LETTERS AND POEMS, AMOROUS AND GALLANT.
LONDON
Printed for Iacob Tonson at the Iudge's-Head in Chancery-Lane near Fleet-Street. 1692.
PREFACE.
IT has been so usual among modern Authors to write Prefaces, that a Man is thought rude to his Reader, who does not give him some Account before hand, of what he is to expect in the Book. That which may make somewhat of this kind more necessary in my Case, than others is, That a great part of this Collection consists of familiar Letters, which sort of Writings some Learned Persons among us have thought unfit to be publish'd. It must be confess'd, indeed, that a great Beauty of Letters does often consist in little Passages of private Conversation, and references to particular Matters, that can be understood by none but those to whom they are written: But to draw a general Conclusion from thence, That familiar Letters can please none, but those very Persons, is to conclude against the common Experience of all the World; since besides the great applauses have been given the Letters of Cicero [Page] and Pliny among the Romans; we see no Book has been better received among the Spaniards, than the Letters of Guevara; or among the French, than those of Voiture and Balsac: Not to mention the Italians, among whom there has been hardly any considerable Man, who has not publish'd Letters with good Success. What may have contributed very much to the kind Reception these things have met, is, that there is no sort of Writing so necessary for People to understand as this. A Man may have a great deal of Wit, without being able to write Verses or make Harangues; and may live in very good repute, without having occasion of doing either. But a Man can hardly live in the World, without being able to write Letters. There is no state of Life in which a Faculty of that kind is not requisite; and there are few Days pass, in which a Man has not occasion to make use of it.
The Stile of Letters ought to be free, easy and natural; as near approaching to familiar Conversation as possible. The two best Qualities in Conversation, are good Humour and good Breeding; those Letters are therefore certainly [Page] the best that shew the most of those two Qualities. There are some Men so surly, so ill natur'd, and so ill-bred, that tho' we can hardly deny 'em to have Wit; yet we can say, at least, that we are sorry they have it. And indeed, as their Wit is troublesome to other People, so I can hardly imagine of what great use it can be to themselves. For if the end of Wit, be not to render one self agreeable, I shall scarce envy 'em any other use they can make of it.
The second Part of this Collection consists of Amorous Verses. Those who are conversant with the Writings of the Antients, will observe a great difference between what they, and the Moderns have publish'd upon this Subject. The occasions upon which the Poems of the former are written, are such as happen to every Man almost that is in Love; and the Thoughts such, as are natural for every Man in love to think. The Moderns on the other hand have sought out for Occasions, that none meet with, but themselves; and fill their Verses with thoughts that are surprizing and glittering, but not tender, passionate, or natural to a Man in Love.
[Page] To judge which of these two are in the right; we ought to consider the end that People propose in writing Love-Verses: And that I take not to be the getting Fame or Admiration from the World, but the obtaining the Love of their Mistress; and the best way I conceive to make her love you, is to convince her that you love her. Now this certainly is not to be done by forc'd Conceits, far fetch'd Similes, and shining Points; but by a true and lively Representation of the Pains and Thoughts attending such a Passion.
I would assoon believe a Widow in great grief for her Husband, because I saw her dance a Corant about his Coffin, as believe a Man in Love with his Mistress for his writing such Verses, as some great Modern Wits have done upon theirs.
I am satisfied that Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, and Ovid, were in love with their Mistresses, while they upbraid them, quarrel with them, threaten them, and forswear [Page] them; but I confess I cannot believe Petrarch in Love with his, when he writes Conceits upon her Name, her Gloves, and the place of her Birth. I know it is natural for a Lover, in Transports of Iealousie, to treat his Mistress with all the Violence imaginable; but I cannot think it natural for a Man, who is much in Love, to amuse himself with such Trifles as the other. I am pleas'd with Tibullus, when he says, he could live in a Desart with his Mistress, where never any Humane Foost-steps appear'd, because, I doubt not but he really thinks what he says; but I confess I can hardly for bear laughing when Petrarch tells us, he could live without any other sustenance than his Mistresses Looks. I can very easily believe a Man may love a Woman so well, as to desire no Company but hers; but I can never believe a Man can love a Woman so well, as to have no need of Meat and Drink, if he may look upon her. The first is a Thought so natural for a Lover, that there is no Man really in Love, but thinks the same thing; the other is not the thought of a Man in Love, but of a Man who would impose upon us with a pretended Love (and that indeed [Page] very grosly too) while he had really none at all.
It would be endless to pursue this Point; and any Man who will but give himself the trouble to compare what the Ancients and Moderns have said upon the same Occasions, will soon perceive the advantage the former have over the others. I have chosen to mention Petrarch only, as being by much the most famous of all the Moderns who have written Love-Verses: And it is, indeed, the great Reputation which he has gotten, that has given Encouragement to this false sort of Wit in the World: for People seeing the great Credit he had, and has, indeed, to this day, not only in Italy, but over all Europe; have satisfied themselves with the Imitation of him, never enquiring whether the way he took was the right or not.
There are no Modern Writers, perhaps, who have succeeded better in Love-Verses than the English; and it is indeed just that the fairest Ladies should inspire the best Poets. Never was there a more copious Fancy or greater reach of Wit, than what appears in Dr. Donne; nothing can be more gallant or gentile than the [Page] Poems of Mr. Waller; nothing more gay or sprightly than those of Sir Iohn Suckling; and nothing fuller of Variety and Learning than Mr. Cowley's. However, it may be observ'd, that among all these, that Softness, Tenderness, and Violence of Passion, which the Ancients thought most proper for Love-Verses, is wanting: and at the same time that we must allow Dr. Donne to have been a very great Wit; Mr. Waller a very gallant Writer; Sir Iohn Suckling a very gay one, and Mr. Cowley a great Genius; yet metbinks I can hardly fancy any one of them to have been a very great Lover. And it grieves me that the Ancients, who could never have handsomer Women than we have, should nevertheless be so much more in Love than we are. But it is probable the great Reason of this may be the Cruelty of our Ladies; for a Man must be imprudent indeed to let his Passion take very deep root, when he has no reason to expect any sort of return to it. And if it be so, there ought to be a Petition made to the Fair, that they would be pleas'd sometimes to abate a little of their Rigor, for the propagation of good Verse. I do not [Page] mean, that they should confer their Favours upon none but Men of Wit: that would be too great a Confinement indeed: but that they would admit them upon the same foot with other People; and if they please now and then to make the Experiment, I fancy they will find Entertainment enough from the very Variety of it.
