Chapter VI (1)

_Recesses Dark, and Grotto’s all conspire,_
_To favour_ Love _and soft desire;_
_Shades, Springs and Fountains flowry Beds,_ }
_To Joys invites, to Pleasure leads,_ }
_To Pleasure which all Humane thought exceeds._ }
_Heav’n, Earth, and Sea, here all combine,_ }
_To propagate_ Love’s _great design,_ }
_And render the Appointments all Divine._ }
_After long toyl, ‘tis here the Lover reaps_
_Transporting softnesses beyond his hopes;_
_’.is here fair Eyes, all languishing impart_
_The secrets of the fond inclining Heart;_
_Fine Hands and Arms for tender Pressings made,_
_In_ Love’s _dear business always are imploy’d:_
_The soft Inchantments of the Tongue,_
_That does all other Eloquence controul,_
_Is breath’d with broken Sighs among,_
_Into the Ravish’d Shepherds Soul,_
_Whilst all is taken, all is given,_
_That can compleat a Lovers Heav’n:_
_And_ Io Peans _through the Woods do ring,_
_From new fletch’d God, in Songs all Ravishing._

Oh my dear _Lysidas!_ my faithful Friend,
Would I cou’d here with all my Pleasures end:
‘Twas Heaven! ‘twas Extaxsie! each minute brought
New Raptures to my Senses, Soul and Thought;
Each Look, each Touch, my Ravisht fancy charm’d,
Each Accent of her Voice my Blood Alarm’d;
I pant with every Glance, faint with a Kiss,
Oh Judge my Transports then in higher Bliss.
A while all Dead, between her Arms I lay,
Unable to possess the conquer’d Joys;
But by degrees my Soul its sense retriev’d;
Shame and Confusion let me know I liv’d.
I saw the trembling dis-appointed Maid,
With charming angry Eyes my fault upbraid,
While Love and Spight no kind Excuse affords,
My Rage and Softness was above dull Words,
And my Misfortune only was exprest,
By Signing out my Soul into her Brest:
A thousand times I breath’d _Aminta’s_ name,
_Aminta!_ call’d! but that increas’d my flame.
And as the Tide of Love flow’d in, so fast
My Low, my Ebbing Vigor out did hast.
But ‘twas not long, thus idly, and undone
I lay, before vast Seas came rowling on,
Spring-tides of Joy, that the rich neighboring shoar }
And down the fragrant Banks it proudly bore, }
O’re-flow’d and ravisht all great Natures store. }
Swoln to Luxurious heights, no bounds it knows,
But wantonly it Triumphs where it flows.
Some God inform Thee of my blest Estate,
But all their Powers divert thee from my Fate.
‘Twas thus we liv’d the wonder of the Groves,
Fam’d for our Love, our mutual constant Loves.
Young Amorous Hero’s at her Feet did fall,
Despair’d and dy’d, whilst I was Lord of All;
Her Empire o’re my Soul each moment grew, }
New Charms each minute did appear in view, }
And each appointment Ravishing and New. }
Fonder each hour my tender Heart became,
And that which us’d t’ allay, increas’d my Flame.
But on a day, oh may no chearful Ray,
Of the Sun’s Light, bless that succeeding day!
May the black hours from the account be torn,
May no fair thing upon thy day be born!
May fate and Hell appoint thee for their own,
May no good deed be in thy Circle done!
May Rapes, Conspiricies and Murders stay,
Till thou com’st on, and hatch em in thy day!
--’Twas on this day all Joyful Gay and Fair, }
Fond as desire, and wanton as the Air; }
_Aminta_ did with me to the blest Bower repair. }
Beneath a Beechy Shade, a flowry Bed,
Officious _Cupid’s_ for our Pleasure spred,
Where never did the Charmer ere impart,
More Joy, more Rapture to my ravisht Heart:
‘Twas all the first; ‘twas all beginning Fire!
‘Twas all new Love! new Pleasure! new Desire!
--Here stop, my Soul--
Stop thy carreer of Vanity and Pride,
And only say,--_’.was here_ Aminta _dy’d_:
The fleeting Soul as quickly dis-appears,
As leaves blown off with Winds, or falling Stars;
And Life its flight assum’d with such a pace;
It took no farewel of her lovely Face,
The Fugitive not one Beauty did surprize,
It scarce took time to languish in her Eyes,
But on my Bosom bow’d her charming Head;
And sighing, these surprizing words she said:
“Joy of my Soul, my faithful tender Youth,
Lord of my Vows, and Miracle of Truth:
Thou soft obliger--: of thy Sex the best,
Thou blessing too Extream to be possest;
The Angry God, designing we must part,
Do render back the Treasure of thy Heart;
When in some new fair Breast, it finds a room,
And I shall ly--neglected--in my Tomb--
Remember--oh remember--the fair she,
Can never love thee, darling Youth, like me.”
Then with a Sigh she sunk into my Brest,
While her fair Eyes her last farewel exprest;
To aiding God’s I cry’d; but they were Deaf,
And no kind pow’r afforded me relief:
I call her name, I weep, I rave and faint,
And none but Eccho’s answer my Complaint;
I Kiss and Bathe her stiffening Face with Tears,
Press it to mine, as cold and pale as her’s;
The fading Roses of her Lips I press,
But no kind Word the silenc’d Pratlers will confess;
Her lovely Eyes I kiss, and call upon,
But all their wonted answering Rhetorick’s gone.
Her charming little Hands in vain I ask,
Those little Hands no more my Neck shall grasp;
No more about my Face her Fingers play,
Nor brede my Hair, or the vain Curls display,
No more her Tongue beguiling Stories tell,
Whose wonderous Wit cou’d grace a Tale so well;
All, all is fled, to Death’s cold Mansion gone, }
And I am left benighted and undone, }
And every day my Fate is hasting on. }
From the inchanting Bower I madly fly,
That Bower that now no more affords me Joy.
_Love_ had not left for me one Bliss in store,
Since my _Aminta_ you’d dispence no more.
--Thence to a silent Desert I advance,
And call’d the _Desert of Remembrance_;
A solitude upon a Mountain plac’d,
All gloomy round, and wonderous high and vast,
From whence _Love’s_ Island all appears in view,
And distant Prospects renders near and true;
Each Bank, each Bower, each dear inviting Shade,
That to our Sacred Loves was conscious made;
Each flowry Bed, each Thicket and each Grove,
Where I have lain Charm’d with _Aminta’s_ Love;
(Where e’re she chear’d the day, and blest the Night)
Eternally are present to my Sight.
Where e’re I turn, the Landskip does confess,
Something that calls to mind past happiness.
This, _Lysidas_, this is my wretched state,
‘Tis here I languish, and attend my Fate.
But e’re I go, ‘twou’d wonderous Pleasure be, }
(If such a thing can e’re arrive to me) }
To find some Pity (_Lysidas_) from thee. }
Then I shou’d take the Wing, and upwards fly,
And loose the Sight of this dull World with Joy.

