquaint
you that my Journey is
broke off. Do not think your
self oblig’d to me for it. It is
meer Chance: And I will be
sufficiently satisfied if you rejoyce
at it. Write, or Come.

Billet I8v 184

Billet IV.

She acquaints him that she
is going into the Country.

Iam considering whither I shou’d
be troubled at my not being
at home, when you came to see
me, or not. As you are of an
insupportable Humour, in all
that relates to me, I think I have
no Reason to grieve at my not
having seen you, thô I go out
of Town to morrow. It is no
matter, your Billet will supply
the want of your presence; and
thô it be not over Gallant, it is
gentiler than you are. Remember
what you promise, or rather
what you give me in it: And in
Case it be not absolutely disingag’dgag’d I9r 185
from the Person who possesses
it with less Justice than my
self, make an End of that work
during my Absence, and assure
your self, that I know very well
how to set a Value upon every
thing, and that I am incapable
of Ingratitude.

Billet I9v 186

Billet V.

To her Rival.

She will endeavour to steal .
her Lovear from her.

Ionly Write this Billet to defie
you. Who ever you are, I cannot
Love you: And thô we have
both the same design, there is no
simpathy between us. I am
Beautiful, I have a great deal of
Wit, and am very dangerous.
Therefore do not think your self
safe, althô our Judge is prejudic’d
in Favor of you. Those
who have Courage and a desire
to vanquish, seldom want the

Billet I10r 187

Billet VI.

To her Lover.

She tells him that she is
going into the Country.

To morrow I go into the
Country, with no other
regret than that of leaving you.
The person I am going to, will
not be able to make me any
amends for your Absence; And
if I have any satisfaction in
my Journey, it must be owing
to your Cares and Assiduity.
Farewell remember me, or forget
what I have promis’d you.

Billet I10v 188

Billet VII.

To the same.

Upon her not having written
to him sooner.

Do not think I have forgotten
you, thô I have not
Written to you these three Weeks.
My Heart justifies me so well
in that point, that I will not so
much as make an Excuse to you
about it: Know only that I
divert my self as much as I can
do without seeing you. I grow
very Fat, and very Beautiful. Let
Iris look to it at my return.
No Inchantments will be Proof
against my Charms. Tell her
that I allow you one Month longer
to love her, and that you will I11r 189
will Love her no longer after it.
I am not foolish enough to think
you’ll tell her this; but I am vain
enough to believe that you will
do it, as soon as you see me. I
am now looking in my Glass,
and I was never better pleas’d
with my self, Wo to all those
who shall see me this Day.

Billet I11v 190

Billet VIII

She Expresses Love and
Jealousie to him.

Tis very hard to live in one
Place, when one’s Mind
is in another! were I my own
Mistress, I would be where you
are. I have moments of melancholy
so much to your advantage,
that you must Love me
above all things in Nature if you
do me Justice. Iris disturbs my
mind more than I can express:
And I am perswaded that it is
impossible to Write Verses so
full of Passion, as those you have
made for her without a Real
Tenderness. Pray satisfie me in
this Point, or rather tell me that
you do not Love her, and speak Truth. I12r 191
Truth. I am mad to acquaint
you thus with all my Thoughts.
Let it not Raise your Vanity,
and regulate the Advantages
you ought to derive from it,
according to the measure of the
Affection you desire to have for
me. You are a Gentleman, and
I doubt not but you will behave
you self accordingly. Farewell,
do not Write to me.

Billet I12v 192

Billet IX.

She desires him to Write
Tenderly to her.

Ihave been angry with you,
for not writing to me: For
thô in so doing, you follow’d
the Order you had receiv’d from
me, a Lover should not always
obey so punctually. I easily
Pardon a bold enterprise when
the success proves agreeable.
Write to me by the Person you
know: And since I shall be yet
depriv’d of the Pleasure of seeing
you for a while, lose no opportunity
to afford me that satisfaction.
Let me find those
soft Tender, Passionate Expressions
in your Letters, which you
have so much at Command for another K1r 193
another. Deceive me, rather
than write otherwise to me, or
fancy me to be Iris while you
are writing. A Marquess of this
Country expresses some inclination
for me. But a person of
your Air and Merit can dread
no Rivals. Pages and Postillons
are Animals that cannot move
me. I will tell you all at my
Return. Farewell Dear Friend,
and yet much dearer than you
can imagine.