There are three sorts of Poems that are proper for Love: Pastorals, Elegies, and Lyrick Verses; under which last I comprehend all Songs, Odes, Sonnets, Madrigals and Stanza's. Of all these, Pastoral is the lowest, and, upon that account, perhaps most proper for Love; since it is the Nature of that Passion to render the Soul soft and humble. These three sorts of Poems ought to differ, not only in their Numbers, but in the Designs, and in every Thought of them. Though we have no Difference between the Verses of Pastoral and Elegy in the Modern Languages; yet the Numbers of the first ought to be looser and not so sonorous as the other; the Thoughts more simple, more easy and more humble. The Design ought to be the representing the [Page] Life of a Shepherd, not only by talking of Sheep and Fields, but by showing us the Truth, Sincerity and Innocence that accompanies that sort of Life. For though I know our Masters, Theocritus and Virgil, have not always conform'd in this Point of Innocence; Theocritus, in his Daphnis, having made his Love too wanton, and Virgil, in his Alexis, plac'd his Passion upon a Boy; yet (if we may be allow'd to censure those whom we must always reverence) I take both those things to be Faults in their Poems, and should have been better pleas'd with the Alexis, if it had been made to a Woman; and with the Daphnis, if he had made his Shepherds more modest. When I give Humility and Modesty as the Character of Pastoral, it is not, however, but that a Shepherd may be allow'd to boast of his Pipe, his Songs, his Flocks, and to shew a Contempt of his Rival, as we see both Theocritus and Virgil do. But this must be still in such a manner, as if the Occasion offer'd it self, and was not sought, and proceeded rather from the Violence of the Shepherd's Passion, than any natural Pride or Malice in him.
[Page] There ought to be the same difference observ'd between Pastorals and Elegies, as between the Life of the Country and the Court. In the first, Love ought to be represented as among Shepherds, in the other as among Gentlemen. They ought to be smooth, clear, tender and passionate. The Thoughts may be bold, more gay, and more elevated than in Pastoral. The Passions they represent, either more Gallant or more Violent, and less innocent than the others. The subjects of them, Prayers, Praises, Expostulations, Quarrels, Reconcilements, Threatnings, Iealousies, and, in fine, all the natural Effects of Love.
Lyricks may be allow'd to handle all the same subjects with Elegy; but to do it however in a different manner. An Elegy ought to be so entirely one thing, and every Verse ought so to depend upon the other, that they should not be able to subsist alone: Or, to make use of the words of a My Lord Mulgrave. great Modern Critick, there must be
[Page] Lyricks on the other hand, tho' they ought to make one Body as well as the other, yet may consist of Parts that are entire of themselves. It being a Rule in Modern Languages, that every Stanza ought to make up a compleat sence, without running into the other. Frequent Sentences which are accounted Faults in Elegies, are Beauties here. Besides this, Malherb, and the French Poets after him, have made it a Rule in the Stanzas of six Lines, to make a pause at the third; and in those of ten Lines, at the third and the seventh. And it must be confest that this exactness renders them much more Musical and Harmonious; tho' they have not always been so Religious in observing the latter Rule as the former.
But I am engaged in a very vain, or a very foolish Design: Those who are Criticks, it wou'd be a presumption in me to pretend I cou'd instruct; and to instruct those who are not, at the same time I write my self, is (if I may be allow'd to apply another Man's Simile) like selling Arms to an Enemy in time of War. Tho' there ought, perhaps, to be more indulgence shewn to things of Love and Gallantry, than any [Page] others; because they are generally written when People are young, and intended for Ladies who are not supposed to be very old; and all young People, especially of the fair Sex, are more taken with the liveliness of Fancy, than the correctness of Iudgment. It may be also observ'd, that to write of Love well, a Man must be really in Love; and to correct his Writings well, he must be out of Love again. I am well enough satisfi'd, I may be in Circumstances of writing of Love; but I am almost in despair of ever being in Circumstances of correcting it. This I hope may be a Reason for the Fair and the Young, to pass over some of the Faults; and as for the Grave and Wise, all the Favour I shall beg of them is, that they wou'd not read'em. Things of this Nature, are calculated only for the former. If Love-Verses work upon the Ladies, a Man will not trouble himself with what the Criticks say of them; and if they do not, all the Commendations the Criticks can give him, will make but very little amends. All I shall say for these trifles is, That I pretend not to vye with any Man whatsoever. I doubt not but there are several now living, who are able to [Page] write better upon all Subjects, than I am upon any one: But I will take the boldness to say, That there is no one Man among them all, who shall be readier to acknowledge his own Faults, or to do Iustice to the Merits of other People.
LETTERS Gallant & Amorous.
LETTER I.
To two Masques.
THough I cannot boast much of Particularity to the Person I love, yet as to the Love it self, I may safely say, It is one of the most particular under the Sun. Others think it enough to fall in love with a Lady after having seen her. I am in love with two, without having ever seen either: Not that I would willingly admit two Tyrants into my Heart; but [Page 2] though one of you may perhaps be Monarch there, yet neither you nor I knowing which it is, the matter must rest in doubt 'till another opportunity. For he who condemned Paris as too bold a Man, in daring to judge of the three Goddesses Beauties, when he saw 'em naked, would have thought me a bold one indeed, if I shou'd pretend to make a Iudgment between two Ladies in Masques. Consider a little under what difficulties you make me labour: If I shou'd commend the Colour of your Hair, and it was all the while deep red; the smoothness and delicacy of your Skins, when they were rough and tawney; the fineness of your Shapes, while you were stuck up within Iron Bodice; the brightness of your Eyes, and they shou'd prove blear'd and squinting. Do but imagine when I had done this, what sort of an Effect it wou'd have upon you. Whatever Inconveniences of this nature happen, [Page 3] it is your own Faults; for my part I leave this encountring with Helmets over their Faces, to Sir Amadis and his Knights Errant; the way of Duelling is alter'd, People do not only encounter barefac'd, but strip when they go to it. As for this way, I can assure you, I find it not in the least fair; and had rather be in love with the most hard-hearted Beauty living, than continue in this uncertain state, and neither know what I love, why I love, nor whether I love, or no. Take pity, Ladies, upon a Lover in distress; clear the Business to me, and let me know if I am in good earnest, when I profess my self
LETTER II.
