me believe, that Friendship and Love can't be contain'd in one Breast.
Is it possible you can be so much taken up with _Ambrisia_, that you
have not time enough to tell me of it; and that in this Solitude, I
should hear of _Cleander's_ Affairs from two or three, before I knew any
thing of 'em from himself: They tell me you are every day with your New
Mistress, and that you are well receiv'd there. I should be pleas'd with
it, if I did not fear, instead of finding two Friends, to lose that one,
whose Friendship I prefer to all other things: But you'll make me almost
Jealous of her if you don't write quickly, for this is my fourth since
I've heard from you. Tell me _Cleander_, you that search into the Nature
of things, that know the Passions of Men; how they are form'd in the
Soul, and by what means, and what Degrees they rise; tell me how I may
give that Awe, that fear, or that Respect which I hear often talk'd of,
that makes Men not dare to tell a Woman that they love her. Is it the
Grave, the Sour, the Proud, or modest Looks? Or is there no such thing,
but in Songs and Romances? For my part, I could never meet with it; and
tho' perhaps there is some Pleasure in being belov'd, I cannot endure to
be told of it, unless by the Language of the Eyes, or so; for that we
need not understand: But there's nothing so dull, or so troublesome to
me, as a declar'd Lover: This Reflection was occasion'd by an Adventure
happen'd to me two days ago; a Stripling of Eighteen, whose Father and
Mother had been Servants in the Family where I am, said to one in the
House (who told me) that he was in Love with me, and after had the
Insolence to tell me himself, that he was in Love; _But you little think
with whom, Madam_, added he; and just as he was going to finish his
Declaration, by good Fortune he was call'd away: Can any thing be more
provoking? Teach me where to place my Anger, on the Men, or on my self.
_Antonio_ was bashful to a Fault in other things, and yet he did not
fear to say all he thought, and it may be more to me. _Cloridon_, who
treated me with the highest Respect imaginable, discover'd his Love to
me, as soon as he knew it himself; and many have pretended it, that
never felt any, at least for me. The last indeed had encouragement
enough, not to repent of what he had done, and Reason not to despair of
any thing he could ask; so that after being two Years contented with my
Love, he resolv'd to put it to the Trial, and begun to pretend to
Favours, with all the Arguments he could invent, or find, to perswade me
of the innocence and lawfulness of what he ask'd: You may find what
influence they had upon me by the following Lines, which he sent me in a
Letter next day.
I.
_NOT one kind Word, not one relenting Look?
The harsh, the cruel Doom to mitigate?
Your Native Sweetness, ev'n your Eyes forsook;
They shin'd, but in the fiercest form of Hate._
II.
_Is't Honour does these Rigid Laws impose;
That will no sign of gentleness allow;
That tells you 'tis a Crime to pity Foes,
And bids you all the utmost Rigour show?_
III.
_All Praise the Judge, unwilling to Condemn,
Where Clemency with Justice long Debates:
But he who Rig'rously insults, we blame,
And think the Man more than his Sin, he hates._
IV.
_Dare I my Judge accuse of Cruelty?
When at her Feet she saw her Slave implore,
With hasty Joy she gave the sad Decree:
I hate you, and will never see you more._
V.
_Ay! 'tis too plain, the false_ Olinda'_s pleas'd
To see the Captive's Death her Eyes had made:
As what she wish'd, she the Occasion seiz'd;
No Sigh a kind Reluctancy betray'd._
VI.
_If you intend to try your Power or Skill,
A Nobler way pursue the great Design:
The meanest Wretch on Earth knows how to kill;
But to preserve from Death's an Act Divine._
VII.
_Like Heav'n, you with a Breath can Recreate
Your Creature, that without you does not Live:
Say that you Love, and you r'voke my Fate;
And I'm Immortal if you can forgive._
VIII.
