Chapter VII: Part II (1)

At the end of the first part of these letters, we left _Philander_ impatiently waiting on the sea-shore for the approach of the lovely _Sylvia_; who accordingly came to him dressed like a youth, to secure herself from a discovery. They stayed not long to caress each other, but he taking the welcome maid in his arms, with a transported joy bore her to a small vessel, that lay ready near the beach; where, with only _Brilliard_ and two men servants, they put to sea, and passed into _Holland_, landing at the nearest port; where, after having refreshed themselves for two or three days, they passed forwards towards the _Brill_, _Sylvia_ still remaining under that amiable disguise: but in their passage from town to town, which is sometimes by coach, and other times by boat, they chanced one day to encounter a young _Hollander_ of a more than ordinary gallantry for that country, so degenerate from good manners, and almost common civility, and so far short of all the good qualities that made themselves appear in this young nobleman. He was very handsome, well made, well dressed, and very well attended; and whom we will call _Octavio_, and who, young as he was, was one of the _States_ of _Holland_; he spoke admirable good _French_, and had a vivacity and quickness of wit unusual with the natives of that part of the world, and almost above all the rest of his sex: _Philander_ and _Sylvia_ having already agreed for the cabin of the vessel that was to carry them to the next stage, _Octavio_ came too late to have any place there but amongst the common crowd; which the master of the vessel, who knew him, was much troubled at, and addressed himself as civilly as he could to _Philander_, to beg permission for one stranger of quality to dispose of himself in the cabin for that day: _Philander_ being well enough pleased, so to make an acquaintance with some of power of that country, readily consented; and _Octavio_ entered with an address so graceful and obliging, that at first sight he inclined _Philander_’., heart to a friendship with him; and on the other side the lovely person of _Philander_, the quality that appeared in his face and mien, obliged _Octavio_ to become no less his admirer. But when he saluted _Sylvia_, who appeared to him a youth of quality, he was extremely charmed with her pretty gaiety, and an unusual air and life in her address and motion; he felt a secret joy and pleasure play about his soul, he knew not why, and was almost angry, that he felt such an emotion for a youth, though the most lovely that he ever saw. After the first compliments, they fell into discourse of a thousand indifferent things, and if he were pleased at first sight with the two lovers, he was wholly charmed by their conversation, especially that of the amiable youth; who well enough pleased with the young stranger, or else hitherto having met nothing so accomplished in her short travels; and indeed despairing to meet any such; she put on all her gaiety and charms of wit, and made as absolute a conquest as it was possible for her supposed sex to do over a man, who was a great admirer of the other; and surely the lovely maid never appeared so charming and desirable as that day; they dined together in the cabin; and after dinner reposed on little mattresses by each other’s side, where every motion, every limb, as carelessly she lay, discovered a thousand graces, and more and more enflamed the now beginning lover; she could not move, nor smile, nor speak, nor order any charm about her, but had some peculiar grace that began to make him uneasy; and from a thousand little modesties, both in her blushes and motions, he had a secret hope she was not what she seemed, but of that sex whereof she discovered so many softnesses and beauties; though to what advantage that hope would amount to his repose, was yet a disquiet he had not considered nor felt: nor could he by any fondness between them, or indiscretion of love, conceive how the lovely strangers were allied; he only hoped, and had no thoughts of fear, or any thing that could check his new beginning flame. While thus they passed the afternoon, they asked a thousand questions, of lovers, of the country and manners, and their security and civility to strangers; to all which _Octavio_ answered as a man, who would recommend the place and persons purely to oblige their stay; for now self-interest makes him say all things in favour of it; and of his own friendship, offers them all the service of a man in power, and who could make an interest in those that had more than himself; much he protested, much he offered, and yet no more than he designed to make good on all occasions, which they received with an acknowledgement that plainly discovered a generosity and quality above the common rate of men; so that finding in each other occasions for love and friendship, they mutually professed it, and nobly entertained it. _Octavio_ told his name and quality, left nothing unsaid that might confirm the lovers of his sincerity. This begot a confidence in _Philander_, who in return told him so much of his circumstances, as sufficed to let him know he was a person so unfortunate to have occasioned the displeasure of his king against him, and that he could not continue with any repose in that kingdom, whose monarch thought him no longer fit for those honours he had before received: _Octavio_ renewed his protestations of serving him with his interest and fortune, which the other receiving with all the gallant modesty of an unfortunate man, they came ashore, where _Octavio_’. coaches and equipage waiting his coming to conduct him to his house, he offered his new friends the best of them to carry them to their lodging, which he had often pressed might be his own palace; but that being refused as too great an honour, he would himself see them placed in some one, which he thought might be most suitable to their quality; they excused the trouble, but he pressed too eagerly to be denied, and he conducted them to a merchant’s house not far from his own, so love had contrived for the better management of this new affair of his heart, which he resolved to pursue, be the fair object of what sex soever: but after having well enough recommended them to the care of the merchant, he thought it justice to leave them to their rest, though with abundance of reluctancy; so took his leave of both the lovely strangers, and went to his own home. And after a hasty supper got himself up to bed: not to sleep; for now he had other business: love took him now to task, and asked his heart a thousand questions. Then it was he found the idea of that fair unknown had absolute possession there: nor was he at all displeased to find he was a captive; his youth and quality promise his hopes a thousand advantages above all other men: but when he reflected on the beauty of Philander, on his charming youth and conversation, and every grace that adorns a conqueror, he grew inflamed, disordered, restless, angry, and out of love with his own attractions; considered every beauty of his own person, and found them, or at least thought them infinitely short of those of his now fancied rival; yet it was a rival that he could not hate, nor did his passion abate one thought of his friendship for Philander, but rather more increased it, insomuch that he once resolved it should surmount his love if possible, at least he left it on the upper-hand, till time should make a better discovery. When tired with thought we’ll suppose him asleep, and see how our lovers fared; who being lodged all on one stair-case (that is, Philander, Sylvia, and Brilliard) it was not hard for the lover to steal into the longing arms of the expecting _Sylvia_; no fatigues of tedious journeys, and little voyages, had abated her fondness, or his vigour; the night was like the first, all joy! All transport! _Brilliard_ lay so near as to be a witness to all their sighs of love, and little soft murmurs, who now began from a servant to be permitted as an humble companion; since he had had the honour of being married to _Sylvia_, though yet he durst not lift his eyes or thoughts that way; yet it might be perceived he was melancholy and sullen whenever he saw their dalliances; nor could he know the joys his lord nightly stole, without an impatience, which, if but minded or known, perhaps had cost him his life. He began, from the thoughts she was his wife, to fancy fine enjoyment, to fancy authority which he durst not assume, and often wished his lord would grow cold, as possessing lovers do, that then he might advance his hope, when he should even abandon or slight her: he could not see her kissed without blushing with resentment; but if he has assisted to undress him for her bed, he was ready to die with anger, and would grow sick, and leave the office to himself: he could not see her naked charms, her arms stretched out to receive a lover, with impatient joy, without madness; to see her clasp him fast, when he threw himself into her soft, white bosom, and smother him with kisses: no, he could not bear it now, and almost lost his respect when he beheld it, and grew saucy unperceived. And it was in vain that he looked back upon the reward he had to stand for that necessary cypher a husband. In vain he considered the reasons why, and the occasion wherefore; he now seeks precedents of usurped dominion, and thinks she is his wife, and has forgot that he is her creature, and _Philander_’. vassal. These thoughts disturbed him all the night, and a certain jealousy, or rather curiosity to listen to every motion of the lovers, while they were employed after a different manner.