To one of the former.
IT is by Faith alone that I fansie you the most charming, but I find by Experience you are one of the most unreasonable Ladies under the Sun. I concluded I had done the boldest Action in the World, to declare a Passion to two Masques; but you, Madam, set up a Title of your own, and are not satisfied without Particularity, and Constancy. Your Charms I confess, Madam, as far as I saw of them, are very great: The Masque was very good Genoa Velvet; the Gloves very good Blois Gloves, and the Hackney Coach, for ought I know, lin'd with very good green Plush. Now, Madam, though so far I do stedfastly believe, yet to fall constantly [Page 5] and particularly in love with Masques, Gloves, or Hackney-Coaches, is what I do not find a Precedent for, in any of the French Romances; and being naturally diffident of my self, I shou'd be loth to begin a new sort of Gallantry, without knowing how it wou'd take. Consider, Madam, a little better upon the reasonableness of your Request; for Particularity and Constancy are very hardly to be answer'd for, at our Years. It is, I doubt not, Madam, in your power to blow my Love up to that heighth whenever you please; and to confess a truth to you, I have a very great Stock of Particularity and Constancy lying upon my Hands at this time, and know not how to apply it. I have all the reason in the World to imagine it is kept for you; but however, Madam, it wou'd be necessary to have one view of you, before I can be positive in that point. I am satisfied in [Page 6] my Conscience that I have done all my Duty in the thing; let it lie at your Door if the Humour break off; for my part I cannot imagine how you will be able to answer it to all the World, if you shou'd, for want of discovering your self, lose the most constant and most faithful Lover under the Sun.
LETTER III.
To the same.
Constancy and Fidelity are, without doubt, great Vertues, though not always great Charms in a Mistress; but as to your Invisibility, it is a Quality that does not please me at all. I grant you, Madam, it is a pretty aëreal sort of Beauty, and may do very well for spiritual Lovers; but for me, Madam, who am a little embarass'd [Page 7] with matter, and who generally carry a Body of six foot long about with me, it wou'd be convenient to have some more corporeal Accomplishments. Descend, Madam, in this case, to your Lover's Capacity, and make use of his Senses to represent you as charming as without doubt you are, to his Imagination. For though I must confess Fancy has been very kind to you in this point, yet it wou'd be convenient to call in the Help of the Eyes to strengthen the Evidence: I expect therefore from your next Letter, an appointment where I may meet you in a visible manner. These are the only Terms upon which I can treat any farther with you; for tho' you write the most agreeably in the World, yet you must certainly own, that after having been monstrously in love for a whole Week together, it is very reasonable that a Man shou'd know at last with whom it is.
LETTER IV.
To the same.
YEs really, Madam, I think you are in the right of it; Hanging and Drowning are such vulgar ways of Dying, that for my part I wou'd rather live a thousand Years, than make use of either. Then, Madam, they are the most inconvenient Methods in the World; Drowning will spoil your Clothes, and Hanging your Complexion; besides several other things that might be said to dissuade you from it, but that I know a word to the Wise is enough. I am of Opinion you had better deferr all sort of dying 'till another Opportunity; though if you are positive in it, I wou'd rather recommend Mr. Boyle's Air-Pump as a newer Invention; or being poisoned [Page 9] in Perfumes, as somewhat that looks pleasant enough. But to be less serious, Madam, make no doubt of your own Perfections, and reckon that in having me, you have the most reasonable Lover, of an unreasonable Lover, in the World. I confess were I to form a Beauty to my self, she shou'd be—let me consider a little upon it; she shou'd be—I protest, Madam, I know not what she shou'd be: monstrously in love with me, that is certain; for the rest, I shou'd trust the Stars, I think I may say, without Flattery, I love my self so well, that I can love any body else that does so too; and shou'd preferr that single Beauty, of an immoderate Passion for me in a Mistress, to all the other Charms in the World, as Bayes does the single beating of Armies in his Hero, to all the Moral Vertues put together. If you can answer for this Charm, Madam, take no care [Page 10] for any other; he must be unreasonable indeed, who is not satisfied with that, in a Lady of Sixteen.
LETTER V.
To the fair Unbeliever.
ST. Ierome says, (St. Ierome I must confess is a very odd beginning of a Billet doux) That a Man who can with patience suffer himself to be call'd Heretick, ought not to be esteem'd a good Christian: And in common Account you see, one who is called Coward, if he does not resent the Affront, shall always be thought such. As my Provocations are much greater than either of these, so if my Indignation were answerable to 'em, you cou'd not expect to be forgiven by me, even in the Article of Death: For after all People can say of Hereticks [Page 11] and Cowards, they will allow 'em to be Men; but by your Reflections upon me, you wou'd degrade me from that Rank, without allowing me any place among the inferiour Creatures. Had you call'd me Brute, or Beast, I had not been so zealous in my own Iustification: Daily Experience convinces us, That Men who have no more Understanding than Horses, or Mules, provided they have all the other Qualifications of those Noble Animals, may be acceptable enough to some or other of the fair Sex; but want of Virility is an Imputation that will cut a Man off from all sort of Communication with 'em. Had the Husbands or Old Women had this Opinion of me, I shou'd not have been so violent in my own Defence. Scandals, as well as Oaths, ought to be taken in the sense of those that impose 'em; I shou'd not be angry at a Turk, or [Page 12] a Iew, for thinking me of their Religion; because whatever I thought it was what made them like me the better; but this wou'd be no Reason to make me forgive a Christian for calling me so. In like manner, Madam, though I cou'd have pardon'd the Husbands and Old Women for saying such a thing of me, yet I can very hardly pardon you for it. It were in vain to call Witnesses in this case, or turn you over to another hand for Satisfaction in that point, which can only properly be resolv'd by my self; and it were as vain to think to clear my self by Words from an Imputation that ought to be done by Actions; I shall therefore only challenge you to meet me at your own place and time; where I doubt not to give you full Satisfaction in this point, and convince you that I am not the Man (or rather indeed the No Man) that you take me [Page 13] to be. In the mean time I shall remain your most Humble, (a Curse on that Humble) but I mean,
LETTER VI.