_My fiercest Wishes you shall then restrain,
And Love that tramples o'er my Heart subdue:
What doubt can of your mighty Pow'r remain,
When ever that submits and yields to you?_
I believe I spoke from my Heart, when I told him I hated him; I'm sure I
thought so then, when I saw him whom I believ'd to have an Esteem and
Respect for me, act as if he had neither. I said the most violent things
I could imagine against him, and left him without the least Reluctancy:
But my Rage, or Hate, was soon converted to a Quiet Stupid Grief, that
overwhelm'd my Soul, and left me not the Power of easing it the common
way, in Tears or Complaints. I saw that I must resolve never to see him
again, whatever it made me endure: And in fine, I saw all that could
make me unhappy, without any hopes of a Remedy; for tho' he writ to me
often to beg my Pardon, and Vow'd a thousand times he wou'd not be
guilty of the same fault again, tho' he were sure to be successful; yet
I prevail'd with my self absolutely to refuse to see him, with more
Resolution than I thought my self capable of; for I consider'd it was
dangerous to trust him, notwithstanding his Protestations, since he had
broke his Word before: And I don't know if I had not some Reason to
distrust my self, after having gone so far, as not only to suffer him
to talk to me of his Love, but to own mine to him. When he saw this
would not do, he had recourse to his old way of Writing upon Business;
but the Letter came first to my Hands, and so I stifled it, and said
nothing of it to my Mother. A Week after a Porter came to me, and said
he was sent by the Countess of ---- who desir'd me to go immediately to
her Lodgings, for she had something of great Consequence to tell me, and
that he left her at a place where she had Din'd, but she was just going
home. Away I went, and when they told me she was not at home, I thought
she would not fail of being there presently, and went up Stairs to Stay
for her: When I came into the Room, I saw _Cloridon_ there, and wou'd
have retir'd; but he civilly hinder'd me, and told me, he was waiting
for his Cousin (for this Lady was nearly related to him) whom he
expected to come in very soon; but 'twas a great happiness I came
before, and more than he cou'd have hop'd for from Fortune; for at first
he pretended it was Chance brought us together there; but he knew I must
find it out, and so to prevent my discovering it to the Lady, he told
me, that coming to Visit her, and not finding her at Home; it came into
his thoughts to send for me in her Name; for he knew that she us'd to
visit me, and often desir'd me to go abroad with her, or to bear her
Company at home; so that he hop'd he might succeed without being
suspected. I was in great confusion, and very angry at the Trick he had
put upon me; and yet I could not but be a little pleas'd at it too. I
lov'd to see him, and was glad of an opportunity to give him his Pardon,
which I did, but made a Vow never to consent to meet him in private,
tho' he begg'd it upon his Knees above an Hour, and said he would not
rise till I had granted it: I suppose he was not so good as his Word;
but I left him in that posture, and before I went away, and charg'd him
not to write to me any more. This Interview serv'd but to increase my
melancholy; I indulg'd it a long time, and thought upon nothing but what
sooth'd and added to it: But at length considering the occasion of my
misfortune, it represented itself to me, not only as my Folly, but my
Crime; and then I concluded it must be a Crime to grieve for the loss of
that, which 'twas a Crime to Love; and so fix'd a resolution of
overcoming my Passion, which I endeavour'd to do by Reason, and by
Diversions. Had I had you my Friend to assist me with your Counsels, I
had found it much less difficult; but now I had the strongest part of my
self to Combat without any Aid: I often gave Ground, and sometimes
suffer'd my self to be vanquish'd by the bewitching Reflections of what
unequall'd Satisfactions I had found in his Company, and how many happy
hours I enjoy'd with him; but some good Thought would rouse my Soul to
strive again, and then the Victory was mine. I find by Experience 'tis
but bravely, heartily, and thoroughly Resolving upon a thing, and 'tis
half done: There's no Passion, no Temptation so strong, but Resolution
can overcome: All is to be able to Resolve; there's the Point, for one
must lose a little of the first Ardour before one can do that; and many
of our Sex have ruin'd themselves, for want of time to think. 'Tis not a
constant settled purpose of Virtue will do; there must be particular
Resolutions for a particular Attack; 'Tis easie enough to say, no Man
shall prevail with me to do an ill thing; the difficulty is, such a Man
shall not; he that I love, he that 'tis Death for me to deny any thing
to: There I got the better of my self, and as last attain'd to a calm
serenity of Mind, which I have enjoy'd ever since, as much as can be
expected in such a World as this; and which nothing can disturb, if you
continue to have that Friendship for me which you have profess'd, and
which your Silence makes me almost doubt of; but there's hardly any
thing I could not more easily believe, than that _Cleander_ is False or
Inconstant. Write quickly, for I am impatient to know the Cause of this
unkindness to
_Your constant Friend_,
OLINDA.
[Decoration]
LETTER VII.
_AMbrisia's_ Cruel, Coy, Disdainful, and you believe she hates you; and
yet _Ambrisia_ took occasion at Play to impose upon you as a Penance,
not to write for a Month to one she believ'd you lov'd. If this had been
another's Case, you wou'd have discover'd that _Ambrisia's_ Jealous.
