SYLVIA.

Cesario, _my dear, is coming to be your bail; with_ Monsieur _the Count of----I die to see you after your suffering for_ Sylvia.

_To_ SYLVIA.

BELIEVE me, charming _Sylvia_, I live not those hours I am absent from thee, thou art my life, my soul, and my eternal felicity; while you believe this truth, my _Sylvia_, you will not entertain a thousand fears, if I but stay a moment beyond my appointed hour; especially when _Philander_, who is not able to support the thought that any thing should afflict his lovely baby, takes care from hour to hour to satisfy her tender doubting heart. My dearest, I am gone into the city to my advocate's, my trial with _Monsieur_ the Count, your father, coming on to-morrow, and it will be at least two tedious hours ere I can bring my adorable her

PHILANDER.

_To_ SYLVIA.

I was called on, my dearest child, at my advocate's by _Cesario_; there is some great business this evening debated in the cabal, which is at _Monsieur----_ in the city; _Cesario_ tells me there is a very diligent search made by _Monsieur_ the Count, your father, for my _Sylvia_; I die if you are taken, lest the fright should hurt thee; if possible, I would have thee remove this evening from those lodgings, lest the people, who are of the royal party, should be induced through malice or gain to discover thee; I dare not come myself to wait on thee, lest my being seen should betray thee, but I have sent _Brilliard_ (whose zeal for thee shall be rewarded) to conduct thee to a little house in the _Faubourg St Germain_, where lives a pretty woman, and mistress to _Chevalier Tomaso_, called _Belinda_, a woman of wit, and discreet enough to understand what ought to be paid to a maid of the quality and character of _Sylvia_; she already knows the stories of our loves; thither I'll come to thee, and bring _Cesario_ to supper, as soon as the cabal breaks up. Oh, my _Sylvia_, I shall one day recompense all thy goodness, all thy bravery, thy love and thy suffering for thy eternal lover and slave,

PHILANDER.

_To_ PHILANDER.

So hasty I was to obey _Philander_'s commands, that by the unwearied care and industry of the faithful _Brilliard_, I went before three o'clock disguised away to the place whither you ordered us, and was well received by the very pretty young woman of the house, who has sense and breeding as well as beauty: but oh, _Philander_, this flight pleases me not; alas, what have I done? my fault is only love, and that sure I should boast, as the most divine pa.s.sion of the soul; no, no, _Philander_, it is not my love's the criminal, no, not the placing it on _Philander_ the crime, but it is thy most unhappy circ.u.mstances, thy being married, and that was no crime to heaven till man made laws, and can laws reach to d.a.m.nation? If so, curse on the fatal hour that thou wert married, curse on the priest that joined ye, and curst be all that did contribute to the undoing ceremony----except _Philander_'s tongue, that answered yes--oh, heavens! Was there but one dear man of all your whole creation that could charm the soul of _Sylvia_! And could ye--oh, ye wise all-seeing powers that knew my soul, could ye give him away? How had my innocence offended ye? Our hearts you did create for mutual love, how came the dire mistake?

Another would have pleased the indifferent _Myrtilla_'s soul as well, but mine was fitted for no other man; only _Philander_, the adored _Philander_, with that dear form, that shape, that charming face, that hair, those lovely speaking eyes, that wounding softness in his tender voice, had power to conquer _Sylvia_; and can this be a sin? Oh, heavens, can it? Must laws, which man contrived for mere conveniency, have power to alter the divine decrees at our creation?--Perhaps they argue to-morrow at the bar, that _Myrtilla_ was ordained by heaven for _Philander_; no, no, he mistook the sister, it was pretty near he came, but by a fatal error was mistaken; his hasty youth made him too negligently stop before his time at the wrong woman, he should have gazed a little farther on--and then it had been _Sylvia_'s lot----It is fine divinity they teach, that cry marriages are made in heaven--folly and madness grown into grave custom; should an unheedy youth in heat of blood take up with the first convenient she that offers, though he be an heir to some grave politician, great and rich, and she the outcast of the common stews, coupled in height of wine, and sudden l.u.s.t, which once allayed, and that the sober morning wakes him to see his error, he quits with shame the jilt, and owns no more the folly; shall this be called a heavenly conjunction? Were I in height of youth, as now I am, forced by my parents, obliged by interest and honour, to marry the old, deformed, diseased, decrepit Count _Anthonio_, whose person, qualities and principles I loathe, and rather than suffer him to consummate his nuptials, suppose I should (as sure I should) kill myself, it were blasphemy to lay this fatal marriage to heaven's charge----curse on your nonsense, ye imposing gownmen, curse on your holy cant; you may as well call rapes and murders, treason and robbery, the acts of heaven; because heaven suffers them to be committed. Is it heaven's pleasure therefore, heaven's decree? A trick, a wise device of priests, no more----to make the nauseated, tired-out pair drag on the careful business of life, drudge for the dull-got family with greater satisfaction, because they are taught to think marriage was made in heaven; a mighty comfort that, when all the joys of life are lost by it: were it not n.o.bler far that honour kept him just, and that good nature made him reasonable provision? Daily experience proves to us, no couple live with less content, less ease, than those who cry heaven joins? Who is it loves less than those that marry? And where love is not, there is hate and loathing at best, disgust, disquiet, noise and repentance: no, _Philander_, that's a heavenly match when two souls touched with equal pa.s.sion meet, (which is but rarely seen)--when willing vows, with serious considerations, are weighed and made, when a true view is taken of the soul, when no base interest makes the hasty bargain, when no conveniency or design, or drudge, or slave, shall find it necessary, when equal judgements meet that can esteem the blessings they possess, and distinguish the good of either's love, and set a value on each other's merits, and where both understand to take and pay; who find the beauty of each other's minds and rate them as they ought; whom not a formal ceremony binds, (with which I've nought to do, but dully give a cold consenting affirmative) but well considered vows from soft inclining hearts, uttered with love, with joy, with dear delight, when heaven is called to witness; she is thy wife, _Philander_ he is my husband; this is the match, this heaven designs and means; how then, oh how came I to miss _Philander_? Or he his

SYLVIA.