Billet K1v 194

Billet X.

She desires him to Write to
her about his Amours.

My Absence has almost
kill’d the Poor Marquess,
and yet it hardly moves you. I
shou’d be very glad to know
from your self, what Effect it
has upon you. But I distrust
every body; and therefore
rather than be deceiv’d I will
deprive my self of that satisfaction.
We go for ―― within these
few days, there to pas the Remainder
of this Winter. Tell
my Friend N. how you design to
pass your Carnival, and whither
your Iris, that insupportable Iris
has still the same Ascendant she
us’d to have over you. Farewel,wel, K2r 195
my Sentiments are still the
same towards you, and on all
occasion my Heart is true to you.
My very Eyes are so scrupulous
in Favor of you, that were you
present, and did Love me as
much as you ought to do, you
could have no Reason to Complain.

Billet K2v 196

Billet XI.

She thinks on nothing but
going back to him.

They talk of going back to
London, and I think on
nothing but returning where
you are. You need not question
but I will manage that design
with all that Cunning you know
Women are seldom wanting in
on those occasions, the which I
will make you sensible of at
some time or other at the Cost
of your Iris. Let her Rail
at the Innocent Stars, provided she
does not meddle with those that
shall be really Guilty of her misfortune,
I mean my Eyes, I do
not value it. I dread to hear
from you, not for fear of being
discover’d, but lest you should
not Write as I would have you.
However let not that hinder you from K3r 197
from Writing. Vex me as little
as you can: And seem to be,
what my Charms will make you.
Farewel, I daily distract the poor
Marquess, and I preserve all my
Pity for the first Torments you
shall suffer in Loving me.

Billet K3v 198

Billet XII.

She upbraids him with his
want of Gallantry.

You are the most ridiculous,
and the most insupportable
Man Living. What! can you
think me so stupid, as not to
discover your dissembling. You
do not deserve the least good
Fortune, and this is the last
time you shall hear from me.
Return all my Billets to the Person
that deliver’d them to you.
I will not come back these three
Weeks, and if I cou’d do worse
I wou’d. Are you not asham’d
to have written so dull a Letter
to me, and to use me, as you
deserve to be us’d. Unless your
Iris had a Hand in the Penningning K4r 199
of it I will never forgive you,
and that only can any wise excuse
you. Do not fail to let me
know the Truth of it: Or rather
make use of the means I
give you to justifie your self to
me; and do not give me Cause
to hate you with Justice.

Billet K4v 200

Billet XIII.

She desires a Tender Letter
from him.

Nothing can equal the Cruelty
of my Fate. We are
going from ―― without returning
for London, and we are going
to see Places which upon your
Account will seem Horrid Desarts
to me. I am so strangely
mortify’d at this misfortune, that
you wou’d hardly know me again;
and unless you write something
to please me, I shall not be able
to bear it. Altho I venture all
in receiving your Letters, I do
not matter it. I suffer already
all the harm it can do me. I can
no longer fear any Danger, but I K5r 201
I expect a great deal of Joy.
Let them be long, without any
Equivocations, Passionate, and
Worthy of a Person who only
suffers for your sake. Farewel, I
dread a surprise.

Billet K5v 202

Billet XIV.

She gives him an Account
of her Life.

You only desire a Billet from
me. Here it is. But the
Spirit of Gallantry is lost,. Where
there is no Gallant. However
I am lik’d by a thousand Persons,
that displease me. A Purling
Brook sliding softly through
a solitary Wood, is the only
Object that has the least Charm
for me; that and the Dear
thoughts of Cruel you, makes
me pass some agreeable Hours.
This is the Life I lead. You
give me no Account of yours.
But I will not upbraid your Conduct.
My Vengeance lies in your Crime. K6r 203
Crime. It will be as lasting as
it, and I have more Reason to
Pity than to hate you. I think
you are unhappy enough, in having
made your self unworthy of
my Love.