I Have been waiting these three Months to tell you a thing that may be said in three Words; it is, I love you. I will grant you, Madam, that this is no necessary Reason why you shou'd love me again; but you must grant me in recompence, That it is a very sufficient Reason why I shou'd tell you of it. I do not expect you shou'd write me a Letter in return to this, and therefore venture it without a Name: It is from your Eyes [Page 14] alone, I shall attend my Answer. But, Madam, that we may not mistake one another in this point, and that I may not take for an Encouragement of my Passion, what you intend for a Discouragement of it; I must tell you, That if you do not look upon me after this, I shall believe you are in love, and that makes you bashful: If you look angrily, I shall think it is to give me occasion to come and justifie my self; and if you look negligently, I shall conclude 'tis management to disguise the Amour from the World: In fine, Madam, I shall take nothing for a Refusal of my Heart, but looking very kindly upon me. But that you may not be mistaken in the Person who sends this, and imagine it to come from some Lord with a blue Garter, or white Staff, that comes from a Commoner without either. I will describe my self so, as you may know me well enough [Page 15] to encourage my Passion if you like it, but not so as to make a Trophie of me, if you do not. My Stature is somewhat above the ordinary; my Body neither very big, nor very small; my Hair light; my Eyes dark; and Love has not as yet made me either very lean, or very pale: My Humour is the most commodious for a Lover in the World, not so much enclin'd to Hanging or Drowning, perhaps, as some others; but for Passion and Constancy, no Man goes beyond me. If you will accept of a Heart with all these Qualifications, I offer you mine; if not, send it me back by the Penny-Post, if you know me by any other Title than that of
LETTER VII.
To the same.
I Grant you, Madam, there are others who will love you as much as I; but are there any who will love you as little? Yes, Madam, I under stand very well what I say, Will they love you as little? for that is the only difficulty you have to apprehend. There is no question but a Man who is possess'd of the most charming-Creature in the Universe, will be constant to her as long as she pleases; but it is a great Question if he will part with her as soon as she pleases. This is the Rock upon which those Ladies split, who will admit of none but constant Lovers; not considering that the Women are as changeable as the Men can be for the Lives of them [Page 17] and consider, pray, into what pretty Circumstances a Lady brings herself, who is plagu'd with an obstinate old Lover, when she is passionately in love with a new one. I know not what those Crimes are the Lady you tell me lays to my Charge, but I fansie an importunate Perseverance in Love of the same Woman, is not one of the number: And whenever you please to make the Experiment, as the least sign in the World is sufficient after these Preliminaries, to make me a most passionate Lover; so the least sign you give me afterwards of any new Amour, shall make me lay aside that Title, for the less-ambitious one of
LETTER VIII.
To a Lady who had spoken against him.
THere may have been other Men, perhaps, besides my self, who have fallen in love with a Woman they did not know; but for a Man to do it for no other reason than her declaring against him, is, I believe, an Honour that has been reserv'd for your humble Servant. They tell me, Madam, you are so far from liking me your self, that you will not believe any Body else can: That you find nothing agreeable in my Person, from the Crown of my Head, to the Soal of my Foot: That for my Wit, (for every body, Madam, carries somewhat about them which they call Wit) it is all Affectation: That I am an Abstract of Vanity: That I am so much in love [Page 19] with my self, that it is impossible for me to be so with any Body else. These things, Madam, that might have put some People into Anger, have put me into Love: For as those who are naturally peevish, will be angry at People, let them endeavour never so much to please 'em; so we who are naturally amorous, cannot avoid being in love with a Lady, let her take never so much pains to anger us. And indeed, Madam, did People ground their Passions upon Reason, you have given me one of the most reasonable Causes to love you in the World: For as there is no Man of Wit but knows himself to be a Fool, so he ought to have an Opinion of their Iudgments, who find it out as well as himself. It is reported as an Instance of the Bravery of the Amazons, That they wou'd never marry a Man, 'till they had fought with him first; and if he beat 'em very much, he [Page 20] might expect to be loved very much by them. Now I, Madam, who profess as great a Veneration for Wit, as the Amazons had for Courage, cannot have so good a Reason for Love, as your having exercis'd your Wit upon me: Tho' it is possible you may attribute my Passion to another Cause, and as you think I love nothing beside my self, may have some kindness for you, because you are never like to be my Rival; however, assure your self, Madam, it is no such thing, but knowing the worst you can say of me to be true, and having a natural Affection for Truth, Wit, and Women, (you will think a Man a very general Lover, that can love Truth, Wit, and Women, at the same time) I must needs be infinitely in love with you, in whom I find 'em altogether. Be not however deluded into a better Opinion of me, by what any body can say; for as it is only your hating me that makes [Page 21] me love you, as soon as that ceases, I am afraid my Love will do so too. As you therefore value my Kindness, take heed of having any for me; and satisfie your self, That as long as you continue to think me a silly, idle, conceited Fop, I shall continue to be, with all the Passion imaginable,
LETTER IX.
To a Masqu'd Lady.
