MR. LOVELACE
[IN CONTINUATION.]
Well sayest thou, that mine is the most plotting heart in the world.
Thou dost me honour; and I thank thee heartily. Thou art no bad judge.
How like Boileau's parson I strut behind my double chin! Am I not
obliged to deserve thy compliment? And wouldst thou have me repent of a
murder before I have committed it?
'The Virtues and Graces are this Lady's handmaids. She was certainly
born to adorn the age she was given to.'--Well said, Jack--'And would be
an ornament to the first dignity.' But what praise is that, unless the
first dignity were adorned with the first merit?--Dignity! gew-gaw!--
First dignity! thou idiot!--Art thou, who knowest me, so taken with
ermine and tinsel?--I, who have won the gold, am only fit to wear it.
For the future therefore correct thy style, and proclaim her the ornament
of the happiest man, and (respecting herself and sex) the greatest
conqueror in the world.
Then, that she loves me, as thou imaginest, by no means appears clear to
me. Her conditional offers to renounce me; the little confidence she
places in me; entitle me to ask, What merit can she have with a man, who
won her in spite of herself; and who fairly, in set and obstinate battle,
took her prisoner?
As to what thou inferrest from her eye when with us, thou knowest nothing
of her heart from that, if thou imaginest there was one glance of love
shot from it. Well did I note her eye, and plainly did I see, that it
was all but just civil disgust to me and to the company I had brought her
into. Her early retiring that night, against all entreaty, might have
convinced thee, that there was very little of the gentle in her heart for
me. And her eye never knew what it was to contradict her heart.
She is, thou sayest, all mind. So say I. But why shouldst thou imagine
that such a mind as hers, meeting with such a one as mine, and, to dwell
upon the word, meeting with an inclination in hers, should not propagate
minds like her own?
Were I to take thy stupid advice, and marry; what a figure should I make
in rakish annals! The lady in my power: yet not have intended to put
herself in my power: declaring against love, and a rebel to it: so much
open-eyed caution: no confidence in my honour: her family expecting the
worst hath passed: herself seeming to expect that the worst will be
attempted: [Priscilla Partington for that!] What! wouldst thou not have
me act in character?
But why callest thou the lady innocent? And why sayest thou she loves
me?
By innocent, with regard to me, and not taken as a general character, I
must insist upon it she is not innocent. Can she be innocent, who, by
wishing to shackle me in the prime and glory of my youth, with such a
capacity as I have for noble mischief,* would make my perdition more
certain, were I to break, as I doubt I should, the most solemn vow I
could make? I say no man ought to take even a common oath, who thinks he
cannot keep it. This is conscience! This is honour!--And when I think I
can keep the marriage-vow, then will it be time to marry.
* See Vol. III. Letter XXIII. Paragr. 4.
No doubt of it, as thou sayest, the devils would rejoice in the fall of
such a woman. But this is my confidence, that I shall have it in my
power to marry when I will. And if I do her this justice, shall I not
have a claim of her gratitude? And will she not think herself the
obliged, rather than the obliger? Then let me tell thee, Belford, it is
impossible so far to hurt the morals of this lady, as thou and thy
brother varlets have hurt others of the sex, who now are casting about
the town firebrands and double death. Take ye that thistle to mumble
upon.
***
A short interruption. I now resume.
That the morals of this lady cannot fail, is a consideration that will
lessen the guilt on both sides. And if, when subdued, she knows but how
to middle the matter between virtue and love, then will she be a wife for
me: for already I am convinced that there is not a woman in the world
that is love-proof and plot-proof, if she be not the person.
And now imagine (the charmer overcome) thou seest me sitting supinely
cross-kneed, reclining on my sofa, the god of love dancing in my eyes,
and rejoicing in every mantling feature; the sweet rogue, late such a
proud rogue, wholly in my power, moving up slowly to me, at my beck, with
heaving sighs, half-pronounced upbraidings from murmuring lips, her
finger in her eye, and quickening her pace at my Come hither, dearest!
One hand stuck in my side, the other extended to encourage her bashful
approach--Kiss me, love!--sweet, as Jack Belford says, are the joys that
come with willingness.
She tenders her purple mouth [her coral lips will be purple then, Jack!]:
sigh not so deeply, my beloved!--Happier hours await thy humble love,
than did thy proud resistance.
Once more bent to my ardent lips the swanny glossiness of a neck late so
stately.--
There's my precious!
Again!
Obliging loveliness!