The unfortunate bride, or, The Blind lady a beauty a novel / by Mrs. A. Behn.

The unfortunate bride, or, The Blind lady a beauty a novel / by Mrs. A. Behn.

Table of contents

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Title page

TO Richard Norton, OF Southwick in Hantſhire, Eſquire.

Title page

THE Unfortunate Bride: OR, THE The Blind Lady a Beauty.

THE Unfortunate Bride: OR, THE The Blind Lady a Beauty.

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FRankwit and Wildvill were two young Gentlemen of very conſiderable Fortunes, both born in Staffordſhire, and during their minority, both educated together, by which opportunity they contracted a very inviolable Friendſhip, a Friendſhip which grew up with them; and though it was remarkably known to every body elſe, they knew it not themſelves; they never made profeſſion of it in words, but actions; ſo true a warmth their fires could boaſt, as needed not the effuſion of their breath to make it live. Wildvill was of the richeſt Family, but Frankwit of the nobleſt; Wildvil was admired for outward qualifications, as ſtrength, and manly proportions, Frankwit for a much ſofter beauty, for his inward endowments, pleaſing in his converſation, of [Page] a free, and moving air, humble in his behaviour, and if he had any pride, it was but juſt enough to ſhew that he did not affect humility, his mind bowed with a motion as unconſtrained as his body, nor did he force this virtue in the leaſt, but he allowed it only; ſo aimable he was, that every Virgin that had Eyes, knew too ſhe had a Heart, and knew as ſurely ſhe ſhould loſe it. His Cupid could not be reputed blind, he never ſhot for him, but he was ſure to wound. As every other Nymph admired him, ſo he was dear to all the Tuneful Siſters, the Muſes were fired with him as much as their own radiant God Apollo; not their loved Springs and Fountains were ſo grateful to their eyes as he, him they eſteemed their Helicon and Parnaſſus too; in ſhort, when ever he pleaſed, he could enjoy them all. Thus he enamour'd the whole Female Sex, but amongſt all the ſighing captives of his Eyes, Belvira only boaſted charms to move him, her parents lived near his, and even from their Childhood they felt mutual Love, as if their Eyes at their firſt meeting had ſtruck out ſuch glances as had kindled into am'rous flame. And now Belvira in her fourteenth year, (when the freſh ſpring of young virginity began to caſt more lively bloomings in her Cheeks, and ſofter longings in her Eyes) by her indulgent Father's care was ſent to London to a Friend, her Mother being lately dead: When, as if fortune ordered it ſo, Frankwit's Father took a journey to the other [Page] World, to let his Son the better enjoy the pleaſures and delights of this: the young Lover now with all imaginable haſte interred his Father, nor did he ſhed ſo many Tears for his loſs as might in the leaſt quench the Fires, which he received from his Belvira's Eyes, but (maſter of ſeventeen hundred pounds a year, which his Father left him) with all the Wings of Love he flys to London, and ſollicits Belvira with ſuch fervency, that it might be thought he meant Deaths Torch ſhould kindle Hymen's; and now as ſoon as he arrives at his Journeys end, he goes to pay a viſit to the fair Miſtreſs of his Soul, and aſſures her, that tho he was abſent from her, yet ſhe was ſtill with him; and that all the Road he Travell'd her beauteous Image danced before him, and like the raviſhed Prophet, he ſaw his Deity in every Buſh; in ſhort, he paid her conſtant viſits, the Sun ne're roſe, or ſet, but ſtill he ſaw it in her company, and every minute of the day he counted by his ſighs ſo inceſſantly he importuned her that ſhe could no longer hold out, and was pleaſed in the ſurrender of her heart, ſince it was he was Conqueror, and therefore felt a triumph in her yielding; their Flames now joyned, grew more and more, glowed in their Cheeks, and lightened in their glances; eager they looked, as there were pulſes beating in their Eyes; and all endearing, at laſt ſhe vowed, that Frankwit living ſhe would ne're be any other mans; thus they paſt on ſome time, while every [Page] day rowled over fair, Heaven ſhowed an aſpect all ſerene, and the Sun ſeemed to ſmile at what was done; he ſtill careſſed his charmer with an innocence becoming his ſincerity, he lived upon her tender breath, and basked in the bright luſtre of her Eyes, with pride, and ſecret joy.