Your _Lysander_.

A TABLE.

PAGE.

_The Golden Age, a Paraphrase on a Translation out
of_ French 138

_A Farewell to_ Celladon _on his going into_ Ireland 144

_On a Juniper-Tree cut down to make Busks_ 148

_On the Death of Mr._ Greenhill _the famous Painter_ 151

_A Ballad on Mr._ J. H. _to_ Amoret, _asking why I
was so sad_ 153

_Our Caball_ 156

_The willing Mistress, a Song_ 163

_Love Arm’d, a Song_ 163

_The Complaint, a Song_ 164

_The Invitation, a Song_ 165

_A Song_ 165

_To Mr._ Creech (_under the name of_ Daphnis) _on his
Excellent Translation of_ Lucretius 166

_To Mrs._ W. _on her excellent Verses (writ in praise
of some I had made on the late Earl of_
Rochester) _written in a fit of sickness_ 171

_The sense of a Letter sent me, made into Verse, to a
New Tune_ 173

_The Return_ 173

_On a Copy of Verses made in a Dream and sent to
me in a Morning before I was awake_ 174

_To my Lady_ Morland _at_ Tunbridge 175

_Song to_ Ceres, _in the wavering Nymph or mad_
Amyntas 177

_A Song in the same Play by the wavering Nymph_ 177

_The Disappointment_ 178

_On a Locket of Hair wove in a True-lovers Knot
given me by Sir_ R. O. 182

_The Dream, a Song_ 183

_A Letter to a Brother of the Pen in Tribulation_ 185

_The Reflexion, a Song_ 186

_A Song to_ Pesibles _Tune_ 188

_A Song on her loving two Equally set by Capt._ Pack 189

_The Counsel, a Song set by the same hand_ 190

_The Surprise, a Song set by Mr._ Farmer 191

_A Song_ 192

_The Invitation, a Song to a New_ Scotch _Tune_ 192

Sylvio’s _Complaint, a Song to a fine_ Scotch _Tune_ 193

_In Imitation of_ Horace 195

_To_ Lysander _who made some Verses on a Discourse of Loves Fire_ 196

_A Dialogue for an entertainment at Court between_ Damon _and_
Sylvia 198

_On Mr._ J. H. _In a fit of sickness_ 200

_To_ Lysander _on some Verses he writ, and asking
more for his Heart than ‘twas worth_ 202

_To the Honourable Lord_ Howard, _on his Comedy
called the New_ Utopia 204

_To_ Lysander _at the Musick meeting_ 207

_An Ode to Love_ 208

_Love Reveng’d, a Song_ 209

_A Song to a New_ Scotch _Tune_ 210

_The Caball at Nickey Nackeys_ 211

_A Paraphrase on the eleventh Ode out of the first
Book of_ Horace 212

_A Translation_ 212

_A Paraphrase on_ OEnone _to_ Paris 213

_A Voyage to the Isle of Love_ 223

FINIS.

LYCIDUS: OR, THE LOVER IN FASHION, &c.

To the EARL OF MELFORD, &c., Knight of the most Noble Order of the Thistle.

My Lord,

This Epistle Dedicatory which humbly lays this Little Volume
at your Lordships feet, and begs a Protection there, is rather
an Address than a Dedication; to which a great many hands have
subscrib’d, it Presenting your Lordship a Garland whose Flowers
are cull’d by several Judgments in which I claim the least part;
whose sole Ambition is this way to congratulate your Lordships
new Addition of Honour, that of the Most Noble Order of the
_Thistle_, an Honour which preced’s that of the _Garter_, having
been supported by a long Race of Kings, and only fell with the most
Illustrious of Queens, whose memory (which ought to be Establish’d,
in all hearts can not be better preserv’d,) than by reviving this
so Ancient Order; well has His Majesty chosen its Noble Champions,
among whom none merits more the Glory of that Royal Favor than your
Lordship: whose Loyalty to His Sacred Person and interest through
all the adversities of Fate, has begot you so perfect a veneration
in all hearts, and is so peculiarly the Innate vertue of your Great
mind; a virtue not shewn by unreasonable fits when it shall serve
an end, (a false Bravery for a while when least needful, and thrown
off when put to useful Tryal; like those who weighing Advantages
by Probabilities only, and fancying the future to out-poyse the
present, cast there their Anchor of Hope,) but a virtue built
on so sure and steady Basis’s of Honour, as nothing can move or
shake; the Royal Interest being so greatly indeed the Property of
Nobility, and so much even above life and Fortune: Especially when
to support a Monarch so truly just, so wise and great; a Monarch
whom God Almighty Grant long to Reign over Us, and still to be
serv’d by men of Principles so truly Brave, as those that shine in
your Lordship.