THo' I doubt not, Madam, but you have made the most considerable Conquests under the Sun, yet give me leave to say, You never made any so extraordinary as this before: You have subdu'd, without [Page 22] the Conqueror's common Vanity, of making your self known, and have gain'd the most absolute Victory in the World, without as much as shea [...]hing your Face. I, who never knew a Woman cou'd overcome me, am now overcome by I know not who: And can both boast of the greatest Passion, and greatest Faith in Nature together: The seeing you, which is the reason of other People's Love, might, for ought I know, destroy mine; for I have rais'd Idea's of you, to which it is very difficult for any thing in Nature to arrive. I imagine you the most charming Creature in the Universe, and at the same time fansie you to be somewhat more than I imagine. I have dress'd you up in all the most different shapes of Natute. In whatever you appear, it has been always the most amiable: And after having supposed you Maid, Wife, and Widow by turns, I 'find I can love you infinitely, be you any [Page 23] one of them. Did I know in which state you were, I wou'd certainly make love to all of it, 'till I arriv'd at you; and for want of that, I am forc'd to confine my self to Womankind. I leave it to your own Conscience, Madam, whether you can leave the most constant Lover in Nature, in this Condition; tho' if it feel no remorse for the last Disappointment, I shall very hardly ever trust it more: Yet however extravagant my Passion is, do not apprehend that I shou'd make any malicious Reflections on you to the World; let my other Vertues be what they will, my Fidelity is unquestionable: And assure your self, there is no Man breathing less apt to tell a Secret that he does not know, than,
LETTER X.
To a Friend.
FOr Friend I can hardly call you, since under that disguise, you have done me one of the greatest injuries in the World; and it is vain for me to guard my Territories against the malicious Designs of Enemies and Rivals; when you, whom I never took for either, have more prejudiced me in an Amour, than they cou'd with all their Forces together. But that I may not condemn you without a Cause, nor conclude you guilty 'till I hear what you can say in your own Iustification, I will give you a plain account of the Business. Meeting one of the Ladies last Night, with whom I am in love, she began a [Page 25] discourse of Lovers, wherein she shew'd the many inconveniencies that attended the having a Man of Wit in that Capacity. I, who do not naturally love to dispute with a fair Lady, (especially in a Cause where I thought my self no more concern'd than if she had talk'd of Iews or Mahometans) agreed with her in all she said; when she turn'd briskly upon me, and told me, For that Reason a Woman must have a care of having any thing to do with me. I told her that was acting after the manner of some late Iudges; call a thing Treason without Law, and then hang a Man for it without Proof: That I appeal'd to all the World for my Innocence in the matter, and defied my greatest Enemies to bring any Evidence of my guilt. She told me she had it from such a one, who had it from another; and that, in fine, the original Author of this Calumny was your self. Now [Page 26] tho' I grant you that some People might have said such a thing as this, out of Inadvertency; yet I can hardly believe a Man of your Prudence to have done it upon that account. You who very well know, That to commend a Man for a Wit to the Women, is like commending him for a good Protestant to the Fathers of the Inquisition; and he that reported me an Eunuch among 'em, cou'd not do it upon a more malicious account. They love a tame, easie, governable Fool, and fansie all Wits ill-natur'd and proud: Have not you often told me so? and after that to put me upon 'em for one! Well, Sir, I am a Gentleman; nor shall I pass by such a thing as this, without satisfaction. I expect therefore you shou'd either give it me under your Hand, That you never said any such thing of me; or if you really said it, That you shou'd go immediately to the Person to whom [Page 27] you did it; and assure 'em you were misinform'd in the thing, and that to your knowledge Ireland it self never bred a more tame, easie fool than I am: for here lies the greatest danger; I have gotten a Rival of that Country, and you know how difficult it is to succeed in a Contest with one of them, when want of Wit to give is the preference. After all, methinks if you wou'd be hearty in the thing, you may bring me out of these Difficulties: I know you have Wit enough to convince 'em that I have none; and if the worst come to the worst, it is but carrying you to 'em, to shew the difference. In that hopes, I resume the Title of
LETTER XI.
To a Lady in the Country, who was going to be married.
AFter having written you a Letter upon your first going down, I have never dar'd to venture one since, lest I shou'd be mistaken in my Address; and for ought I know, to write to you now by the Title of Mrs—, may be as uncivil as to treat the King with the Title of Prince of Orange. However, Madam, blame not me for it, since we are here in perfect ignorance of the matter. We had very positive news one while of your being married; and as positive after, that it was not yet done; which some here took, I can assure you, for a great Act of Mercy. Half a dozen Sparks of your Acquaintance [Page 29] have provided themselves either with Love-Songs, or Epithalamiums, to send you, as occasion shall require, without being yet able to know which wou'd be most proper: And here are half a dozen more, who have had Halters about their Necks, ever since the Report of your going to be married; for they are resolv'd to be ready upon the first notice, That the same Post which brings the news of your Wedding, may carry back that of their Deaths. 'Tis true, Madam, I took the boldness to advise 'em not to be over-hasty in the Affair, since they might do it afterwards at their own Convenience; and Experiments of this nature were difficult enough to correct, when they were once ill done. But all I could say was in vain; they are positive in the matter, and half a dozen of the handsomest Trees in the Park, are mark'd out for the Execution. I must confess, I endeavour'd [Page 30] to divert 'em as much as I cou'd from chusing that place, for the Benefit of the Company that walks there; I told 'em it was contrary to all precedent, to make use of Elms, or Lime-Trees, since the Willow had time out of mind been reserv'd for that use; and that a Lover who did not hang himself according to form, had as good never hang himself at all. They answer'd me very surlily, (though very truly too I must own) That it was not my Business: That it was a very hard case People might not hang themselves without asking my leave; and as they wou'd not hinder me whenever I was going about such a thing, so they took it very ill that I shou'd pretend to hinder them. I must confess, Madam, I cou'd say very little in the case; and you may believe I had no great mind to enter upon a Quarrel with People in [Page 31] their Circumstances; but I thought the acquainting you with it, was a Duty that became
LETTER XII.
To a Lady that ask'd him for his Heart.