He ſaw his Rivals languiſh for that bliſs, thoſe charms, thoſe rapturous and extatick tranſports which he engroſſed alone. But now ſome eighteen months (ſome ages in a lovers Kalendar) winged with delights, and fair Belvira now grown fit for riper joys, knows hardly how ſhe can deny her preſſing lover and herſelf to crown their vows, and joyn their hands as well as hearts. All this while the young Gallant waſh'd himſelf clean of that ſhining dirt, his Gold; he fancied little of Heaven dwelt in his yellow Angels, but let them fly away as it were on their own Golden wings, he only valued the ſmiling Babies in Belvira's Eyes. His generoſity was boundleſs as his Love, for no man ever truly loved that was not generous. He thought his Eſtate like his paſſion, was a ſort of a Pontick Ocean, it could never know an Ebb: but now he found it could be fathom'd, and that the Tide was turning, therefore he ſollicits with more impatience, the conſummation of their joy [...] that both might go like Martyrs from the [...]ames immediately to Heaven; and now at laſt it was agreed between them that they ſhould both be one, but not without ſome reluctancy on the female [Page] ſide, for 'tis the humour of our Sex, to deny moſt eagerly thoſe grants to Lovers, for which moſt tenderly we ſigh: ſo contradictory are we to our ſelves, as if the Deity had made us with a ſeeming reluctancy to his own deſigns, placing as much diſcords in our minds, as there is harmony in our faces. We are a ſort of aiery Clouds, whoſe Lightning flaſh out one way, and the Thunder another. Our words and thoughts can ne're agree. So, this young charming Lady thought her deſires could live in their own longings, like Miſers wealth-devouring Eyes; and e're ſhe conſented to her Lover, prepared him firſt with ſpeaking looks, and then with a fore-running ſigh, applyed to the dear charmer thus: Frankwit, I am afraid to venture the Matrimonal bondage, it may make you think your ſelf too much confined, in being only free to one. Ah! my dear Belvira, he replyed, that one, like Manna, has the taſte of all, why ſhould I be diſpleaſed to be confined to Paradice, when it was the curſe of our forefathers to be ſet at large, tho they had the whole World to roam in: You have, my Love, ubiquitary charms, and you are all in all, in every part. Ay but, reply'd Belviria, we are all like perfumes, and too continual ſmelling makes us ſeem to have loſt our Sweets, I [...]ll be judged by my Couſin Celeſia here, if it he not better to live ſtill in mutual love, without the laſt Enjoyment. (I had forgot to tell my Reader that Celeſia was an heireſs, the only child of a rich Turkey Merchant, who when he dyed left [Page] her fifty thouſand pound in Money, and ſome Eſtate in Land; but, poor creature, ſhe was blind to all theſe riches, having been born without the uſe of ſight, though in all other reſpects charming to a wonder.) Indeed, ſays Celeſia, (for ſhe ſaw clearly in her mind) I admire you ſhould ask my judgment in ſuch a caſe, where I have never had the leaſt experience; but I believe it is but a ſickly ſoul which cannot nouriſh its Off-ſpring of deſires without preying upon the body. Believe me, reply'd Frankwit, I bewail your want of ſight, and I could almoſt wiſh you my own eyes for a moment, to view your charming Couſin, where you would ſee ſuch Beauties as are too dazzling to be long beheld; and if too daringly you gazed, you would feel the misfortune of the loſs of ſight, much greater than the want on't; and you would acknowledge, that in too preſumptuouſly ſeeing, you would be blinder then, than now unhappily you are.