Trust me, she loves you, and only puts on the usual Disguises of Women
as sincere as she is; and give me leave to justifie her, and the rest of
our Sex in that Case: You have learn'd so well to feign Love, when you
have none, that 'tis very hard to discern Art from Nature; and 'tis but
reasonable we should be allow'd the less Guilty part of concealing ours,
till we can know whether you are sincere: Besides, we know those things
are most valu'd, that are obtain'd with most difficulty; and your
natural Inconstancy gives us Reason to use all means to make you prize
us as much as we can. Your selves too, encourage us in it, for you
despise a Woman that's easily gain'd, tho' you rail at the Dissembler;
and we can't begin to love just when you would have us; so that both for
our own sake and yours, 'tis sometimes necessary to deceive you: And I
believe I may add, that there is a Natural Modesty in some Women, that
makes 'em asham'd to own their Love. Mr. _Dryden_ in his _State of
Innocence_, gives our Mother _Eve_ a little of that; tho' some are of
Opinion, it had its Birth from your faithlessness; and that if you had
not been false, we had never been shie. If it be so, don't you think we
have Reason to be cautious in a thing of such Weight; But I need not
take such pains to defend this Cause, for mine was a Fault on the other
hand, a too easie discovery of my Love: And to speak the Truth, whatever
we are accus'd of, I believe that's the more general one. 'Tis only
those that are as Wise as your Mistress, that can have so much Command
over themselves, as to be guilty of the 'tother; tho' if she knew you as
well as I do, she wou'd find that she has no need to make use of any
Arts to try you, or to preserve you: However don't despair, the Mask
will soon fall off. You have Reason to wonder at my breaking off with
_Orontes_, since by what I have told you, _Cloridon_ cou'd be no
occasion of it: But suspend your amazement a little, tho' my Misfortunes
ended at Seventeen, my Adventures did not, and several things have
happenn'd to me in the Year I have pass'd since, which you are yet a
Stranger to. You neither know how my Acquaintance begun with _Orontes_,
nor why it ended. In the beginning of last Summer, when I was
endeavouring to divert my Love and Grief, I went with a Lady to see a
Play: She was not in humour to Dress, and would needs have me go
_Incognito_; and as we were coming out of the Play-House, we were seiz'd
upon by two Sparks, who swore they would not part with us; but that
either we should Sup with them, or they wou'd go with us. We did not
know how to be rid of these Impertinents, but we saw, if we took Coach,
we could not hinder them from going into it; so we resolv'd to walk to
our Mantua-maker, who liv'd hard by; and when we went in they left us,
as we thought: but a quarter of an hour after, they came up Stairs, and
tho' we were very angry at the Rudeness, yet they staid a pretty while;
and he that had at first apply'd himself to the other Lady, was very
pressing to be acquainted with her; but my Spark sat down just opposite
to me without saying a Word, only sometimes desir'd his Friend to go
away; which after he had plagu'd us half an Hour, they did: The next
Week I went to _Tunbridge_ with my Mother; and the first sight I saw at
the Wells, was this Gentleman: He came towards us very respectfully, and
said he was very glad of this opportunity of begging my Pardon, for the
Insolence he had been guilty of; he hop'd the Lady who was with us, whom
he had the Honour to know, would intercede for him. She that was in the
Country with us, and who you know is an intimate Friend of ours,
happen'd to be very well acquainted with him; and when we came home, she
told me that his Name was _Orontes_; that he was a Gentleman who had but
a small Fortune; but to repair it, he was Marry'd to a rich Widow above
Threescore and ten; that tho' she was very ill Natur'd, he was the best
Husband in the World to her, but he would take his pleasure abroad
sometimes, and she was extreamly Jealous. He came to visit this Lady,
and entreated her to carry him to see me; for he said he was sensible of
the Affront he had given me the first time he saw me, and that he was
very desirous of some Occasion to serve me; and he thought himself
obliged to tell me so, and to seek all Opportunities of doing it. She
consented to it; and he came often to see us, and was very obliging to
us. I will let you know my thoughts of him, because you can tell me if
they are just; for he said he was not the same Man with me as with any
Body else: He seem'd to me to have Wit enough, but 'twas rough and
unpolish'd; nothing of that Politeness which renders a Man agreeable in
Conversation. After the common Theams of the Weather, and News were
discuss'd, playing at Cards, or taking the Air, were certainly propos'd:
But I have heard, that in other places he was very entertaining, and had
a hundred pleasant Stories to divert the Company. What can be the reason
of this? I am sure he stood in no awe of me, as his future Actions
shew'd; and he always told me his Thoughts freely, but plain and blunt,
without giving 'em the turn of Gallantry, which is necessary to take;
and yet he could not want Breeding, for he always convers'd with People
of the First Quality. The Manner is often more look'd upon than the
Thing; and tho' I'm as little pleased with Forms as any Woman, yet in
some things 'tis the essential part; there are few Men, whose Esteem or
Respect I covet; but I would have all Men keep that distance with me, as
if I gave 'em Awe; but I could never obtain it of 'em; tho' none ever
gave me so much occasion to lament it as _Orontes_. Once, when he was at
our Lodging, my Mother was talking of a Journey she design'd the next
day about Ten Miles off, where she was to stay all Night: He asked me if
I went with her: I said _No_; and desired my Mother to return as soon as
she could; because I should be alone till then. It seems (as he told me
since) he had made an Appointment with a particular Friend of his about
Business of Importance; but having been long desired to see me alone, he
would not neglect this Occasion, and sent him an Epistolary Excuse in
these Words:
_My Wife thinks I am with you, but_ Olinda _told me she shall be alone
to day, and I don't know when I shall meet with so favourable an
Opportunity; so that you must excuse me; but I'll certainly see you to
morrow_.