Next day it was debated what was best to be done, as to their conduct in that place; or whether _Sylvia_ should yet own her sex or not; but she, pleased with the cavalier in herself, begged she might live under that disguise, which indeed gave her a thousand charms to those which nature had already bestowed on her sex; and Philander was well enough pleased she should continue in that agreeable dress, which did not only add to her beauty, but gave her a thousand little privileges, which otherwise would have been denied to women, though in a country of much freedom. Every day she appeared in the Tour, she failed not to make a conquest on some unguarded heart of the fair sex: not was it long ere she received _billets-doux_ from many of the most accomplished who could speak and write _French_. This gave them a pleasure in the midst of her unlucky exile, and she failed not to boast her conquests to Octavio, who every day gave all his hours to love, under the disguise of friendship, and every day received new wounds, both from her conversation and beauty, and every day confirmed him more in his first belief, that she was a woman; and that confirmed his love. But still he took care to hide his passion with a gallantry, that was natural to him, and to very few besides; and he managed his eyes, which were always full of love, so equally to both, that when he was soft and fond it appeared more his natural humour, than from any particular cause. And that you may believe that all the arts of gallantry, and graces of good management were more peculiarly his than another’s, his race was illustrious, being descended from that of the Princes of _Orange_, and great birth will shine through, and shew itself in spite of education and obscurity: but _Octavio_ had all those additions that render a man truly great and brave; and this is the character of him that was next undone by our unfortunate and fatal beauty. At this rate for some time they lived thus disguised under feigned names, _Octavio_ omitting nothing that might oblige them in the highest degree, and hardly any thing was talked of but the new and beautiful strangers, whose conquests in all places over the ladies are well worthy, both for their rarity and comedy, to be related entirely by themselves in a novel. _Octavio_ saw every day with abundance of pleasure the little revenges of love, on those women’s hearts who had made before little conquests over him, and strove by all the gay presents he made a young _Fillmond_ (for so they called _Sylvia_,) to make him appear unresistible to the ladies; and while _Sylvia_ gave them new wounds, _Octavio_ failed not to receive them too among the crowd, till at last he became a confirmed slave, to the lovely unknown; and that which was yet more strange, she captivated the men no less than the women, who often gave her _serenades_ under her window, with songs fitted to the courtship of a boy, all which added to their diversion: but fortune had smiled long enough, and now grew weary of obliging, she was resolved to undeceive both sexes, and let them see the errors of their love; for _Sylvia_ fell into a fever so violent, that _Philander_ no longer hoped for her recovery, insomuch that she was obliged to own her sex, and take women servants out of decency. This made the first discovery of who and what they were, and for which every body languished under a secret grief. But _Octavio_, who now was not only confirmed she was a woman, but that she was neither wife to _Philander_, nor could in almost all possibility ever be so; that she was his mistress, gave him hope that she might one day as well be conquered by him; and he found her youth, her beauty, and her quality, merited all his pains of lavish courtship. And now there remains no more than the fear of her dying to oblige him immediately to a discovery of his passion, too violent now by his new hope to be longer concealed, but decency forbids he should now pursue the dear design; he waited and made vows for her recovery; visited her, and found _Philander_ the most deplorable object that despair and love could render him, who lay eternally weeping on her bed, and no counsel or persuasion could remove him thence; but if by chance they made him sensible it was for her repose, he would depart to ease his mind by new torments, he would rave and tear his delicate hair, sigh and weep upon _Octavio_’. bosom, and a thousand times begin to unfold the story, already known to the generous rival; despair, and hopes of pity from him, made him utter all: and one day, when by the advice of the physician he was forced to quit the chamber to give her rest, he carried _Octavio_ to his own, and told him from the beginning, all the story of his love with the charming _Sylvia_, and with it all the story of his fate: _Octavio_ sighing (though glad of the opportunity) told him his affairs were already but too well known, and that he feared his safety from that discovery, since the States had obliged themselves to harbour no declared enemy to the _French_ King. At this news our young unfortunate shewed a resentment that was so moving, that even _Octavio_, who felt a secret joy at the thoughts of his departure, could no longer refrain from pity and tenderness, even to a wish that he were less unhappy, and never to part from _Sylvia_: but love soon grew again triumphant in his heart, and all he could say was, that he would afford him the aids of all his power in this encounter; which, with the acknowledgements of a lover, whose life depended on it, he received, and parted with him, who went to learn what was decreed in Council concerning him. While _Philander_ returned to _Sylvia_, the most dejected lover that ever fate produced, when he had not sighed away above an hour, but received a billet by _Octavio_’. page from his lord; he went to his own apartment to read it, fearing it might contain something too sad for him to be able to hold his temper at the reading of, and which would infallibly have disturbed the repose of _Sylvia_, who shared in every cruel thought of _Philander_’.: when he was alone he opened it, and read this.