Let- K6v 204


Upon Absence and Forgetfulness.

How wretched is my Fate!
I had flatter’d my self that
I shou’d hear from you every
Post; that the softness of your
Letters, the reiterated assurances
of your Fidelity, and the hopes
of your speedy return, wou’d
help me to bear the Cruelty of
an Absence, which to me is worse
than Death it self. Judging of
your sentiments by my own, and
by the Anguish I observ’d in
your Looks at parting, I prepar’d
my self to suffer no less for you,
than for my self; Nay more, the
very Idea of your sufferings made
me almost insensible to my own:
But your Cruel silence has eas’d
me of the first, to lay a greater
weight upon the last. I have not K7r 205
not receiv’d one Letter from you
since your departure, thô I have
often written to you; and am
inform’d that you think on nothing
but Divertisements at the
Hague, while I consume my self
in Fruitless Sorrows here. Ungrateful!
is it possible that the
most Violent Passion that ever
was, shou’d make no more Impression
on your Mind. What
Injury had I, or any of mine ever
done you, to make you apply
your self so industriously, and
with so much earnestness to make
me the most unfortunate Woman
living. I am now sensible, that
you never really Lov’d me, and
that you aim’d at nothing but
my Ruin. Ah! your Vows,
your Oaths, feign’d Tears, Sighs
and Languishing were only
Snares to catch my unwary
Heart on purpose to undo me. You
only valu’d my Passion as a Victory.ctory. K7v 206
It pleas’d your Pride, but
never mov’d your Heart. I find
too late, that you do not know
what it is to Love; otherwise
you wou’d be sensible that the
Pleasure of a mutual Passion, is
infinitely to be prefer’d to the satisfaction
of deceiving a fond
Credulous Woman. From a very
happy Condition, if there be
any real Happiness in indifference,
you have reduc’d me to
the most deplorable in Nature,
I am all Despair, Torture, and distraction.
Sometimes I wish I
had never seen you, but then I
soon repent that wish, and hate
my self for it: No, I was born
to Love you, and in spite of all
your Falseness and Ingratitude I
had much rather suffer in loving
you, than to be happy with my
former Indifference. I have not
had one moments Rest or Health
since your Departure. ’Tis now the K8r 207
the deadest time of Night; all
Nature’s Calm while I am in
perpetual Anguish and Agitation.
Why did you pitch on me to
make me so unhappy? You
might easily have found out
other Women more Beautiful,
and fitter for your purpose,
since you aim’d at nothing but
brutal Pleasures, Women who
wou’d have been as base and as
inconstant as your self, whom
might have forsaken without
Cruelty. But your proceeding
is Barbarous towards a Woman
that Adores you and dyes for you.
Tho I know you are false I strive
as much as I can to deceive my
self, to excuse you. Sure you
must needs pity me, but I scorn
your pity; nothing but your
Heart can make me Happy, neither
wou’d I owe it to any tohing
but your own inclination. Had
your proceeding been as Cold when K8v 208
when first I saw you, as I find
it now, you wou’d have sav’d
me many Sighs and Tears. Your
Assiduities engag’d my Heart,
your Transports inflam’d me,
your Behaviour Charm’d my very
Soul, your Oaths and Vows
perswaded me, and my own Inclination
seduc’d me; I abandon’d
my self wholly to my Passion,
and thought on nothing
but my Love. I still Love you
a thousand times more than my
Life; yet my Heart, my Weak
Heart which scorns your Baseness,
Adores your Person still.
Farewel, ’tis harder for me to
end my Letter, than it was for
you to leave me. Do not write
to me, yet do, it will be a kind
of Pleasure to be deluded by you.
I am distracted and know not
what to wish. Thô you have
undone me I wish for no Revenge.
Live happy, if you can, and K9r 209
and forget me least the memory of
my Passion, and my wrongs
shou’d disturb your quiet. I
will endeavour to do the same,
and methinks I love you less already.
I find a thousand Imperfections
in you, I had never observ’d
before. I am sensible that
you are Unworthy of my Love;
yet I will never hate you. I do
not desire to know the success of
this Letter, do not disturb my
growing quiet. I Rave, my Passion
distracts my Mind. My
Love depends no longer, on the
manner of your behaviour. It
is my Fate to Love, and to Dye
for you.