Ah! I muſt confeſs, reply'd Belvira, my poor dear Couſin is blind, for I fancy ſhe bears too great an eſteem for Frankwit, and only longs for ſight to look on him. Indeed, reply'd Celeſia, I would be glad to ſee Frankwit, for I fancy he's as dazzling as he but now deſcrib'd his Miſtreſs, and if I fancy I ſee him, ſure I do ſee him, for ſight is fancy, is it not? or do you feel my Couſin with your Eyes? This is indeed, a charming blindneſs, reply'd Frankwit, and the fancy of your ſight excels the certainty of ours; ſtrange! that there ſhould be ſuch glances even in [Page]blindneſs? You, fair Maid, require not Eyes to conquer, if your night has ſuch Stars, what Sunſhine would your day of ſight have, if ever you ſhould ſee? I fear thoſe Stars you talk of, ſaid Belvira, have ſome influence on you, and by the compaſs you ſail by now, I gueſs you are ſteering to my Couſin. She is indeed charming enough to have been another Off-ſpring of bright Venus, blind like her Brother Cupid. That Cupid, reply'd Celeſia, I am afraid has ſhot me, for methinks I would not have you marry Frankwit, but rather live as you do without the leaſt Enjoyment, for methinks if he were marry'd, he would be more out of my ſight than he already is. Ah! Madam, return'd Frankwit, love is no Camelion, it cannot feed on Air alone. No but, rejoyn'd Celeſia, you Lovers that are not blind like love itſelf, have am'rous looks to feed on. Ah! believe it, ſaid Belvira, 'tis better Frankwit, not to loſe Paradice by too much knowledge; Marriage-enjoyment does but wake you from your ſweet golden Dreams: Pleaſure is but a Dream, dear Frankwit, but a Dream, and to be waken'd. Ah! Deareſt, but unkind Belvira, anſwer'd Frankwit, ſure there's no waking from delight, in being lull [...]d on thoſe ſoft Breaſts of thine. Alas! (reply'd the Bride to be) it is that very lulling wakes you; Women enjoy'd, are like Romances read, or Raree-ſhows once ſeen, meer tricks of the ſlight of hand, which, when found out, you only wonder at your ſelves for wondering ſo before at them. 'Tis expectation [Page] endears the bleſſing; heaven would not be heaven, could we tell what 'tis. When the Plot's out you have done with the Play, and when the laſt Act's done, you ſee the Curtain drawn with great indifferency. O my Belvira, anſwered Frankwit, that expectation were indeed a Monſter which enjoyment could not ſatisfy; I ſhould take no pleaſure he rejoin'd, running from hill to hill, like Children chaſing that Sun which I could never catch. O thou ſhalt have it then, that Sun of Love, reply'd Belvira, fir'd by this complaint, and gently ruſh'd into his arms, (rejoyning,) ſo Phaebus ruſhes radiant, and unfullied into a gilded Cloud. Well then, my dear Belvira, anſwer'd Frankwit, be aſſured I ſhall be ever yours, as you are mine; fear not you ſhall never draw Bills of love upon me ſo faſt as I ſhall wait in readineſs to pay them; but now I talk of Bills, I muſt retire into Cambridgeſhire, where I have a ſmall concern as yet unmortgaged, I will return thence with a brace of thouſand pounds within a week at fartheſt, with which our Nuptials by their celebration ſhall be worthy of our love. And then, my Life, my Soul, we ſhall be joyn [...]d, never to part again. This tender expreſſion mov'd Belvira to ſhed ſome few tears, and poor Celeſia thought herſelf moſt unhappy that ſhe had not eyes to weep with too; but if ſhe had, ſuch was the greatneſs of her grief, that ſure ſhe would have ſoon grown blind with weeping. In ſhort, after a great many ſoft vows, and promiſes of an inviolable faith, they parted with a pompous ſort of pleaſing woe; their [Page] concern was of ſuch a mixture of joy and ſadneſs, as the weather ſeems, when it both rains and ſhines. And now the laſt, the very laſt of laſt adieu's was over, for the farewels of Lovers hardly ever end, and Frankwit (the time being Summer) reach'd Cambridge that night, about nine a clock; (ſtrange! that he ſhould have make ſuch haſte to fly from what ſo much he lov'd!) and now, tir'd with the fatigue of his Journey, he thought fit to refreſh himſelf by writing ſome few lines to his belov'd Belvira; for a little Verſe after the dull proſe company of his ſervant, was as great an eaſe to him, (from whom it flow'd as naturally and unartificially, as his love or his breath) as a pace or hand-gallop, after a hard, uncouth, and rugged trot. He therefore, finding his Pegaſus was no way tir'd with his land travel, takes a ſhort journey thro the air, and writes as follows.

