[Here Mr. Lovelace lays himself under a curse, too shocking to be
repeated, if he revenge not himself upon the Lady, should he once more
get her into his hands.]
***
I have just now dismissed the sniveling toad Dorcas, who was introduced
to me for my pardon by the whining mother. I gave her a kind of negative
and ungracious forgiveness. Yet I shall as violently curse the two
nymphs, by-and-by, for the consequences of my own folly: and if this will
be a good way too to prevent their ridicule upon me, for losing so
glorious an opportunity as I had last night, or rather this morning.
I have corrected, from the result of the inquiries made of the chairman,
and from Dorcas's observations before the cruel creature escaped, a
description of her dress; and am resolved, if I cannot otherwise hear of
her, to advertise her in the gazette, as an eloped wife, both by her
maiden and acknowledged name; for her elopement will soon be known by
every enemy: why then should not my friends be made acquainted with it,
from whose inquiries and informations I may expect some tidings of her?
'She had on a brown lustring night-gown, fresh, and looking like new, as
every thing she wears does, whether new or not, from an elegance natural
to her. A beaver hat, a black ribbon about her neck, and blue knots on
her breast. A quilted petticoat of carnation-coloured satin; a rose
diamond ring, supposed on her finger; and in her whole person and
appearance, as I shall express it, a dignity, as well as beauty, that
commands the repeated attention of every one who sees her.'
The description of her person I shall take a little more pains about. My
mind must be more at ease, before I undertake that. And I shall
threaten, 'that if, after a certain period given for her voluntary
return, she be not heard of, I will prosecute any person who presumes to
entertain, harbour, abet, or encourage her, with all the vengeance that
an injured gentleman and husband may be warranted to take by law, or
otherwise.'
***
Fresh cause of aggravation!--But for this scribbling vein, or I should
still run mad.
Again going into her chamber, because it was her's, and sighing over the
bed, and every piece of furniture in it, I cast my eye towards the
drawers of the dressing-glass, and saw peep out, as it were, in one of
the half-drawn drawers, the corner of a letter. I snatched it out, and
found it superscribed, by her, To Mr. Lovelace. The sight of it made my
heart leap, and I trembled so, that I could hardly open the seal.
How does this damn'd love unman me!--but nobody ever loved as I love!--It
is even increased by her unworthy flight, and my disappointment.
Ungrateful creature, to fly from a passion thus ardently flaming! which,
like the palm, rises the more for being depressed and slighted.
I will not give thee a copy of this letter. I owe her not so much
service.
But wouldst thou think, that this haughty promise-breaker could resolve
as she does, absolutely and for ever to renounce me for what passed last
night? That she could resolve to forego all her opening prospects of
reconciliation; the reconciliation with a worthless family, on which she
has set her whole heart?--Yet she does--she acquits me of all obligation
to her, and herself of all expectations from me--And for what?--O that
indeed I had given her real cause! Damn'd confounded niceness, prudery,
affectation, or pretty ignorance, if not affectation!--By my soul,
Belford, I told thee all--I was more indebted to her struggles, than to
my own forwardness. I cannot support my own reflections upon a decency
so ill-requited.--She could not, she would not have been so much a
Harlowe in her resentment. All she feared had then been over; and her
own good sense, and even modesty, would have taught her to make the best
of it.
But if ever again I get her into my hands, art, and more art, and
compulsion too, if she make it necessary, [and 'tis plain that nothing
else will do,] shall she experience from the man whose fear of her has
been above even his passion for her; and whose gentleness and forbearance
she has thus perfidiously triumphed over. Well, says the Poet,
'Tis nobler like a lion to invade
When appetite directs, and seize my prey,
Than to wait tamely, like a begging dog,
Till dull consent throws out the scraps of love.
Thou knowest what I have so lately vowed--and yet, at times [cruel
creature, and ungrateful as cruel!] I can subscribe with too much truth
to those lines of another Poet:
She reigns more fully in my soul than ever;
She garrisons my breast, and mans against me
Ev'n my own rebel thoughts, with thousand graces,
Ten thousand charms, and new-discovered beauties!