My K9v 210

My Lady T―― Picture.


Tho I am not capable to
give you a true Description
of the Lovely Person your
Brother is a going to Marry, I
will endeavour to satisfie your
Curiousity, and to wrong her as
little as I can. Her Air is great
and Noble, accompany’d with a
most Charming Sweetness, her
Features very Regular, the turn
of her Face is incomparable:
Her Mouth is none of the least
but very well form’d, and her
Lips of the finest Red in Nature;
her Teeth are very White and
Even; her Eyes are Black and
Sprightly, and ’tis very difficult
to resist their Glances: Her Nose
has a certain turn that is altogether
Charming; her Complexion is K10r 211
is beyond all Comparison, ’tis a
mixture of such White and Red,
as no Painter cou’d ever imitate.
And the whole is attended with
a certain Charm for which we
want a Name. Her Hair is of a
Light Brown, and she has abundance
of it. Her Neck is an
abstract of perfections. Her
Arms and Hands are answerable
to the Rest. She is Tall, and her
shape Majestick and Easie, she is
more inclinable to Fat than Lean;
her Gate, her Air, her every
motion Charms. Her Soul is
very well suited to so fine a Body:
She is naturally Generous
and Obliging. She Loves her
Friends to excess: She is Civil
to all People, free from all manner
of Affectation. She has a
very agreeable even Temper.
Her Judgment is great and Solid.
Her Conversation Easie and Witty.
She is very Constant, and never K10v 212
never betrays the Secrets of her
Friends. She Loves Musick and
Poetry, and Judges very well of
both. In a Word she has more
of the Angel than of a Mortal
Creature in her. None can approach
her without Adoring her,
thô at the same time she has a
Reservedness that discourages all
her Lovers. I am sensible that
this Description will call my
Skill in question; but I have my
End, provided it convinces you
of the Respect and Submission
wherewith I am.

Advice K11r 213

Advice to a Friend that was
going to Marry.