Pardon, my Lord, this Digression and the meanness of this Present,
which to a Person of your Lordships great and weighty Employments
in the world may seem Improper, if I did not know that the most
Glorious of States-men must sometimes unbend from Great Affairs,
and seek a diversion in trivial Entertainments; Though Poetry will
Justle for the Preeminency of all others, and I know is not the
least in the Esteem of your Lordship, who is so admirable a Judge
of it, if any thing here may be found worthy the Patronage it
Implores, ‘twill be a sufficient Honour to,

My Lord,
Your Lordships most humble,
most oblig’d,
and obedient Servant,
A. BEHN.

_To Mrs. B. on her Poems_.

Hail, Beauteous _Prophetess_, in whom alone,
Of all your sex Heav’ns master-piece is shewn.
For wondrous skill it argues, wondrous care,
Where two such Stars in firm conjunction are,
A Brain so Glorious, and a Face so fair.
Two Goddesses in your composure joyn’d, }
Nothing but Goddess cou’d, you’re so refin’d, }
Bright _Venus_ Body gave, _Minerva_ Mind. }

How soft and fine your manly numbers flow,
Soft as your Lips, and smooth as is your brow.
Gentle as Air, bright as the Noon-days Sky,
Clear as your skin, and charming as your Eye.
No craggy Precipice the Prospect spoyles,
The Eye no tedious barren plain beguiles.
But, like _Thessalian_ Feilds your Volumes are, }
Rapture and charms o’re all the soyl appear, }
_Astrea_ and her verse are _Tempe_ every where. }

Ah, more than Woman! more than man she is,
As _Phæbus_ bright; she’s too, as _Phæbus_ wise.
The Muses to our sex perverse and coy
_Astrea_ do’s familiarly enjoy.
She do’s their veiled Glorys understand,
And what we court with pain, with ease command.
Their charming secrets they expanded lay,
Reserv’d to us, to her they all display.
Upon her Pen await those learned Nine. }
She ne’re but like the Phosph’rus draws a line, }
As soon as toucht her subjects clearly shine. }

The femal Laurels were obscur’d till now,
And they deserv’d the Shades in which they grew:
But _Daphne_ at your call return’s her flight,
Looks boldly up and dares the God of light.
If we _Orinda_ to your works compare, }
They uncouth, like her countrys soyle, appear, }
Mean as its Pesants, as its Mountains bare: }
_Sappho_ tasts strongly of the sex, is weak and poor, }
At second hand she russet Laurels wore, }
Yours are your own, a rich and verdant store. }
If Loves the Theme, you out-do _Ovid’s_ Art, }
Loves God himself can’t subtiller skill impart, }
Softer than’s plumes, more piercing than his Dart. }

If _Pastoral_ be her Song, she glads the Swains
With Livelier notes, with spritelier smiles the plains.
More gayly than the Springs she decks the Bowrs
And breaths a second _May_ to Fields and Flowrs.
If e’re the golden Age again return
And flash in shining Beames from’s Iron Urn,
That Age not as it was before shall be,
But as th’ Idea is refin’d by thee.
That seems the common; thines the Elixir, Gold,
So pure is thine, and so allay’d the old.

Happy, ye Bards, by fair _Astrea_ prais’d,
If you’r alive, to brighter life you’re rais’d;
For cherisht by her Beams you’ll loftyer grow,
You must your former learned selves out-do,
Thô you’d the parts of _Thirsis_ and of _Strephon_ too.
Hail, mighty Prophetess! by whom we see
Omnipotence almost in Poetry:
Your flame can give to Graves _Promethean_ fire,
And _Greenhill’s_ clay with living paint inspire;
For like some Mystick wand with awful Eyes
You wave your Pen, and lo the dead Arise.

_Kendrick._

LYCIDUS:

or, the Lover in Fashion, &c.

I Have receiv’d your melancholy Epistle, with the Account of your Voyage to the _Island of Love_; of your Adventures there, and the Relation of the death of your _Aminta_: At which you shall forgive me if I tell you I am neither surpris’d nor griev’d, but hope to see you the next Campagne, as absolutely reduc’d to reason as myself. When Love, that has so long deprived you of Glory, shall give you no more Sighs but at the short remembrances of past Pleasures; and that after you have heard my Account of the Voyage I made to the same place, with my more lucky one back again, (for I, since I saw you, have been an Adventurer) you will by my Example become of my Opinion, (notwithstanding your dismal Tales of Death and the eternal Shades,) which is, that if there be nothing that will lay me in my Tomb till Love brings me thither, I shall live to Eternity.

I must confess ‘tis a great Inducement to Love, and a happy Advance to an Amour, to be handsom, finely shap’d, and to have a great deal of Wit; these are Charms that subdue the Hearts of all the Fair: And one sees but very few Ladies, that can resist these good Qualities, especially in an Age so gallant as ours, yet all this is nothing if Fortune do not smile: And I have seen a Man handsom, well shap’d, and of a great deal of Wit, with the advantage of a thousand happy Adventures, yet finds himself in the end, fitter for an Hospital than the Elevation of Fortune: And the Women are not contented we should give them as much Love as they give us, (which is but reasonable,) but they would compel us all to Present and Treat ‘em lavishly, till a Man hath consumed both Estate and Body in their Service. How many do we see, that are wretched Examples of this Truth, and who have nothing of all they enjoyed remaining with ‘em, but a poor _Idæa_ of past Pleasures, when rather the Injury the Jilt has done ‘em, ought to be eternally present with ‘em. Heaven keep me from being a Woman’s Property. There are Cullies enough besides you or I, _Lysander_.

One would think now, That I, who can talk thus Learnedly and Gravely, had never been any of the number of those wretched, whining, sighing, dying Fops, I speak of, never been jilted and cozen’d of both my Heart and Reason; but let me tell those that think so, they are mistaken, and that all this Wisdom and Discretion, I now seem replenish’d with, I have as dearly bought as any keeping Fool of ‘em all. I was Li’d and flattered into Wit, jilted and cozen’d into Prudence, and, by ten thousand broken Vows and perjured Oaths, reduced to Sense again; and can laugh at all my past Follies now.