_Since I writ this, which I designed not an invective against marriage, when I began, but to inform thee of my being where you directed; but since I write this, I say, the house where I am is broken open with warrants and officers for me, but being all undressed and ill, the officer has taken my word for my appearance to-morrow, it seems they saw me when I went from my lodgings, and pursued me; haste to me, for I shall need your counsel_.

_To_ SYLVIA.

My eternal joy, my affliction is inexpressible at the news you send me of your being surprised; I am not able to wait on thee yet--not being suffered to leave the cabal, I only borrow this minute to tell thee the sense of my advocate in this case; which was, if thou should be taken, there was no way, no law to save thee from being ravished from my arms, but that of marrying thee to some body whom I can trust; this we have often discoursed, and thou hast often vowed thou'lt do any thing rather than kill me with a separation; resolve then, oh thou charmer of my soul, to do a deed, that though the name would fright thee, only can preserve both thee and me; it is--and though it have no other terror in it than the name, I faint to speak it--to marry, _Sylvia_; yes, thou must marry; though thou art mine as fast as heaven can make us, yet thou must marry; I have pitched upon the property, it is _Brilliard_, him I can only trust in this affair; it is but joining hands--no more, my _Sylvia_,--_Brilliard_ is a gentleman, though a _cadet_, and may be supposed to pretend to so great a happiness, and whose only crime is want of fortune; he is handsome too, well made, well bred, and so much real esteem he has for me, and I have so obliged him, that I am confident he will pretend no farther than to the honour of owning thee in Court; I'll time him from it, nay, he dares not do it, I will trust him with my life--but oh, _Sylvia_ is more--think of it, and this night we will perform it, there being no other way to keep _Sylvia_ eternally

PHILANDER's.

_To_ SYLVIA.

Now, my adorable _Sylvia_, you have truly need of all that heroic bravery of mind I ever thought thee mistress of; for _Sylvia_, coming from thee this morning, and riding full speed for _Paris_, I was met, stopped, and seized for high-treason by the King's messengers, and possibly may fall a sacrifice to the anger of an incensed monarch. My _Sylvia_, bear this last shock of fate with a courage worthy thy great and glorious soul; 'tis but a little separation, _Sylvia_, and we shall one day meet again; by heaven, I find no other sting in death but parting with my _Sylvia_, and every parting would have been the same; I might have died by thy disdain, thou might'st have grown weary of thy _Philander_, have loved another, and have broke thy vows, and tortured me to death these crueller ways: but fate is kinder to me, and I go blest with my _Sylvia_'s, love, for which heaven may do much, for her dear sake, to recompense her faith, a maid so innocent and true to sacred love; expect the best, my lovely dear, the worst has this comfort in it, that I shall die my charming _Sylvia_'s

PHILANDER.

_To_ PHILANDER.

I'LL, only say, thou dear supporter of my soul, that if _Philander_ dies, he shall not go to heaven without his _Sylvia_--by heaven and earth I swear it, I cannot live without thee, nor shall thou die without thy

SYLVIA.

_To_ SYLVIA.

SEE, see my adorable angel, what care the powers above take of divine innocence, true love and beauty; oh, see what they have done for their darling _Sylvia_; could they do less?

Know, my dear maid, that after being examined before the King, I was found guilty enough to be committed to the _Bastille_, (from whence, if I had gone, I had never returned, but to my death;) but the messenger, into whose hands I was committed, refusing other guards, being alone with me in my own coach, I resolved to kill, if I could no other way oblige him to favour my escape; I tried with gold before I shewed my dagger, and that prevailed, a way less criminal, and I have taken sanctuary in a small cottage near the sea-sh.o.r.e, where I wait for _Sylvia_; and though my life depend upon my flight, nay, more, the life of _Sylvia_, I cannot go without her; dress yourself then, my dearest, in your boy's clothes, and haste with _Brilliant_, whither this seaman will conduct thee, whom I have hired to set us on some sh.o.r.e of safety; bring what news you can learn of _Cesario_; I would not have him die poorly after all his mighty hopes, nor be conducted to a scaffold with shouts of joys, by that uncertain beast the rabble, who used to stop his chariot-wheels with fickle adorations whenever he looked abroad--by heaven, I pity him; but _Sylvia_'s presence will chase away all thoughts, but those of love, from

PHILANDER.

_I need not bid thee haste._

_The End of the first Part._

Love-Letters Between a n.o.bleman and His Sister

Part II.

At the end of the first part of these letters, we left _Philander_ impatiently waiting on the sea-sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sed into _Holland_, landing at the nearest port; where, after having refreshed themselves for two or three days, they pa.s.sed forwards towards the _Brill_, _Sylvia_ still remaining under that amiable disguise: but in their pa.s.sage 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 n.o.bleman. 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 s.e.x: _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_'s, 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 s.e.x 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 s.e.x 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 pa.s.sed 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 n.o.bly 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 ash.o.r.e, where _Octavio_'s 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 s.e.x 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 pa.s.sion 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 a.s.sume, 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 a.s.sisted 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_'s va.s.sal. 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 s.e.x 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 s.e.x; 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 s.e.x: 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 pa.s.sion 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 ill.u.s.trious, 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 s.e.xes, 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 s.e.x, 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 pa.s.sion, 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_'s 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_'s 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_'s: 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 a.s.sistance of your

OCTAVIO.

_From the Council, Wednesday_.