Tho I approve your Resolution
of Marrying, which
is a thing most, or all of us are
fond of, what ever we may pretend,
I must be Ingenious with
you, and as a Friend tell you
that I cannot like your Choice;
not but Philander is a pretty
Gentleman enough as the World
goes, Young, Handsom and
Gay; Sings, Dances, Dresses,
&c. all which Qualifications are
very taking with the Ladies in
this Age. Solidity, Wit, Judgment
and Discretion, are Virtues
out of Date. Nay, on my Conscience
I believe he Loves you
too above all things, next to his
dear pretty self, and that his
Passion may chance to last as long K11v 214
long as your Mony. But then
again, as all Men are a Compound
of Good and Ill, be
pleas’d to consider that he is very
Proud thô very Poor, a Curse
that generally attends Poverty,
Affecting a certain Air of Quality,
that will hardly suit with
your Fortune, which is sufficient
to make an honest Country Gentlemen
Happy, but will hardly
suffice for the Garniture and other
ingredients that are requisite
towards the maintenance of
a Beau. His Pride and Vanity
will soon consume your Fortune,
and you will find his Passion of
no longer Date than it. Believe
me who have some Experience
in those Affairs, Love and Want
are inconsistent, and whatever
Notions of Bliss we may Form
to our selves, there is no
Real Happiness without Ease.
That Gayry, Mirth, Good Humor,mour, K12r 215
and Complaisance; those
Sighs, those Raptures, those
Transports that Charm us in a
Lover, vanish as soon as he assumes
the Husband. Love delights
in Joy and Plenty, and
consequently is a Mortal Enemy
to Want and Sadness. His
House being uneasie to him, he
will fly it like the Plague, and
seek for his accustomed Pleasures
abroad, while you remain comfortless
at home, to Curse your
Fate, and the fondness that betray’d
you to it. Secondly I
am inform’d that he is most horribly
given to Jealousie, as most
Beaux are, a Plague that will
prove a Hell on Earth to you.
You who are Young, Beautiful
and Witty, who delight and have
been Bred in Company, who are
of a Chearful, Free Temper, to
have all your Actions, Nay,
your very looks controul’d, your Virtue K12v 216
Virtue question’d, not dare to
speak, or smile, for fear of Offending
your dear Spouse, and
of making his Empty Noddle
Ake, will prove a Torment to
you worse than Death its self.
Then the Ill, Cross, surly Temper
that attends that meagre
Fiend, will soon give you too
much Cause to Repent your Ill
plac’d Love: You will not know
one hour of Joy; your Nights
and Days will be a continu’d
Scene of Woe. Therefore Dear
Friend, consider well before you
ingage your self for ever; Matrimony
is a Terrible Apprentiship,
unless attended with Ease and
Plenty, and free from the Curse
of Jealousie. Preserve your Liberty
a little longer, and do not
part with it without a valuable
Consideration. Better gnaw your
Sheets a while, than to have
Cause to Curse for ever. I have made L1r 217
made a Terrible Experiment of
it. I Marry’d my first Husband,
a Spark of Philander’s Character,
for Love, without my Friends
consent; but his unkindness after
he had made me his, thô before
he Swore he lov’d me above all
Earthly Joys, soon Cur’d me of
that Love, but still the Clog remain’d.
Heaven in pity of my
Youth and Sufferings deliver’d
me of my Tyrant. He being
Dead, my Friends prevail’d with
me to enter into the Bonds again,
and Marry’d me to one I had
neither Affection, nor Aversion
for, whose Generosity and good
Nature, after he had Marry’d
me, soon gain’d my Heart, and
oblig’d me to Love him far more
than e’re I did the first; and I
now think my self the Happiest
Woman Living. I wou’d not
have you Marry absolutely for
Wealth, neither wou’d I advise L you L1v 218
you to follow your Inclination
blindly, they are two dangerous
Rocks equally to be avoided.
Chuse a Man of Honor, Sense
and Judgment, one of a Fortune
Answerable to your own, since
yours alone is not sufficient to
make you both happy. Suffer
not your self to be lead away by
Raw Youth, Flashy Wit, Dressing,
Cringing, Bowing, &c.
Fools love nothing but themselves,
and do not know how to
place a true value on Merit and
Beauty; and above all avoid the
Curse of Jealousie. A little touch
of Jealousie in a Lover is not amiss,
it often serves to revive a
dying Flame, but ’tis the Bane of
Marriage. Farewel, once more
consider before it is too late, and
suffer not your self to be undone
by an inconsiderate Inclination.

I L2r

A Letter.

To a Gentleman upon the Report of
his going to be Marry’d.