After I have told you this, you may guess at a great part of my Story; which, in short, is this: I would needs make a Voyage, as you did, to this fortunate Isle, and accompanyed with abundance of young Heirs, Cadets, Coxcombs, Wits, Blockheads, and Politicians, with a whole Cargo of Cullies all, nameless and numberless we Landed on the Inchanted Ground; the first I saw, and lik’d, was charming _Silvia_; you believe I thought her fair as Angels; young, as the Spring, and sweet as all the Flowers the blooming Fields produce; that when she blush’d, the Ruddy Morning open’d, the Rose-buds blew, and all the Pinks and Dazies spread; that when she sigh’d or breath’d, _Arabia’s_ Spices, driven by gentle Winds, perfum’d all around; that when she look’d on me, all Heaven was open’d in her Azure Eyes, from whence Love shot a thousand pointed Darts, and wounded me all over; that when she spoke, the Musick of the Spheres, all that was ravishing in Harmony, blest the Adoring Listener; that when she walk’d, _Venus_ in the Mirtle Grove when she advanced to meet her lov’d _Adonis_, assuming all the Grace young Loves cou’d give, had not so much of Majesty as _Silvia_: In fine, she did deserve, and I compared her to all the Fopperies, the Suns, the Stars, the Coral, and the Pearl, the Roses and Lillies, Angels Spheres, and Goddesses, fond Lovers dress their Idols in. For she was all, fancy and fine imagination could adorn her with, at least, the gazing Puppy thought so. ‘Twas such I saw and lov’d; but knowing I did Adore, I made my humble Court, and she, by all my trembling, sighings, pantings, the going and returning of my Blood, found all my Weakness and her own Power; and using all the Arts of her Sex, both to ingage and secure me, play’d all the Woman over: She wou’d be scornful and kind by turns, as she saw convenient, This to check my Presumption and too easy hope; That to preserve me from the brink of despair. Thus was I tost in the Blanket of Love, sometimes up, and sometimes down, as her Wit and Humour was in or out of tune, all which I watch’d, and waited like a Dog, that still the oftner kick’d wou’d fawn the more.

Oh, ‘tis an excellent Art this managing of a Coxcomb, the Serpent first taught it our Grandam _Eve_: and _Adam_ was the first kind Cully: E’re since they have kept their Empire over Men, and we have, e’re since, been Slaves. But I, the most submissive of the whole Creation, was long in gaining Grace; she used me as she meant to keep me, Fool enough for her Purpose. She saw me young enough to do her Service, handsom enough to do her Credit, and Fortune enough to please her Vanity and Interest: She therefore suffer’d me to Love, and Bow among the Crowd, and fill her Train. She gave me hope enough to secure me too, but gave me nothing else, till she saw me languish to that degree, she feared, to lose the Glory of my Services, by my death; only this Pleasure kept me alive, to see her treat all my Rivals with the greatest Rigour imaginable, and to me all sweetness, exposing their foibles; and having taken Notice of my Languishment, she suffered me Freedoms that wholly Ravish’d me, and gave me hopes I shou’d not be long a dying for all she cou’d give.

But, since I have a great deal to say of my Adventures in passing out of this _Island of Love_: I will be as brief as I can in what arrived to me on the Place; and tell you, That after Ten thousand Vows of eternal Love on both sides, I had the Joy, not only to be believ’d and lov’d, but to have her put herself into my Possession, far from all my Rivals: Where, for some time I lived with this charming Maid, in all the Raptures of Pleasure, Youth, Beauty, and Love could create. Eternally we loved, and lived together, no day nor night separated us, no Frowns interrupted our Smiles, no Clouds our Sun-shine; the Island was all perpetual Spring, still flowery and green, in Bowers, in Shades, by purling Springs and Fountains, we past our hours, unwearied and uninterrupted. I cannot express to you the happy Life I led, during this blessed Tranquility of Love, while _Silvia_ still was pleased and still was gay. We walked all day together in the Groves, and entertained ourselves with a thousand Stories of Love; we laught at the foolish World, who could not make their Felicity without Crowds and Noise: We pitied Kings in Courts in this Retirement, so well we liked our Solitude; till on a day, (blest be that joyful day, though then ’.was most accurst,) I say upon that day, I know not by what accident I was parted from my Charmer, and left her all alone, but in my absence, there incountred her a Woman extremely ugly, and who was however very nice and peevish, inconstant in her temper, and no one place could continue her: The finest things in the World were troublesom to her, and she was Shagreen at every thing; her Name is _Indifference_; she is a Person of very great Power in this Island, (though possibly you never incountred her there,) and those that follow her, depart from the _Isle of Love_ without any great pains. She brought _Silvia_ to the Lake of Disgust, whether, in persuing her (at my return,) I found her, ready to take Boat to have past quite away, and where there are but too many to transport those Passengers, who follow _Indifference_ over the Lake of _Disgust_. I saw this disagreeable Creature too, but she appeared too ugly for me to approach her, but forcing _Silvia_ back, I returned again to the Palace of _True Pleasure_, where some days after there arrived to me a Misfortune, of which, I believed I should never have seen an end. I found _Silvia_ inviron’d round with new Lovers, still adoring and pleasing her a thousand ways, and though none of ‘em were so rich, so young, or so handsom as I, she nevertheless failed not to treat ‘em with all the Smiles and Caresses ‘twas possible to imagin; when I complain’d of this, she would satisfy my fears with so many Vows and Imprecations, that I would believe her, and think myself unreasonable, but when she would be absent whole days, in a hundred places, she would find such probable Excuse, and lye with such a Grace, no mortal cou’d have accused her, so that all the whole Island took notice that I was a baffled Cuckold, before I could believe she would deceive me, so heartily she damn’d herself: Through all the Groves I was the pointed Coxcomb, laught at aloud, and knew not where the jest lay; but thought myself as secure in the Innocence of my deceiving fair one, as the first hour I Charmed her, and like a keeping Cully, lavish’d out my Fortune, my plenteous Fortune, to make her fine to Cuckold me. ‘Sdeath! how I scorn the Follies of my Dotage; and am resolv’d to persue Love for the future, in such a manner as it shall never cost me a Sigh: This shall be my method.