OCTAVIO _to_ PHILANDER.

_My Lord_,

I had rather die than be the ungrateful messenger of news, which I am sensible will prove too fatal to you, and which will be best expressed in fewest words: it is decreed that you must retire from the United Provinces in four and twenty hours, if you will save a life that is dear to me and _Sylvia_, there being no other security against your being rendered up to the King of _France_. Support it well, and hope all things from the assistance of your

OCTAVIO.

_From the Council, Wednesday_.

_Philander_ having finished the reading of this, remained a while wholly without life or motion, when coming to himself, he sighed and cried,--’Why--farewell trifling life--if of the two extremes one must be chosen, rather than I’ll abandon _Sylvia_, I’ll stay and be delivered up a victim to incensed _France_--It is but a life--at best I never valued thee--and now I scorn to preserve thee at the price of _Sylvia_’. tears!’ Then taking a hasty turn or two about his chamber, he pausing cried,--’But by my stay I ruin both _Sylvia_ and myself, her life depends on mine; and it is impossible hers can be preserved when mine is in danger: by retiring I shall shortly again be blessed with her sight in a more safe security, by staying I resign myself poorly to be made a public scorn to _France_, and the cruel murderer of _Sylvia_.’ Now, it was after an hundred turns and pauses, intermixed with sighs and ravings, that he resolved for both their safeties to retire; and having a while longer debated within himself how, and where, and a little time ruminated on his hard pursuing fate, grown to a calm of grief, (less easy to be borne than rage) he hastes to _Sylvia_, whom he found something more cheerful than before, but dares not acquaint her with the commands he had to depart----But silently he views her, while tears of love and grief glide unperceivably from his fine eyes, his soul grows tenderer at every look, and pity and compassion joining to his love and his despair, set him on the wreck of life; and now believing it less pain to die than to leave _Sylvia_, resolves to disobey, and dare the worst that shall befall him; he had some glimmering hope, as lovers have, that some kind chance will prevent his going, or being delivered up; he trusts much to the friendship of _Octavio_, whose power joined with that of his uncle, (who was one of the _States_ also, and whom he had an ascendant over, as his nephew and his heir) might serve him; he therefore ventures to move him to compassion by this following letter.