THo' to tell a Man that you will dispose of his Heart to one who shall use it ill, is but a very small Encouragement for him to part with it; yet since you say you have a particular fancy for mine, I cannot refuse you such a trifle as that, upon whatever terms you demand it. I have enclosed it therefore in this Letter, and trusted it to the Penny-Post, lest your Generosity shou'd have made you give a Messenger more for the bringing it, than the thing it self is really [Page 32] worth. I wish, Madam, it were better for your sake; and can assure you, That were it the most mo [...]ish one in the World, it shou'd be at your Service. As it is, Madam, I am afraid you will think it very old fashion'd, and too much given to those antiquated Qualities, Constancy and Fidelity. It is probable the Lady for whom you intend it, may despise those Things, and think a Heart of that sort as ridiculous as a Lover in a short Cloak, slash Sleeves, pinck'd Doublet, and trunk Hose. But let her not be prejudic'd against things for their first appearances; I have seen a very awkward Beginner, come to Dance very well at last; and it is not impossible but by good management the Heart may be brought quite off those disagreeable Qualities. You may please to tell her, That it having been bred up very tenderly 'till now, it wou'd be convenient to treat [Page 33] it a little kindlier than ordinary at first, lest it shou'd be apt to run away: She shou'd encourage his Sighs now and then with a kind Whisper; and when she sees the Fire grow a little faint, let her give but one or two kind Looks, and it will blaze out afresh. Having been troubled with an extraordinary Fever, since it was in the presence of a certain Lady, it ought not to be exposed to the open Air, for fear of catching cold; she may conveniently enough confine it to her Bed-chamber, where it may be of great use rightly manag'd, and wake her in a morning with half a dozen deep-fetch'd Sighs, better than any Larum-Clock. You see, Madam, what Confidence I have in your Conduct, since I trust you to dispose of a Heart for me, that I have never been able to dispose of my self. You will think, perhaps, it is but making a Vertue of Necessity, and surrendring [Page 34] up a Fort which I am not able to hold out against you. However, Madam, the fiercest Conquerors are kind to Garrisons that yield upon the first Summons; and as I know your Power to be greater than any of theirs; so I doubt not but your Vertues are answerable to 'em. All the favour I shall beg for my Heart, is, That it may be treated as a Prisoner of War, and that I may have the liberty of keeping a Correspondence with it, during its Confinement. To show you I intend nothing but what is fair, I am satisfied you shou'd read all the Letters I write; and that none shou'd come to me, but by your Approbation. And indeed you need not fear this making any escape; for if I can guess at all at his Humour, he will preferr such a Captivity to all the Liberty in the World; and will not be so proud of the Titles of Prince, or Conqueror, as that of your Prisoner & Slave.
LETTER XIII.
To the same.
I Have been these six Hours in debate, Whether I shou'd stab my self, or write to you first? At last, Madam, I have determin'd on the latter: For I consider that if you shou'd hear a Fellow mounted upon a Cricket, singing some doleful Ballad of my Death, you wou'd be at a loss to know the cause of so sad an Accident; and, in an Age so inquisitive as ours, wou'd take it much better to have a relation of the thing [Page 36] from the first hand, than be put to the trouble of stopping to enquire of it in the Street, or trusting to the Fidelity of a Grub-street Historian. The Business then in short, Madam, is this: Coming home about Twelve a Clock last Night, I found a Letter, to tell me, That I shou'd meet you in—at Five a Clock in the Afternoon. Now, Madam, I am really so sensible of my guilt of disappointing you in this manner, that after having arraign'd, judg'd, and condemn'd my self for it, I am just now upon the point of Execution. I must confess, some People have advis'd me to the contrary, and tell me you cannot take it ill that I did not meet you, when you know how late it was before I receiv'd the Letter. But I told them, That after having written to you, I ought never to have stirr'd from home, but staid in expectation of an answer. For tho' it was urg'd in my Defence, That I had some great [Page 37] Business which call'd me out; and that I had little hopes you shou'd have granted me the Honour of meeting you so soon; yet this Excuse does not satisfie me in the least: For why a Devil shou'd a Man pretend to make Love, when he has great Business, and little Hope? This Consideration has absolutely determin'd me for a sudden Execution; and whatever you may think upon the first sight of this Letter, yet before you can have read it out, you may assure your self I shall be no more
I have a thing just now come into my Head, that may possibly make me deferr my Execution, till I hear farther from you. Different People having different Tastes; and there being as many ways of killing Lovers, as there [Page 38] are of dressing Eggs, it wou'd anger me very much if I shou'd stab my self for your sake, when you wou'd rather have me hang'd or drown'd.
LETTER XIV.
To the same.
IT is well, Madam, you prepared me for a Disappointment in your Letter, otherwise, I confess, I am very impatient under those Circumstances. I hope it was not in revenge for my missing the other Assignation; if it be, reckon we are upon the square now. You will certainly grant, you have all the reason in the World to make me amends for this; and it is with a great deal of impatience I expect a more favourable Opportunity. In recompence, you shall dispose of me, in whatever manner [Page 39] you please; and I am sure you must allow, That if I am not the most passionate Lover in the World, I am at least the most convenient: For whenever you have a mind to give Sir—, or Mr.— opportunities of saying soft things, you shall see that I manage the other Party to your advantage, as naturally as can be. Then, Madam, if after this, you have any occasion to make 'em jealous again, there is no Man in the World fitter for such an Employment than my self. You may make use of me, Madam, in any of these Capacities, (but still make use of me) and you will not only oblige your self, but
LETTER XV.
To the same.
CErtainly the Lady who accus'd me of Indifference last night, has the least reason in the World to do so. Is it indifference to be always following her up-and-down? Is it indifference to shun all Company for hers? Is it indifference to gaze upon her with all the tenderness in Nature? These are but the outward Signs; but, oh! cou'd she look within, and accuse of Indifference a Heart that burns with the most violent Passion that ever was! It is true, Madam, the rest of the World may, with justice enough, tax me with it: For as there is but one Person living, who can make me otherwise; so Prudence obliges me to manage things so, as to [Page 41] disguise my Passion from all the World beside. And is there no return due to this, but a Resolution to deceive me? Well, Madam; it is some comfort to me however, That if you can but for one half hour delude me into an Opinion that I am belov'd by you, that short Cheat will be a greater Satisfaction, than all Womankind can grant me beside.
LETTER XVI.
To the same.