A Constancy in Love I’ll prise,
And be to Beauty true:
And doat on all the lovely Eyes,
That are but fair and new.
On _Cloris_ Charms to day I’ll feed,
To morrow _Daphne_ move;
For bright _Lucinda_ next I’ll bleed,
And still be true to Love.

But Glory only and Renown
My serious hours shall charm;
My Nobler Minutes those shall Crown,
My looser hours, my Flame.
All the Fatigues of Love I’ll hate,
And _Phillis’s_ new Charms
That hopeless Fire shall dissipate,
My Heart for _Cloe_ warms.

The easie Nymph I once enjoy’d
Neglected now shall pass,
Possession, that has Love destroy’d
Shall make me pitiless.
In vain she now attracts and mourns,
Her moving Power is gone,
Too late (when once enjoy’d,) she burns,
And yeilding, is undone.

My Friend, the little charming Boy
Conforms to my desires,
And ‘tis but to augment my Joy
He pains me with his Fires;
All that’s in happy Love I’ll tast,
And rifle all his store,
And for one Joy, that will not last,
He brings a thousand more.

Perhaps, my Friend, at this Account of my Humor you may smile, but with a reasonable consideration you will commend it, at least, though you are not so wise as to persue my Dictates. Yet I know you will be diverted with my Adventures; though there be no love in ‘em that can resemble ‘em to yours. Take then the History of my Heart, which I assure you, boasts itself of the Conquests it has made.

A thousand Martyrs I have made,
All sacrific’d to my desire;
A thousand Beauties have betray’d,
That languish in resistless Fire.
The untam’d Heart to hand I brought,
And fixt the wild and wandring Thought.

I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vain
But both, thô false, were well receiv’d.
The Fair are pleas’d to give us pain,
And what they wish is soon believ’d.
And thô I talk’d of Wounds and Smart,
Loves Pleasures only toucht my Heart.

Alone the Glory and the Spoil
I always Laughing bore away;
The Triumphs, without Pain or Toil,
Without the Hell, the Heav’n of Joy.
And while I thus at random rove
Despise the Fools that whine for Love.

I was a great while, (like you,) before I forgot the remembrance of my first Languishments, and I almost thought (by an excess of Melancholy,) that the end of my Misfortunes were with my Life at hand: Yet still like a fond Slave, willing to drag my Fetters on, I hop’d she would find Arguments to convince me she was not false; and in that Humor, fear’d only I should not be handsomly and neatly jilted. Could she but have dissembled well, I had been still her Cully. Could she have play’d her Game with discretion, but, vain of her Conquest, she boasted it to all the World, and I alone was the kind keeping Blockhead, to whom ’.was unperceived, so well she swore me into belief of her Truth to me. Till one day, lying under a solitary Shade, with my sad Thoughts fixt on my declining Happiness, and almost drown’d in Tears, I saw a Woman drest in glorious Garments, all loose and flowing with the wind, scouring the Fields and Groves with such a pace, as _Venus_, when she heard her lov’d Youth was slain, hasted to behold her ruin. She past me, as I lay, with an unexpressible swiftness, and spoke as she run, with a loud Voice. At her first approach, I felt a strange trembling at my Heart without knowing the reason, and found at last this Woman was _Fame_. Yet I was not able to tell from whence proceeded my Inquietude. When her Words made me but too well understand the Cause: The fatal Subject of what she cry’d, in passing by me, were these:

Poor _Lycidus_, for shame arise,
And wipe _Loves_ Errors from thy Eyes;
Shake off the God that holds thy Heart;
Since _Silvia_ for another burns,
And all thy past Indurement scorns
While thou the Cully art.

I believed, as she spoke, that I had ill understood her, but she repeated it so often, that I no longer doubted my wretchedness. I leave you, who so well can guess, to imagin, what Complaints I made, filling the Grove, where I was laid, with my piteous Cries; sometimes I rose and raved, and rail’d on Love, and reproached the fair Fugitive. But the tender God was still pleading in my Heart, and made me ever end my noisy Griefs in Sighs and silent Tears. A thousand Thoughts of revenge I entertained against this happy Rival, and the charming ingrate: But those Thoughts, like my Rage, would also end in soft reproaching murmurs and regret only. And I would sometimes argue with Love in this manner.

Ah, cruel _Love_! when will thy Torments cease?
And when shall I have leave to dye in Peace?
And why, too charming and too cruel Maid,
Cou’d’.t thou not yet thy fleeting Heart have stay’d?
And by degrees thy fickle Humor shewn,
By turns the Enemy and Friend put on:
Have us’d my Heart a little to thy scorn,
The loss at least might have been easier born.
With feigned Vows, (that poor Expence of Breath,)
Alas thou might’st have sooth’d me to my death.
Thy Coldness, and thy visible decays
In time had put a period to my days.
And lay’d me quietly into my Tomb,
Before thy proof of Perjuries had come.
You might have waited yet a little space }
And sav’d mine, and thy, Honour this disgrace; }
Alas I languish’d and declin’d apace. }
I lov’d my Life too eagerly away
To have disturb’d thee with too long a stay.
Ah! cou’d you not my dying Heart have fed
With some small Cordial Food, till I was dead?
Then uncontroul’d, and unreproach’d your Charms
Might have been render’d to my Rival’s Arms.
Then all my right to him you might impart,
And Triumph’d o’re a true and broken Heart.