PHILANDER _to_ OCTAVIO.

I know, my lord, that the exercise of virtue and justice is so innate to your soul, and fixed to the very principle of a generous commonwealth’s man, that where those are in competition, it is neither birth, wealth, or glorious merit, that can render the unfortunate condemned by you, worthy of your pity or pardon: your very sons and fathers fall before your justice, and it is crime enough to offend (though innocently) the least of your wholesome laws, to fall under the extremity of their rigour. I am not ignorant neither how flourishing this necessary tyranny, this lawful oppression renders your State; how safe and glorious, how secure from enemies at home, (those worst of foes) and how feared by those abroad: pursue then, sir, your justifiable method, and still be high and mighty, retain your ancient Roman virtue, and still be great as _Rome_ herself in her height of glorious commonwealths; rule your stubborn natives by her excellent examples, and let the height of your ambition be only to be as severely just, as rigidly good as you please; but like her too, be pitiful to strangers, and dispense a noble charity to the distressed, compassionate a poor wandering young man, who flies to you for refuge, lost to his native home, lost to his fame, his fortune, and his friends; and has only left him the knowledge of his innocence to support him from falling on his own sword, to end an unfortunate life, pursued every where, and safe no where; a life whose only refuge is _Octavio_’. goodness; nor is it barely to preserve this life that I have recourse to that only as my sanctuary, and like an humble slave implore your pity: oh, _Octavio_, pity my youth, and intercede for my stay yet a little longer: yourself makes one of the illustrious number of the grave, the wise and mighty Council, your uncle and relations make up another considerable part of it, and you are too dear to all, to find a refusal of your just and compassionate application. Oh! What fault have I committed against you, that I should not find a safety here; as well as those charged with the same crime with me, though of less quality? Many I have encountered here of our unlucky party, who find a safety among you: is my birth a crime? Or does the greatness of that augment my guilt? Have I broken any of your laws, committed any outrage? Do they suspect me for a spy to _France_! Or do I hold any correspondence with that ungrateful nation? Does my religion, principle, or opinion differ from yours? Can I design the subversion of your glorious State? Can I plot, cabal, or mutiny alone? Oh charge me with some offence, or yourselves of injustice. Say, why am I denied my length of earth amongst you, if I die? Or why to breathe the open air, if I live, since I shall neither oppress the one, nor infect the other? But on the contrary am ready with my sword, my youth and blood to serve you, and bring my little aids on all occasions to yours: and should be proud of the glory to die for you in battle, who would deliver me up a sacrifice to _France_. Oh! where, _Octavio_, is the glory or virtue of this _punctilio_? For it is no other: there are no laws that bind you to it, no obligatory article of Nations, but an unnecessary compliment made a _nemine contradicente_ of your senate, that argues nothing but ill nature, and cannot redound to any one’s advantage; an ill nature that’s levelled at me alone; for many I found here, and many shall leave under the same circumstances with me; it is only me whom you have marked out the victim to atone for all: well then, my lord, if nothing can move you to a safety for this unfortunate, at least be so merciful to suspend your cruelty a little, yet a little, and possibly I shall render you the body of _Philander_, though dead, to send into _France_, as the trophy of your fidelity to that Crown: oh yet a little stay your cruel sentence, till my lovely sister, who pursued my hard fortunes, declare my fate by her life or death: oh, my lord, if ever the soft passion of love have touched your soul, if you have felt the unresistible force of young charms about your heart, if ever you have known a pain and pleasure from fair eyes, or the transporting joys of beauty, pity a youth undone by love and ambition, those powerful conquerors of the young----pity, oh pity a youth that dies, and will ere long no more complain upon your rigours. Yes, my lord, he dies without the force of a terrifying sentence, without the grim reproaches of an angry judge, without the soon consulted arbitrary----guilty of a severe and hasty jury, without the ceremony of the scaffold, axe, and hangman, and the clamours of inconsidering crowds; all which melancholy ceremonies render death so terrible, which else would fall like gentle slumbers upon the eye-lids, and which in field I would encounter with that joy I would the sacred thing I love! But oh, I fear my fate is in the lovely _Sylvia_, and in her dying eyes you may read it, in her languishing face you will see how near it is approached. Ah, will you not suffer me to attend it there? By her dear side I shall fall as calmly as flowers from their stalks, without regret or pain: will you, by forcing me to die from her, run me to a madness? To wild distraction? Oh think it sufficient that I die here before half my race of youth be run, before the light be half burnt out, that might have conducted me to a world of glory! Alas, she dies=-the lovely _Sylvia_ dies; she is sighing out a soul to which mine is so entirely fixed, that they must go upward together; yes, yes, she breathes it sick into my bosom, and kindly gives mine its disease of death: let us at least then die in silence quietly; and if it please heaven to restore the languished charmer, I will resign myself up to all your rigorous honour; only let me bear my treasure with me, while we wander over the world to seek us out a safety in some part of it, where pity and compassion is no crime, where men have tender hearts, and have heard of the god of love; where politics are not all the business of the powerful, but where civility and good nature reign.