I See I am destin'd to destruction! Why, O Heaven! did I ever see her? Or since I did, why did any Body else? Had I never, I cou'd never have been happy; and by having seen you, I am the most miserable Wretch breathing. These will appear Mysteries, perhaps, to you; and if [Page 42] you think me distracted when I writ this, you will think right: Love, Rage, Iealousie, and Despair, are tearing my Soul in pieces. If you have any Compassion for a Man whom you have rendred the most miserable in the World, give me an Opportunity of meeting you to day, though it be but for one half hour. I wou'd not have you come to the Walks after this Rain, for fear you shou'd catch cold; and a meeting at Shops or Indian Houses, may make People suspicious. Though I die if I see you not, yet I wou'd rather do so, than bring your Health or Reputation in any danger. Think, oh think upon some way of satisfying my Request; and do not apprehend that this Distraction which I show you, shou'd appear to any body else, to your prejudice. I wish every one were as careful of you as I am; yet I lye, I do not wish it; for to be so, they must love you [Page 43] at the same rate; and I had rather allow 'em all the Favours you can grant, than that. Adieu—I am—alas I know not what I am, but that I am miserable, and that I am
LETTER XVII.
To the same.
I Think I have taken all the ways imaginable to convince you that I love you above the World; however, Madam, you shall see I will yet do more, which is, never to see you again. It is true, Mrs.—told me, I might come to you to day; but she told me at the same time, That you thought it improper for me to come so often. Had you any kindness for me, you cou'd not have [Page 44] refus'd my Visits upon so cold a Reason as their being improper; and if you have not, you cannot be pleas'd that I make 'em at all. You shall see therefore, Madam, how much I value your Quiet above my own, since I engage my Word to you (and I am sure, Madam, neither you, nor any Woman in the World, can say I have ever broken my Word with 'em) that I will never make you another Visit, or come into any place where you are, except you give me very good assurance that my Company will be more acceptable to you, than I have reason to believe it has been of late.
LETTER XVIII.
To the same.
THat this parting has not been sought of my side, Heaven can be my Witness; and how little satisfaction I take in it, every Vein in my Heart can testifie. No; I tremble, I am all confusion, and I die when I think upon it; and it is only in complaisance to you, that I have resolv'd it. I see you are picking little Occasions of quarrelling with me; I see you are uneasie when I am with you, and I see you do not make a return that is suitable to a Passion so violent and so sincere as mine is. Heavens! Madam, what wou'd you have me do? Shou'd I come to put you out of Humour? Or wou'd you have me appear as a Spectacle of your Rigour to [Page 46] your more-favour'd Servants. No, Madam, I had too much tenderness for you, to give you any disturbance; and give me leave to say, I have not so mean a Spirit as to follow any Woman, when I have reason to believe she thinks me troublesome, how difficult soever it may be to quit her.
Since you command it, I shall not fail of waiting upon you once more, before we part for ever.
On the Author of a Dialogue concerning Women, pretended to be writ in defence of the Sex.
LETTER XIX.
To a Lady who sent him the foregoing Verses into the Countrey.
I Receiv'd a Copy of Verses from you last Post, with a Command (for the Requests of fair Ladies are always Commands to me) that I shou'd answer 'em. I wou'd serve you, Madam, you may be sure, in any thing that was in my Power, but this I must own is quite beyond it; and after having read them over, I found my self utterly unable to cope with so dead-doing an Author: I sent therefore immediately to the Clerk of the Parish (a very honest Man, a good Weaver, and no ill Critick I can assure you, as Criticks go) to beg the favour of him, that he wou'd come and assist me in the thing. With his [Page 52] help, Madam, I read 'em over again: We both agreed, That there were never Words better chosen, Verse more delicately turn'd, Satyr more fine, or Raptures more poetical. As for example:
The Clerk indeed made some Exceptions to the Lines that follow:
He said he cou'd not imagine that so wise a Person as the Author of those Verses, cou'd be misled in any thing.
(An Apostrophé to the Ladies:)
O God, Madam, by a Rush-light as plain as can be,
If it were not too great a trouble to the Author, I wou'd desire to know of him who it is that does sway the Weapon; for sometimes he makes us believe it is the Prefacer, and sometimes the pretended Author:
This last was so very good a Conceit, and so very new, that I thought the Clerk wou'd have died with laughing [Page 54] at it. Well, said he, (when he had a little recover'd himself) that Eatfinger is so ingenious, that a Man might have made five or six very good Verses of that one Thought. Set your Heart at rest, said I, and see if this Author has not as much Management as he has Wit.
I warrant this Poet never sat silent in his Life,
That is to say, Either he eats his Fingers, or fills his Mouth with his Fist, or crams his Hand into his Iaws. Never were there Fancies more sublime, or more variety of 'em put together.
Observe here, Madam, if you please, a new Argument for Rhime, and that is the Civility and Good-breeding which proceed from it. Had it not been for the Rhyme's sake, those who were Fops and Fools in the beginning of the Poem, had little reason to expect to be adopted Men of Worth in the latter part of it.
This we both allow'd to be the very best Iest of all. It is true, indeed, the Clerk (who is a very good natur'd Man, tho' perhaps a little too curious in his Criticisms) said, He cou'd not find any very great resemblance between a Man who sat silent, and a Quaker that was holding forth. But I told him, He must suppose it was a [Page 56] Quaker holding forth at a silent Meetting.
The Clerk told me, He doubted the Author was mistaken here: For as the Story has been always written, Endymion did not make love to the Moon, but the Moon to Endymion. And as for the Barking, he assur'd me he had it from an ancient Greek Manuscript, whose Author was intimately acquainred with Endymion; and protests, That he never saw a Man less apt to bark at People in his Life than he was. But if all the little Currs of the Town have always bark'd at the Moon, it is very hard that Endymion, who was never known to bark at any body, must be supposed the Author of all that Noise. [Page 57] But pray, Madam, inform your self a little better from the Author, of what follows: Was there ever any Mouse? or was there any Fable wherein there was a Mouse?
For if the thing be really true, it was the most impudent Mouse that ever I heard of; and we must, both the Clerk and I, agree with the Author, in the just resentment he shews for so horrible a Presumption.