Though I complained thus for a good while, I was not without some secret hope, that what I had heard was not true; nor would I be persuaded to undeceive myself of that hope which was so dear and precious to me. I was not willing to be convinced I was intirely miserable, out of too great a fear to find it true; and there were some Moments in which I believed _Fame_ might falsly accuse _Silvia_, and it did not seem reasonable to me, that, after all the Vows and Oaths she had made, she should so easily betray ‘em, and forgetting my Services, receive those of another, less capable of rend’ring them to her advantage. Sometimes I would excuse her ingratitude with a thousand things that seem’d reasonable, but still that was but to make me more sensible of my disgrace; and then I would accuse myself of a thousand weaknesses below the Character of a Man; I would even despise and loath my own easiness, and resolve to be no longer a _Mark-out-fool_ for all the Rhiming Wits of the Island to aim their Dogrel at. And grown, as I imagined, brave at this thought, I resolved first to be fully convinced of the perfidy of my Mistress, and then to rent my Heart from the attachment that held it.

You know, that from the _Desart of Remembrance_, one does, with great facility, look over all the _Island of Love_. I was resolved to go thither one day; and where indeed I could survey all things that past, in the Groves, the Bowers, by Rivers, or Fountains, or whatever other place, remote or obscure ‘twas from thence, that one day I saw the faithless _Silvia_, in the Palace of _True Pleasure_, in the very Bower of Bliss with one of my Rivals, but most intimate Friend.

‘Twas there, I saw my Rival take
Pleasures, he knew how to make;
There he took, and there was given,
All the Joys that Rival Heaven;
Kneeling at her Feet he lay,
And in transports dy’d away:
Where the faithless suffer’d too
All the amorous Youth cou’d do.

The Ardour of his fierce desire
Set his Face and Eyes on fire.
All their Language was the Blisses
Of Ten thousand eager Kisses;
While his ravish’d Neck she twin’d
And to his Kisses, Kisses join’d;
Till, both inflam’d, she yeilded so
She suffer’d all the Youth cou’d do.

In fine, ‘twas there I saw that I must lose the day. And I saw in this Lover Ten thousand Charms of Youth and Beauty; on which the ingrate with greedy languishing Eyes, eternally gazed with the same Joy she used to behold me when she made me most happy. I confess, this Object was so far from pleasing me, (as I believed a confirmation would,) that the change inspired me with a rage, which nothing else could do, and made me say things unbecoming the Dignity of my Sex, who ought to disdain those faithless Slaves, which Heaven first made to obey the Lords of the Creation. A thousand times I was about to have rush’d upon ‘em, and have ended the Lives of the loose betrayers of my repose, but Love stepp’d in and stay’d my hand, preventing me from an Outrage, that would have cost me that rest of Honour, I yet had left: But when my rage was abated, I fell to a more insupportable Torment, that of extream Grief to find another possest of what I had been so long, and with so much Toil in gaining: ‘Twas thus I retir’d, and after a little while brought myself to make calm Reflections upon this Adventure, which reduced me to some reason. When one day as I was walking in an unfrequented Shade, whither my Melancholy had conducted me, I incountred a Man, of a haughty look and meen, his Apparel rich and glorious, his Eyes awful, and his Stature tall; the very sight of him inspired me with coldness, which render’d me almost insensible of the infidelity of _Silvia_. This Person was _Pride_, who looking on me, as he past, with a fierce and disdainful Smile, over his Shoulder, and regarding me with scorn, said;

Why shou’d that faithless wanton give
Thy Heart so mortal pain,
Whose Sighs were only to deceive,
Her Oaths all false and vain?
Despise those Tears thou shedd’st for her,
Disdain to sigh her Name.
To _Love_, thy Liberty prefer;
To faithless _Silvia_, Fame.

I knew by his words he was _Pride_, or _Disdain_, and would have embraced him; but he put me off, seeing _Love_ still by me, who had not yet abandoned me, and turned himself from me with a regardless scorn, but I, who was resolved not to forsake so discreet a Counsellor, rather chose to take my leave of little _Love_; who had ever accompanyed me in this Voyage. But oh! this adieu was not taken so easily and soon as I imagined. _Love_ was not to be quitted without abundance of Sighs and Tears at parting, he had been a Witness to all my Adventures, my Confident in this Amour, and not to be deserted without a great deal of pain; I stayed so long in bidding the dear Boy adieu, that I had almost forgot _Disdain_; at last, though my Heart were breaking to part with the dear fondling, I was resolved and said;

Farewel, my little charming Boy!
Farewel, my fond delight,
My dear Instructor all the day,
My soft repose at night.
Thou, whom my Soul has so carest,
And my poor Heart has held so fast,
Thou never left me in my pain,
Nor in my happier hours;
Thou eas’d me when I did complain,
And dry’d my falling showrs.
When _Silvia_ frown’d still thou woud’st smile,
And all my Cares and Griefs beguile.

But _Silvia’s_ gone, and I have torn
Her Witchcrafts from my Heart;
And nobly fortify’d by scorn
Her Empire will subvert;
The Laws establish’d there destroy,
And bid adieu to the dear charming Boy.

In quitting _Love_ I was a great while before I could find _Disdain_, but I, at last, overtook him: He accompanyed me to a Village, where I received a Joy I had not known since my Arrival to the _Isle of Love_, and which Repose seemed the sweeter because it was new. When I came to this place, I saw all the World Easie, Idle, and at Liberty: This Village is like a Desart, and all the Inhabitants live within themselves, there is only one Gate, by which we enter into it from the _Isle of Love_.

This place is called _Indifference_, and takes its Name from a Princess inhabiting there, a Person very fair and well made; but has a Grace and Meen of so little Wit, and seems so inutile and so silly, that it renders her even ridiculous. As soon as I arrived there, I called to my remembrance all those affronts and cheats of Love, that _Silvia_ had put upon me, and which now served for my diversion, and were agreeable thoughts to me; so that I called myself Ten thousand Sots and Fools for resenting ‘em; and that I did not heartily despise ‘em, laugh at ’.m, and make my Pleasure with the false One as well as the rest; for she dissembled well, and for ought I knew, ‘twas but dissembled Love she paid my Rivals. But I, forsooth, was too nice a Coxcomb, I cou’d not feed as others did, and be contented with such Pleasures as she cou’d afford, but I must ingross all, and unreasonably believe a Woman of Youth and Wit had not a longer Race of Love to run than to my Arms alone. Well, ‘tis now confest I was a Fool, nor could I hinder myself from saying a thousand times a day;

That Coxcomb can ne’re be at ease,
While Beauty inslaves his Soul.
‘Tis Liberty only can please,
And he that’s Fetter’d is an Owl.