Perhaps, my lord, you will wonder I plead no weightier argument for my stay than love, or the griefs and tears of a languishing maid: but, oh! they are such tears as every drop would ransom lives, and nothing that proceeds from her charming eyes can be valued at a less rate! In pity to her, to me, and your amorous youths, let me bear her hence: for should she look abroad as her own sex, should she appear in her natural and proper beauty, alas they were undone. Reproach not (my lord) the weakness of this confession, and which I make with more glory than could I boast myself lord of all the universe: if it appear a fault to the more grave and wise, I hope my youth will plead something for my excuse. Oh say, at least, it was pity that love had the ascendant over _Philander_’. soul, say it was his destiny, but say withal, that it put no stop to his advance to glory; rather it set an edge upon his sword, and gave wings to his ambition!--Yes, try me in your Councils, prove me in your camps, place me in any hazard--but give me love! And leave me to wait the life or death of _Sylvia_, and then dispose as you please, my lord, of your unfortunate

PHILANDER.

* * * * *

OCTAVIO _to_ PHILANDER.

_My Lord_,

I am much concerned, that a request so reasonable as you have made, will be of so little force with these arbitrary tyrants of State; and though you have addressed and appealed to me as one of that grave and rigid number, (though without one grain of their formalities, and I hope age, which renders us less gallant, and more envious of the joys and liberties of youth, will never reduce me to so dull and thoughtless a Member of State) yet I have so small and single a portion of their power, that I am ashamed of my incapacity of serving you in this great affair. I bear the honour and the name, it is true, of glorious sway; but I can boast but of the worst and most impotent part of it, the title only; but the busy, absolute, mischievous politician finds no room in my soul, my humour, or constitution; and plodding restless power I have made so little the business of my gayer and more careless youth, that I have even lost my right of rule, my share of empire amongst them. That little power (whose unregarded loss I never bemoaned till it rendered me incapable of serving _Philander_) I have stretched to the utmost bound for your stay; insomuch that I have received many reproaches from the wiser coxcombs, have made my youth’s little debauches hinted on, and judgements made of you (disadvantageous) from my friendship to you; a friendship, which, my lord, at first sight of you found a being in my soul, and which your wit, your goodness, your greatness, and your misfortunes have improved to all the degrees of it: though I am infinitely unhappy that it proves of no use to you here, and that the greatest testimony I can now render of it, is to warn you of your approaching danger, and hasten your departure, for there is no safety in your stay. I just now heard what was decreed against you in Council, which no pleading, nor eloquence of friendship had force enough to evade. Alas, I had but one single voice in the number, which I sullenly and singly gave, and which unregarded passed. Go then, my lord, haste to some place where good breeding and humanity reigns: go and preserve _Sylvia_, in providing for your own safety; and believe me, till she be in a condition to pursue your fortunes, I will take such care that nothing shall be wanting to her recovery here, in order to her following after you. I am, alas, but too sensible of all the pains you must endure by such a separation; for I am neither insensible, nor incapable of love, or any of its violent effects: go then, my lord, and preserve the lovely maid in your flight, since your stay and danger will serve but to hasten on her death: go and be satisfied she shall find a protection suitable to her sex, her innocence, her beauty, and her quality; and that wherever you fix your stay, she shall be resigned to your arms by, my lord, your eternal friend and humble servant,

OCTAVIO.