Ido not in the least question
but this Letter will surprise
you as much, as the Report of
your New Ingagement with
N―― has amaz’d me. I cou’d
never have thought that a Man
of your Wit and Experience
cou’d have given over a Suit, on
which you pretended all the future
Happiness of your Life depended,
for one Refusal. You are
too well acquainted with our Sex
not to know, that Custom has
introduc’d a Maxim among us,
to seem averse to what we most
desire, for fear of being deceiv’d
by a feign’d Passion, which most
of you are but too guilty of, or
of losing your Esteem by discovering
our Weakness, or InclinationL2 tion L2v 220
too soon. Why, Oh! why
do you reduce us to those streights
by your Dissembling? Yet our
Eyes those faithful Ministers of
the Soul, inform you but too
sincerely that our Words and
Thoughts are not the same.
Surely you did not give your
self the trouble to Examin mine,
when I seemingly refus’d a Heart,
which gave it self too fast: They
wou’d have told you, that your
Words made all the Impression
you cou’d, Nay, I fear more
than you did desire, upon my
Soul. My denial was so faint,
and spoke in such a Tone, that
it was evident I did not desire
to be believ’d. I am but too sensible
that we spoke both distant
from our Hearts, I in refusing,
you in pretending a Passion that
was only in your Words. Had
it been Rooted in your Heart,
you wou’d have persisted in it; you L3r 221
you wou’d have flatter’d your
self that my avoiding you, after
the Declaration you had made
to me, was only an effect of
Modesty: You wou’d have convinc’d
me by your perseverence,
and assiduity, that you truly
lov’d me; that wou’d soon have
disarm’d me of my Coyness, and
all those little Arts which you injustly
Tax us with, since you
force us to use them. Your
want of Sincerity, and Generosity
imposes this Constraint upon
us, which is now so generally
practis’d, that you dislike those
who do not affect it. Why then,
Oh! Why did you believe me?
Or rather, why did I Credit
you? My Heart, my fond Heart,
betray’d me to it. I thought
that a Man who Soars so high
above the Common Level of
Mankind, cou’d never be guilty
of the least Imperfection, much L3 less L3v 222
less of Dissimulation, which is
one of the worst. I had form’d
an Idea to my self of your
Worth, not to be equall’d on this
side Heaven. Your Eyes had
often told me that you lov’d me
and I credited them, because I
wished it, and suck’d in the Poison
greedily; Ah! why did you
not examin mine as carefully.
I did deny indeed, but it was
only to have the satisfaction to
hear you confirm your Vows,
and to have a better pretence to
yeild my too willing Heart. But
oh! what can equal my astonishment,
when at my return from
the Country, having Vanquish’d
all the Scruples that had hitherto
hinder’d me from avowing the
Conquest you had made over me;
I was inform’d that you were
going to Marry, if you were not
already Marry’d to the too happy
N―― Nothing can; neither will L4r 223
will I endeavour it. But I cannot
forbear acquainting you with
the Extremity of my Grief, thô
I fear it will make but little impression
on you. Judge Cruel,
Judge of its Violence by the Effects
of it. Nothing but absolute
despair cou’d force me, thus to
pass the bounds of Modesty, to
tell you that if you proceed in
this Fatal Marriage I Dye. Nor
can my Rival pretend a better
Title to the Happiness you design
her than my self. I lov’d
you first; my Birth, my Fortune,
Beauty and the Violence of my
Passion, claim the Precedency;
nor can you without the highest
Ingratitude refuse to do me Justice.
Not that I wou’d anticipate
on any others Right; No,
I wou’d dye first; but if you be
not too far ingag’d: Remember
that you have given me your
Heart, and that I claim it as my due. L4v 224
due. Remember too, that my
Life’s at stake. But I begin to
Rave. Farewel, acquaint me
with my Doom, I can no longer
bear the Racks of Incertainty.
Deal ingeniously with me, my
Love deserves it, and fear not
my Revenge. If you be Marry’d,
or pass’d retracting; I will
seclude my self for ever from the
World, and leave my happy Rival
bless’d in the Heavens of
your Embraces.

To L5r 225


An Answer to one of the foregoing

What need I prosecute my
Suit, since it matters
not whither I succeed in it, or
not? the Generous Nerea assures
me that tho I shou’d lose it, she
wou’d notwithstanding accept
me for her Husband. Let us fly
the tedious debates of Law, and
Renounce Fortune to satisfie the
desires of Love. It is a thought
my Dear Nerea which often offers
it self to my mind, and that
sometimes presses me with so
much urgency, that I am upon
the point of coming away and
abandoning all; but I am stopt
by a second Reflection. Is it
reasonable that her Generosity
shou’d hinder her from being
happy? That after having offer’d
her a Lover without Merit, I L5 shou’d L5v 226
shou’d offer her a Husband without
Fortune? and that instead
of indeavouring to plaece her in
a Condition not altogether unworthy
of her Birth and Virtue,
I shou’d abandon the only hope
Fortune offers to make her happy.
This second thought stops
me Dear Nerea, and makes me
resolve to prosecute my Suit;
But yet tho I have reason to expect
a happy Issue of it; I Sigh
continually, and I am Unfortunate
since I am absent from

To L6r 227

To a
Youth of Fourteen;
by a
Young Lady.