I found it very convenient and happy to dis-ingage from Love, and I have wond’red a thousand times at the Follies that God has made me commit: And though I som’times thought on _Silvia_, I thought her less charming and fair than she was before her fall; and the Humour I now was in represented her no more meriting that Passion I once had for her, and I fancied she had lost all those Graces for which once I lov’d her: In fine, I was so wholly recovered of my disease of Love for _Silvia_, that I began to be uneasie for want of employing my Addresses; and a change from so violent a Passion to such a degree of coldness, became insupportable to one of my Youth and I natural Gayety; insomuch, that I was seized with a Dulness, or Languishment, and so great a fit of Melancholy, as I had never felt the like; and my Heart, that was so accustomed to Love, was so out of Humour, that it had no Object or Business for thought, that it lost all its Harmony and Wit; it having nothing to excite it to Life and Motion, passing from so vast a degree of tenderness to an unconcern equally extream. I thought it rude, ill-bred, and idle, to live so indifferent and insignificant a Life. And walking perpetually by myself, (or with those of my own Sex, that could not make my diversion,) I sung all day this following Song to a Hum-drum Tune, to myself;

Not to sigh and to be tender,
Not to talk and prattle Love,
Is a Life no good can render,
And insipidly does move:
Unconcern do’s Life destroy,
Which, without Love, can know no Joy.

Life, without adoring Beauty,
Will be useless all the day;

Love’s a part of Human Duty,
And ‘tis Pleasure to obey.
In vain the Gods did Life bestow,
Where kinder Love has nought to do.

What is Life, but soft desires,
And that Soul, that is not made
To entertain what Love inspires,
Oh thou dull immortal Shade?
Thou’dst better part with Flesh and Blood,
Than be, where Life’s not understood.

These were my notions of Life; and I found myself altogether useless in the World without Love; methought I had nothing to animate me to Gallant things, without Love, or Women: I had no use of Wit or Youth without the fair, and yet I did not wish wholly to ingage myself neither a second time, having been so ill-treated before by Love: But I found there were ways to entertain one’s self agreeably enough without dying or venturing the breaking of a heart for the matter: That there were Beauties to be obtained without the hazard of hanging or drowning one’s self: I never had tried, but I found it natural enough to my Humour and Constitution, to flatter and dissemble, swear and lye; I viewed my self in my Glass, and found myself very well recovered from the Ruins my first Amour had made, and believed myself as fit for Conquest, as any Sir _Fopling_, or Sir _Courtly Nice_ of ‘em all. To this fine Person and good Meen and Shape, (as I thought,) I added handsom Dressing, the thing that takes the Heart infinitely above all your other Parts, and thus set out a snare for vain Beauty; I every day went out of the City of _Indifference_, to see what new Adventures I could meet withal.

One day I incountred a Woman, who, at first sight appeared very agreeable; she had an Air easie, free, and Galliard; such as fails not to take at first view: This was _Coquettre_, who, the very first time she saw me, Addrest herself to me with very great Complisance and good Humour, and invited me to her Apartment, where she assured me I should not fail to be entertained very agreeably; and at the same time pulling out of her Pocket a Paper, she shewed me these Words written;

Let Love no more your Heart inspire,
Thô Beauty every hour you see;
Pass no farther than desire,
If you’ll truly happy be.
Every day fresh Objects view,
And for all have Complisance.
Search all places still for new,
And to all make some Advance;
For where Wit and Youth agree,
There’s no Life like Gallantry.

_Laura’s_ Heart you may receive,
And to morrow _Julia’s_ prise:
Take what young _Diana_ gives,
Pity _Lucia_ when she dies:
_Portia’s_ Face you must admire,
And to _Clorin’s_ Shape submit,
_Phillis_ Dancing gives you Fire,
_Celia’s_ Softness, _Clara’s_ Wit.
Thus all at once you may persue,
‘Tis too little to Love two.

The powerful smiling God of Hearts
So much tenderness imparts,
You must upon his Altars lay
A thousand Offerings every day:
And so soft is kind desire;
Oh! so Charming is the Fire,
That if nice _Adraste_ scorns,
Gentler _Ariadne_ burns.
Still Another keep in play
(If One refuse,) to give you Joy.

Cease therefore to disturb your Hours,
For having two desires
A Heart can manage two Amours,
And burn with several Fires.
The day has hours enough in store
To visit two or half a score.

I gave her thanks for her good Counsel, and found I needed not much persuasion to follow _Coquettre_ to a City that bears her Name, and I saw over the Gate of the City at my Entrance, these Verses writ in Gold Letters;

The God of Love beholding every day
Slaves from his Empire to depart away;
(For Hearts that have been once with Love fatigu’d,
A second time are ne’r again intrigu’d:
No second Beauty e’r can move
The Soul to that degree of Love;)
This City built, that we might still obey,
Thô we refus’d his Arbitrary Sway:
‘Tis here we find a grateful Recompence
For all Loves former Violence;
Tir’d with his Laws we hither come
To meet a kinder softer doom.
‘Tis here the God, without the Tyrant, Reigns,
And Laws agreeable ordains;
Here ‘tis with Reason and with Wit he Rules,
And whining Passion Ridicules.
No check or bound to Nature gives,
But kind desire rewarded thrives.
Peevish uneasy Pride, the God
Has banish’d from the blest abode:
All Jealousies, all Quarrels cease,
And here Love lives in perfect Peace.

This agreeable description, gave me new desire to enter into the City; where I incountred a thousand fine Persons all gloriously drest, as if they were purposely set out for Conquest: There was nothing omitted of Cost and Gallantry, that might render ‘em intirely Charming, and they employ’d all their Arts of Looks and Dress to gain Hearts.

