Letter I.

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
Madam,” (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.” What
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 consider
si 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 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
him?” “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

Letter III.

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 Charming’st 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
please:” “If you will be in a Hackney
Coach then, at Five a Clock by Covent-
Garden 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

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
to my Lord――He is a very well
Accomplish’d Gentleman, and has a
good Estate, I wish he were Married to
Olinda.” “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
imagine.” 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
two,” 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;” (for
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
her.” 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

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
God,” 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?” interrupted
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.” “You
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
it.” “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,
Madam?” 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

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.