When God to punish man his Thunder

The dreadfuul noise taught us to fear th’evoent,

And carefully the mischief to prevent:

Sickness Deaths slower Messenger declares

Him near, and for the Wound our mind prepares;

And all these Engines to procure our Fate,

Fram’d by th’ ingenious Curelty of hate,

Before they kill do oft our danger show;

Nature instructs us to avoid the blow.

Thou only Charming Youth by Fate design’d

The sure Destruction of all Womankind;

Without Resistance may’st thy Power employ,

And unsuspected safely may’st destroy:

For who can think such fatal Poyson lyes,

In those soft blooming Cheeks and lovely Eyes?

O L6v 228

Or how can we the sudden Mischief shun,

When every Maid is at first sight undone?

But oh! so pleasingly that tho we knew

Our Ruin we that Ruin wou’d persue;

For who ingloriously from Heav’n wou’d Fly,

Tho in th’ attempt t’ attain it sure to dye;

Yet a more gentle Fate’s reserv’d for me,

If I my dearest Boy can ought foresee,

Yes, tho you lately said you wou’d not Love,

No Beauty e’re your guarded heart should

Ev’n then the Enemy was enter’d there,

And seiz’d you, tho you thought no Foe was

Say else, what meant that dying Look and

When you to Dance made me your joyful choice?

Say what that whisper in the middle broke,

The Rest in Kisses on my Neck was spoke;

And what can that Officious Care inspire,

To serve me more than breeding does require?

It must be love―― yet how can you but know,

What you create each hour where e’re you go,

Or have you learnt so early to deceive,

And only wou’d have me your Love perceive?

We need my Child no such Disguises now,

A while we may our Youthful Flame avow;

Our Innocence secures us, but alas,

Thy Ripening years come on a hasty pace:

Then you must at an humble distance sue,

And I must seem to scorn what now I Woe:

Yet L7r 229

Yet sure impartial men wou’d me excuse,

If I shou’d less disdain, less Rigour’s use,

Than other Virgins to their Lovers show;

For none had ever one so fair as you;

And those ungenerous Laws were made alone,

For such whose Ill made choice they blush’d to

Whilst they more meanly yield on importunity,

Thy Worth absolves me friom the Tyranny.

To pay Religious Vows all Men agree,

To Creatures is a foul Idolatry:

But no flawed-reproductiontwo charactersss Sin t’omit ’em where they’re due,

Worship to Heav’n we owe all hearts to you.

The End of the First Part.



That Famous Powder, called
Arcanum Magnum, formerly
Prepared by the Learned Riverius,
Physician Regent to the French King;
and approved by most Persons of
Quality in Christendom, for Preserving
and Beautifying the Face, even
to Old Age: It Cures Red Faces;
Morphew; it prevents, and takes
away Supcaerfluous Hair growing on
the Face: In short it adds more
Lustre and Beauty than any Powder
or Wash known, as man)y Persons in
Quality can Testsifie, who daily use it
with the greatest Approbation. It is
prepared only by J. H. Doctor in Physick,
in great Knight Rider-street
near Doctors-Commons-Gate, a
Blew Ball being over the Door where
it may be had for 2 s. 6 d. the Paper
with Directions for its Use.


A Catalogue of Books, some
of them Newly Printed
for Sam Briscoe over
against Will’s Coffee-
House- in Russel-Street,
in Coven-Garden.