It is, in a word, from these fair Creatures you are to draw your Satisfaction, and ‘tis indeed at a dear rate you buy it, yet, notwithstanding the Expence, a world of People persue ‘em.

When I came into the City, I was soon perceived to be a Stranger there, and while I was considering whither I should go, or how to address myself to these fair Creatures, a little _Coquette Cupid_ presented himself to me for a kind Instructer; and to explain him, this in a word is his Character:

He is of the same Race with the other _Cupids_, has the same Mother too, _Venus_: He wears a Bow and Arrows, like the rest of the young Loves; but he has no Bando, nothing to cover his Eyes, but he sees perfectly; nor has he any _Flambeau_: And all the Laws of _Coquettre_ he understands and observes exactly.

I had no sooner received the little Charming God, but he instructed me in all the most powerful Arts to please, in all his little wiles and agreeable deceits; all which he admits of as the most necessary Recourses to that great end of Man, his true diversion: With all which I was so extreamly pleased, that resolving to be his Votary, I followed him to the most delightful place in the World, the City of _Gallantry_.

_Gallantry_ is a City very magnificent; at the Entrance of the Gate you incounter _Liberality_, a Woman of great Wit, delicate Conversation and Complisance: This Lady gives her Passport to all that enter, and without which, you cannot pass, or at least, with great difficulty; and then too you pass your time but very ill; and the more Pasports you have, the better you are received from the fair Inhabitants, and pass your time more agreeable with the fine Conversation you meet with in this City. Love told me this, and it was therefore that I took a great many Pasports from this acceptable Person _Liberality_. But what renders you yet more Favoured by the Fair and the Young who reside at _Gallantry_, is, to have a delicate soft Wit, an assiduous Address and a tender way of Conversing; but that which best cullies and pleases the Generality of People there, is _Liberality_ and _Complisance_: This place of so great Divertisement is re-frequented with all the Parties of the best and most amiable Company, where they invent a thousand new Pleasures every day; Feasting, Balls, Comedies, and Sports, Singing and Serenades, are what employs the whole Four and twenty hours.

By the Virtue of my Pasports from _Liberality_, I was introduced to all the fine Conversations and Places that afford Pleasure and Delight: I had the good Fortune to make Parties, insomuch, that I was soon known to all the Company in the City, and past the day in Feasting, going with the Young and Fair to delightful _Villa’s_, Gardens, or Rivers in Chases, and a thousand things that pleas’d; and the Nights I passed in Serenading, so that I did not give myself time for Melancholy; and yet for all this I was wearied and fatigued; for when once one has tasted of the Pleasure of Loving and being Beloved, all, that comes after that, is but flat and dull; and if one’s Heart be not a little inflamed, all things else are insignificant, and make but very slight touches.

I began therefore for all this to be extreamly Shagreen and out of Humour, amidst all these Pleasures, till one lucky day I met with an Adventure, that warmed my Heart with a tender flame which it had not felt since my happy beginning one for _Silvia_: One day, as I said, I was conducted by my officious _Cupid_ into a Garden very beautiful, where there are a thousand Labyrinths and Arbours, Walks, Grotto’s, Groves and Thickets; and where all the Fair and the Gay resorted; ‘twas here I incountred a young Beauty called _Bellinda_; she was well made, and had an admirable meen, an Air of Gayety and Sweetness; but that which charmed me most of all, was her Wit, which was too ingaging for me to defend my Heart against: I found mine immediately submitting to her Conversation, and you may imagine I did not part with her so long as Decency and good Manners permitted me to stay with her, which was as long as any Company was in the place; nor then, till by my importunity I had gained so much upon her to suffer my Visits, which she did with a Condescention that gave me abundance of hope.

I was no sooner gone, but my _Cupid_, who took care of me, and entertained me to the best Advantage, carried me that Evening to a Ball, where there were a world of Beauties, among the rest one fair as imagination can conceive; she had all the Charmes of Youth and Beauty; though not so much Wit and Air as _Bellinda_. To this young adorable I made my Court all the time I remained there, and fancied I never found myself so Charmed, I fancied all the Graces had taken up their dwelling in her Divine Face; and that to subdue one so fair and so innocent, must needs be an extream Pleasure: Yet did I not so wholly fix my desires on this lovely Person, but that the Wit of _Bellinda_ shared my Heart with the Beauty and Youth of _Bellimante_, so was this young Charmer called: I was extreamly well pleas’d to find I could anew take fire; and infinitely more, when I found I should not be subdued by one alone; nor confined to dull Dotage on a single Beauty; but that I was able to attain to the greatest Pleasure, that of Loving two amiable Persons at once: If with two, I hoped I might with Two score if I pleas’d and had occasion; and though at first it seemed to be very strange and improbable to feel a Passion for two, yet I found it true, and could not determin which I had the greatest tenderness for, or inclination to: But ‘tis most certain, that this night I found, or thought I found, more for _Bellimante_, who fired me with every Smile; I confess she wanted that Gayety of Spirit _Bellinda_ had, to maintain that fire she raised: And ever when I was thoughtful a moment, _Coquettre_ (who is ever in all the Conversation, and where she appears very magnificent and with a great Train,) would, smiling, sing softly in my Ear this Song, for she is very Galliard;

Cease to defend your Amorous Heart,
Against a double flame;
Where two may claim an equal Part
Without reproach or shame.
‘Tis Love that makes Life’s happiness,
And he that best wou’d live
By Love alone must Life caress,
And all his Darts receive.

_Coquettre_ is a Person, that endeavours to please and humour every Body, but of all those who every day fill her Train, she caresses none with that Address and Assiduity as she did me, for I was a new Face, to whom she is ever most obliging and entertaining. However, notwithstanding the Advice of _Coquettre_, I fancied this young Charmer had engaged all my Soul; and while I gazed on her Beauty, I thought on _Bellinda_ no more; but believed I should wholly devote myself to _Bellimante_, whose Eyes alone seemed capable to inflame me.