_Lest in this sudden remove you should want money, I have sent you several Bills of Exchange to what place soever you arrive, and what you want more (make no scruple to use me as a friend and) command._

After this letter finding no hopes, but on the contrary a dire necessity of departing, he told _Brilliard_ his misfortune, and asked his counsel in this extremity of affairs. _Brilliard_, (who of a servant was become a rival) you may believe, gave him such advice as might remove him from the object he adored. But after a great deal of dissembled trouble, the better to hide his joy, he gave his advice for his going, with all the arguments that appeared reasonable enough to _Philander_; and at every period urged, that his life being dear to _Sylvia_, and on which hers so immediately depended, he ought no longer to debate, but hasten his flight: to all which counsel our amorous hero, with a soul ready to make its way through his trembling body, gave a sighing unwilling assent. It was now no longer a dispute, but was concluded he must go; but how was the only question. How should he take his farewell? How he should bid adieu, and leave the dear object of his soul in an estate so hazardous? He formed a thousand sad ideas to torment himself with fancying he should never see her more, that he should hear that she was dead, though now she appeared on this side the grave, and had all the signs of a declining disease. He fancied absence might make her cold, and abate her passion to him; that her powerful beauty might attract adorers, and she being but a woman, and no part angel but her form,’.was not expected she should want her sex’s frailties. Now he could consider how he had won her, how by importunity and opportunity she had at last yielded to him, and therefore might to some new gamester, when he was not by to keep her heart in continual play: then it was that all the despair of jealous love, the throbs and piercing of a violent passion seized his timorous and tender heart, he fancied her already in some new lover’s arms, and ran over all these soft enjoyments he had with her; and fancied with tormenting thought, that so another would possess her; till racked with tortures, he almost fainted on the repose on which he was set: but _Brilliard_ roused and endeavoured to convince him, told him he hoped his fear was needless, and that he would take all the watchful care imaginable of her conduct, be a spy upon her virtue, and from time to time give him notice of all that should pass! Bid him consider her quality, and that she was no common mistress whom hire could lead astray; and that if from the violence of her passion, or her most severe fate, she had yielded to the most charming of men, he ought as little to imagine she could be again a lover, as that she could find an object of equal beauty with that of _Philander_. In fine, he soothed and flattered him into so much ease, that he resolves to take his leave for a day or two, under pretence of meeting and consulting with some of the rebel party; and that he would return again to her by that time it might be imagined her fever might be abated, and _Sylvia_ in a condition to receive the news of his being gone for a longer time, and to know all his affairs. While _Brilliard_ prepared all things necessary for his departure, _Philander_ went to _Sylvia_; from whom, having been absent two tedious hours, she caught him in her arms with a transport of joy, reproached him with want of love, for being absent so long: but still the more she spoke soft sighing words of love, the more his soul was seized with melancholy, his sighs redoubled, and he could not refrain from letting fall some tears upon her bosom----which _Sylvia_ perceiving, with a look and a trembling in her voice, that spoke her fears, she cried, ‘Oh _Philander_! These are unusual marks of your tenderness; oh tell me, tell me quickly what they mean.’ He answered with a sigh, and she went on--’It is so, I am undone, it is your lost vows, your broken faith you weep; yes, _Philander_, you find the flower of my beauty faded, and what you loved before, you pity now, and these be the effects of it.’ Then sighing, as if his soul had been departing on her neck, he cried, ‘By heaven, by all the powers of love, thou art the same dear charmer that thou wert;’ then pressing her body to his bosom, he sighed anew as if his heart were breaking--’I know’ (says she) ’.Philander_, there is some hidden cause that gives these sighs their way, and that dear face a paleness. Oh tell me all; for she that could abandon all for thee, can dare the worst of fate: if thou must quit me----oh _Philander_, if it must be so, I need not stay the lingering death of a feeble fever; I know a way more noble and more sudden.’ Pleased at her resolution, which almost destroyed his jealousy and fears, a thousand times he kissed her, mixing his grateful words and thanks with sighs; and finding her fair hands (which he put often to his mouth) to increase their fires, and her pulse to be more high and quick, fearing to relapse her into her (abating) fever, he forced a smile, and told her, he had no griefs, but what she made him feel, no torments but her sickness, nor sighs but for her pain, and left nothing unsaid that might confirm her he was still more and more her slave; and concealing his design in favour of her health, he ceased not vowing and protesting, till he had settled her in all the tranquillity of a recovering beauty. And as since her first illness he had never departed from her bed, so now this night he strove to appear in her arms with all that usual gaiety of love that her condition would permit, or his circumstances could feign, and leaving her asleep at day-break (with a force upon his soul that cannot be conceived but by parting lovers) he stole from her arms, and retiring to his chamber, he soon got himself ready for his flight, and departed. We will leave _Sylvia_’. ravings to be expressed by none but herself, and tell you that after about fourteen days’ absence, _Octavio_ received this letter from _Philander_.

PHILANDER _to_ OCTAVIO.