But to be a little more serious, Madam: Tho' I can allow a Iest as far as any body, yet I wou'd not have People imagine I shall bear such things as these. You may advise the Author therefore, for his own sake, to keep his Name conceal'd. How great soever his Quality may be (for if I can guess at all at him, he's a Person of considerable Quality) let him not imagine [Page 58] that shall protect him from my Revenge. Had the Great Mogul written such a Copy of Verses against me (not that I have any particular Pique to the Great Mogul) without any respect at all to his Quality, I wou'd have printed the Verses, and put his Name to 'em. However, Madam, in the midst of my Fury, he shall see how much more like a Christian I treat him, than he has done me: For tho' he has maliciously insinuated, That Mr. Dryden writes for me, and that I am covetous of M. L. D.'s Company, yet I must do him the justice to declare, I do not in the least believe Mr. Dryden has any hand in his Works, or that he ever found any great Satisfaction in the Conversation of M. L. D. I am,
The Clerk presents his Service to the Author, and has written the Enclosed, which he desires may be delivered to him.
LETTER XX.
To the most Noble Author of that incomparable Poem, on the Author of a Dialogue concerning Women, &c.
YOu cannot imagine with what unexpressible satisfaction I read over your late Poem. It pleases me extreamly to see, that notwithstanding the Endeavours of our Enemies, the Wits, there are still some generous Spirits who tread in the Steps of our Predecessors, and imitate those hidden Graces that lie undiscover'd in the Works of Mr. Thomas Sternhold, and Mr. Robert Wisdom of Blessed Memory. I have seen several modern Lampoons that have gone some steps towards it; but I may say without flattery, I have seen no Man who has gone so far in [Page 60] it as your self. And whereas most of the Pieces now in vogue are dull, flat things, taken from the Ancients; Yours is brisk, sharp, and all your own: Envy it self cannot say you have stoln one good thing from any body; and truly I think it will be very difficult for any Man to steal one from you. There is a Saying of Virgil's concerning Homer, (for I wou'd scorn to compare such a Poet as you to any thing less than Homer) That it was casier to take the Club from Hercules, than a Verse from him. What was, perhaps, but a Compliment when said of Homer's Verses, may, with a great deal of Iustice, be affirmed of your Iests. I do no less approve your Generosity in undertaking the Moon's Cause, than your Address in the management of it: I fansie, if your Modesty wou'd give you leave to own it, you are deeper in her Favour than ever Endymion was: [Page 61] At least all the World must own she has a very great influence upon you; and I fansie your Fit of Poetry comes upon you, when she is at the full. No more at present, but that with all due Respects to her and the Mouse presented, I remain
LETTER XXI.
To a Friend.
Written from the Country.
THe Dialogues of Plato, with your last Letter, have quite turn'd my Head. What delicacy of Invention! What sublimity of Thought! I talk no more of Women, of Gallantry; I think of nothing but Philosophy [Page 62] and Seraphick Love. Oh Vanity of Pomp, of Glory, of Trifles, falsly called Pleasures! They appear beautiful to the sight, but once tasted, they leave nothing but Shame, Sorrow, and Repentance. Let us give others leave to play the Fool, while we enjoy the sweetness of Philosophy. O charming Quiet! Oh dear Repose! Oh Life truly celestial! Mounted upon the lofty tops of Philosophy, we regard at our ease the Vanity, the Folly, the Madness of the World: The greatest Cities appear nothing but great Herds of Madmen; so many Men, so many Follies.
[Page 63] The Soul of Man, according to Plato, has two Wings; the one coelestial, with which she flies up to the Empyreal Heaven; the other terrestrial, which pulls her down to the Earth again. It is the first of these that raises you to those lofty divine Paths, reach'd by none but the greatest Wits, the noblest Souls; The other brings Men down to the things of this World; to Vanity, to Sin, to Marriage! Poor Husbands! you have truly observ'd how soon Beauty flies away; but, alas! Love flies away much sooner: Uncomplaisant Companion that he is, who tho' he comes with Beauty, will not stay with it. Great Politicians without doubt these Husbands! who suffer an eternal slavery for a thing of so little duration. But what signifies that to us? Let us leave 'em in peace (if there be any such thing as Peace in Marriage) and love me as I love you.
LETTER XXII.
To the same.
From London.
IT is so long since I wrote to you, that I am almost asham'd of doing it now: But, to say the truth, I have too just an Excuse for my neglect, being relaps'd into my former malady, and notwithstanding all the Assistance of Philosophy, fallen in love ten times more than ever. I am asham'd to tell you how long I have been so; but I am ten times more asham'd to tell you, I do not yet find the least decay in my Passion, tho' I have reason enough to believe the Lady did not care tho' she saw me hanging up at her Gate. Well; we may put as good a face upon the matter [Page 65] as we will; but first or last I see Constancy comes upon us all. In the humor I am at present, I had a good mind to forswear ever being in love again. And yet upon better thoughts, I think I had as good try it once more: For of three Amours I have had in my Life-time, (as for Amourettes, those are not worth mentioning) I valu'd the one Mistress after I left loving her; I loved another, after I left valuing her; I love and value the third, after having lost all hopes of her: So that methinks according to the course of my Passions, I ought to love and value the next, after having obtained her. However, from this time forward, upon what Follies soever you fall, be pleased for my sake to spare those of love; being very well satisfied, there is not one Folly of that kind (except Marriage) which I have not already committed. I have been, without raillery, in love with the Beauty [Page 66] of a Woman whom I have never seen; with the Wit of one whom I have never heard speak, nor seen any thing that she has written; and with the Heroick Vertues of a Woman, without knowing any one Action of her Life, that cou'd make me think she had any. Considering how very common these Qualities are, I suppose you will not ask me if I have ever been mistaken. I know not what you think in the Country; but, for my part, I am of Opinion a Man must resolve to abandon Women or Philosophy entirely, for they will never agree well together. After an absence of five or six Months from Town, I find the Ladies still the same; that is to say, still various. Those who were in love when I went from hence, are in love still; but they are in love with other Men. They are constant to Love, but inconstant to the Lovers: And in this point, to speak the truth [Page 67] among Friends, I think there is no great difference between the two Sexes. The Men complain of the Women's inconstancy, and the Women of the Men's; for my part being unwilling to disoblige either, I am very apt to agree with both. But Cupid will have it so; and what can weak Mortals do against so potent a God? Adieu; live pleasantly, that is, philosophically; and guard your Heart from the Pains of Love.
POEMS.