  • The History of
    Polybius the
    Megalapolitan, containing a
    general Account of the Transactions
    of the World, and principally
    of the Roman People, during
    the First and Second Punick
    Wars with Maps: describing the
    Places where the most considerable
    Engagements and Battles
    were Fought, both by Sea and
    Land: Also an Account of their Policies L8v
    Policies and Stratagems of
    War, of the Antient Romans,
    in Conquering the greatest Part
    of the then known World in Fifty
    three years: Translated by
    Sir H. S. to which is added, a
    Character of Polybius and his
    Writings: By Mr. Dryden, in
    two Volumes. Octav.octavio Price
    10 s.
  • The Lives of the twelve sars
    the first Emperors of Rome.
    Written in Latin by C. Suetonius
    . Translated into English
    by several Eminent Hands,
    with the Heads of the Emperors
    on Copper Plates.
  • Advice to a Young Lord,
    Written by his Father, under
    these following Heads, Viz. Religion,
    and Exercise, Travel,
    Marriage, House-keeping, Hospitality,
    of the Court, of Friendship, of
    Pleasure and Idleness of Conversation.
  • The L9r
  • The Art of Heraldy, in two
    Parts. The first containing (in
    a Concise, but Methodical Method,
    by Rules and Explanations
    of Bearings) the Body of Heraldy,
    the ssecond Honour Civil and
    Military, being a Treatise of the
    Nobility and Gentry of England,
    as to their Priviledges and
    Dignities, &c. according to the
    Laws and Customs of our Realm.
    The whole Illustrated with variety
    of apt and proper Sculptures
    for the better Explanation
    thereof. The Second Edition.
  • Aristotle’s Rhetorick, or the
    true Grounds and Principles of
    of Oratory, shewing the Right
    Art of Pleading and Speaking in
    full Assemblies and Courts of
    Judicature. In four Books, second
  • The Religious Stoick: Or, a
    short Discourse on several Subjects,
    Viz. Of Atheism, Superstition,stition, L9v
    the World’s Creation
    Eternity, Providence, Theology,
    Strictness of Churches, of
    the Scriptures, of the Moral and
    Judaical Law, of Monsters, of
    Man and his Creation, of the
    Immortality of the Soul, of
    Faith and Reason, of the Fall
    Angels, and what their Sin was,
    of Mans Fall, of the Stile of Genesis,
    why Man fell, with a Refutation
    of the Millinaries, with
    a Friendly Address to the Fanaticks
    of all Sexcts and Sorts.
    The Second Edition, by Sir George
  • A Moral Essay, preferring Solitude
    to Publick Employment,
    and all its Appanages, such as
    Fame, Command, Riches, Pleasures,
    Conversation, By Sir George
    , second Edition.
  • Jovial Poems and Songs by
    several Hands.
  • Ovid’s L10r
  • Ovid’s Epistles, Translated by
    several Hands, Adorned with
  • Physical and Mathematical
    Memoirs. Written at the Royal
    Academy of Paris.
  • The Gallant Siege of Mentz,
    or the German Hero, a Novel.
  • Female Cuckold, or London
    Jilt. A Gallant Novel, by Alexhander
    , Gent.


  • Sophonisha: Or, Hanibal’s Overthrow.
    A Tragedy, by Mr.
  • Love for Money, or the Boarding-School.
    By Mr. Durfey.
  • Marriage-Hater Match’d. A
    Comedy, by Mr,. Durfey.
  • Richmond Heirisse, or a Woman
    once in the Right. A Comedy,
    by Mr. Durfey.
  • Wive’s L10v
  • Wive’s Excuse: Or, Cuckolds
    make themselves. A Comedy
    with a Copy of Verses to the
    Author, by Mr. Dryden.
  • Traytor, a Tragedy: Written
    by Mr. Rivers.
  • True Widow a Comedy, by
    Mr. Tho. Shadwell: Corrected and
    amended by Sir Charles Sidley,
  • There is in the Press, and will
    be speedily Publish’d, the last New
    Comedy, call’d a Very good Wife.
Where you may be furnished with
most sorts of Plays.
L11r L11v