Being safely arrived at _Cologne_, and by a very pretty and lucky adventure lodged in the house of the best quality in the town, I find myself much more at ease than I thought it possible to be without _Sylvia_, from whom I am nevertheless impatient to hear; I hope absence appears not so great a bugbear to her as it was imagined: for I know not what effects it would have on me to hear her griefs exceeded a few sighs and tears: those my kind absence has taught me to allow and bear without much pain, but should her love transport her to extremes of rage and despair, I fear I should quit my safety here, and give her the last proof of my love and my compassion, throw myself at her feet, and expose my life to preserve hers. Honour would oblige me to it. I conjure you, my dear _Octavio_, by all the friendship you have vowed me, (and which I no longer doubt) let me speedily know how she bears my absence, for on that knowledge depends a great deal of the satisfaction of my life; carry her this enclosed which I have writ her, and soften my silent departure, which possibly may appear rude and unkind, plead my pardon, and give her the story of my necessity of offending, which none can so well relate as yourself; and from a mouth so eloquent to a maid so full of love, will soon reconcile me to her heart. With her letter I send you a bill to pay her 2000 patacons, which I have paid _Vander Hanskin_ here, as his letter will inform you, as also those bills I received of you at my departure, having been supplied by an _English_ merchant here, who gave me credit. It will be an age, till I hear from you, and receive the news of the health of _Sylvia_, than which two blessings nothing will be more welcome to, generous _Octavio_, your

PHILANDER.

_Direct your letters for me to your merchant_ Vander Hanskin.

* * * * *

PHILANDER _to_ SYLVIA.

There is no way left to gain my _Sylvia_’. pardon for leaving her, and leaving her in such circumstances, but to tell her it was to preserve a life which I believed entirely dear to her; but that unhappy crime is too severely punished by the cruelties of my absence: believe me, lovely _Sylvia_, I have felt all your pains, I have burnt with your fever, and sighed with your oppressions; say, has my pain abated yours? Tell me, and hasten my health by the assurance of your recovery, or I have fled in vain from those dear arms to save my life, of which I know not what account to give you, till I receive from you the knowledge of your perfect health, the true state of mine. I can only say I sigh, and have a sort of a being in _Cologne_, where I have some more assurance of protection than I could hope I from those interested brutes, who sent me from you; yet brutish as they are, I know thou art safe from their clownish outrages. For were they senseless as their fellow-monsters of the sea, they durst not profane so pure an excellence as thine; the sullen boars would jouder out a welcome to thee, and gape, I and wonder at thy awful beauty, though they want the tender sense to know to what use it was made. Or if I doubted their humanity, I cannot the friendship of _Octavio_, since he has given me too good a proof of it, to leave me any fear that he has not in my absence pursued those generous sentiments for _Sylvia_, which he vowed to _Philander_, and of which this first proof must be his relating the necessity of my absence, to set me well with my adorable maid, who, better than I, can inform her; and that I rather chose to quit you only for a short space, than reduce myself to the necessity of losing you eternally. Let the satisfaction this ought to give you retrieve your health and beauty, and put you into a condition of restoring to me all my joys; that by pursuing the dictates of your love, you may again bring the greatest happiness on earth to the arms of your

PHILANDER.

POSTSCRIPT.

_My affairs here are yet so unsettled, that I can take no order for your coming to me; but as soon as I know where I can fix with safety, I shall make it my business and my happiness: adieu. Trust_ Octavio_, with your letters only._

This letter _Octavio_ would not carry himself to her, who had omitted no day, scarce an hour, wherein he saw not or sent not to the charming _Sylvia_; but he found in that which _Philander_ had writ to him an air of coldness altogether unusual with that passionate lover, and infinitely short in point of tenderness to those he had formerly seen of his, and from what he had heard him speak; so that he no longer doubted (and the rather because he hoped it) but that _Philander_ found an abatement of that heat, which was wont to inspire at a more amorous rate: this appearing declension he could not conceal from _Sylvia_, at least to let her know he took notice of it; for he knew her love was too quick-sighted and sensible to pass it unregarded; but he with reason thought, that when she should find others observe the little slight she had put on her, her pride (which is natural to women in such cases) would decline and lessen her love for his rival. He therefore sent his page with the letters enclosed in this from himself.

OCTAVIO _to_ SYLVIA.

_Madam_,

From a little necessary debauch I made last night with the Prince, I am forced to employ my page in those duties I ought to have performed myself: he brings you, madam, a letter from _Philander_, as mine, which I have also sent you, informs me; I should else have doubted it; it is, I think, his character, and all he says of _Octavio_ confesses the friend, but where he speaks of _Sylvia_ sure he disguises the lover: I wonder the mask should be put on now to me, to whom before he so frankly discovered the secrets of his amorous heart. It is a mystery I would fain persuade myself he finds absolutely necessary to his interest, and I hope you will make the same favourable constructions of it, and not impute the lessened zeal wherewith he treats the charming _Sylvia_ to any possible change or coldness, since I am but too fatally sensible, that no man can arrive at the glory of being beloved by you, that had ever power to shorten one link of that dear chain that holds him, and you need but survey that adorable face, to confirm your tranquillity; set a just value on your charms, and you need no arguments to secure your everlasting empire, or to establish it in what heart you please. This fatal truth I learned from your fair eyes, ere they discovered to me your sex, and you may as soon change to what I then believed you, as I from adoring what I now find you: if all then, madam, that do but look on you become your slaves, and languish for you, love on, even without hope, and die, what must _Philander_ pay you, who has the mighty blessing of your love, your vows, and all that renders the hours of amorous youth, sacred, glad, and triumphant? But you know the conquering power of your charms too well to need either this daring confession, or a defence of _Philander_’. virtue from, madam, your obedient slave,

OCTAVIO.

_Sylvia_ had no sooner read this with blushes, and a thousand fears, and trembling of what was to follow in _Philander_’. letters both to _Octavio_ and to herself, but with an indignation agreeable to her haughty soul, she cried--’How--slighted! And must _Octavio_ see it too! By heaven, if I should find it true, he shall not dare to think it.’ Then with a generous rage she broke open _Philander_’., letter; and which she soon perceived did but too well prove the truth of _Octavio_’. suspicion, and her own fears. She repeated it again and again, and still she found more cause of grief and anger; love occasioned the first, and pride the last; and, to a soul perfectly haughty, as was that of _Sylvia_, it was hard to guess which had the ascendant: she considered _Octavio_ to all the advantages that thought could conceive in one, who was not a lover of him; she knew he merited a heart, though she had none to give him; she found him charming without having a tenderness for him; she found him young and amorous without desire towards him; she found him great, rich, powerful and generous without designing on him; and though she knew her soul free from all passion, but that for _Philander_, nevertheless she blushed and was angry, that he had thoughts no more advantageous to the power of those charms, which she wish’d might appear to him above her sex, it being natural to women to desire conquests, though they hate the conquered; to glory in the triumph, though they despise the slave: and she believed, while _Octavio_ had so poor a sense of her beauty as to believe it could be forsaken, he would adore it less: and first, to satisfy her pride, she left the softer business of her heart to the next tormenting hour, and sent him this careless answer by his page, believing, if she valued his opinion; and therefore dissembled her thoughts, as women in those cases ever do, who when most angry seem the most galliard, especially when they have need of the friendship of those they flatter.

SYLVIA _to_ OCTAVIO.

Is it indeed, _Octavio_, that you believe _Philander_ cold, or would you make that a pretext to the declaration of your own passion? We _French_ ladies are not so nicely tied up to the formalities of virtue, but we can hear love at both ears: and if we receive not the addresses of both, at least we are perhaps vain enough not to be displeased to find we make new conquests. But you have made your attack with so ill conduct, that I shall find force enough without more aids to repulse you. Alas, my lord, did you believe my heart was left unguarded when _Philander_ departed? No, the careful charming lover left a thousand little gods to defend it, of no less power than himself; young deities, who laugh at all your little arts and treacheries, and scorn to resign their empire to any feeble _Cupids_ you can draw up against them: your thick foggy air breeds love too dull and heavy for noble flights, nor can I stoop to them. The _Flemish_ boy wants arrows keen enough for hearts like mine, and is a bungler in his art, too lazy and remiss, rather a heavy _Bacchus_ than a _Cupid_, a bottle sends him to his bed of moss, where he sleeps hard, and never dreams of _Venus_.

How poorly have you paid yourself, my lord, (by this pursuit of your discovered love) for all the little friendship you have rendered me! How well you have explained, you can be no more a lover than a friend, if one may judge the first by the last! Had you been thus obstinate in your passion before _Philander_ went, or you had believed me abandoned, I should perhaps have thought that you had loved indeed, because I should have seen you durst, and should have believed it true, because it ran some hazards for me, the resolution of it would have reconciled me then to the temerity of it, and the greatest demonstration you could have given of it, would have been the danger you would have ran and contemned, and the preference of your passion above any other consideration. This, my lord, had been generous and like a lover; but poorly thus to set upon a single woman in the disguise of a friend, in the dark silent melancholy hour of absence from _Philander_, then to surprise me, then to bid me deliver! to pad for hearts! It is not like _Octavio_, _Octavio_ that _Philander_ made his friend, and for whose dear sake, my lord, I will no farther reproach you, but from a goodness, which, I hope, you will merit, I will forgive an offence, which your ill-timing has rendered almost inexcusable, and expect you will for the future consider better how you ought to treat

SYLVIA.

As soon as she had dismissed the page, she hasted to her business of love, and again read over _Philander_’., letter, and finding still new occasion for fear, she had recourse to pen and paper for a relief of that heart which no other way could find; and after having wiped the tears from her eyes, she writ this following letter.

SYLVIA _to_ PHILANDER.