My deareſt dear Belvira,

YOu knew my ſoul, you knew it yours before,

I told it all, and now can tell no more;

Your preſence never wants freſh charms to move,

But now more ſtrange, and unknown pow'r you prove,

For now your very abſence 'tis I love.

Something there is which ſtrikes my wandring view,

And ſtill before my eyes I fancy you.

[Page]Charming you ſeem, all charming, heavenly fair,

Bright as a Goddeſs does my love appear,

You ſeem, Belvira, what indeed you are.

Like the Angelick off-ſpring of the skies,

With beatifick glories in your eyes.

Sparkling with radiant luſtre all Divine,

Angels, and Gods! oh heavens! how bright they ſhine!

Are you Belvira? can I think you mine!

Beyond ev'n thought, I do thy beauties ſee,

Can ſuch a heaven of heavens be kept for me!

O be aſſur'd, I ſhall be ever true,

I muſt —

For if I would, I can't be falſe to you.

Oh! how I wiſh I might no longer ſtay,

Tho I reſolve I will no time delay,

One tedious week, and then I'll fleet away.

Tho love be blind, he ſhall conduct my road,

Wing'd with almighty love to your abode,

I'll fly, and grow immortal as a God.

Short is my ſtay, yet my impatience ſtrong,

Short tho it is, alas! I think it long.

I'll come, my life, new bleſſings to purſue,

Love then ſhall fly a flight, he never flew,

I'll ſtretch his balmy wings; I'm yours,—

Adieu. Frankwit.

This Letter Belvira receiv'd with unſpeakable joy, and laid it up ſafely in her boſom, laid it, where the dear Author of it lay before, [Page] and wonderfully pleas'd with his humour of writing in Verſe, reſolv'd not to be at all behind-hand with him, and ſo writ as follows.

My dear Charmer,

YOu knew before what power your love could boaſt,

But now your conſtant faith confirms me moſt.

Abſent ſincerity the beſt aſſures,

Love may do much, but faith much more allures,

For now your conſtancy has bound me yours.

I find, methinks, in Verſe ſome pleaſure too,

I cannot want a Muſe, who write to you.

Ah! ſoon return, return, my charming dear,

Heav'n knows how much we mourn your abſence here:

My poor Celeſia now would charm your ſoul,

Her eyes, once blind, do now divinely rowl.

An aged Matron has by charms unknown,

Given her clear ſight as perfect as thy own.

And yet, beyond her eyes, ſhe values thee,

'Tis for thy ſake alone ſhe's glad to ſee.

She begg'd me, pray remember her to you,

That is a task which now I gladly do.

Gladly, ſince ſo I only recommend

A dear relation, and a dearer friend,

Ne're ſhall my love — but here my note muſt end.

Your ever true Belvira.

[Page]When this Letter was written, it was ſtrait ſhown to Celeſia, who lookt upon any thing that belong'd to Frankwit with rejoycing glances; ſo eagerly ſhe perus'd it, that her tender eyes beginning to water, ſhe cry'd out, (fancying ſhe ſaw the words dance before her view) Ah! Couſin, Couſin, your Letter is running away, ſure it can't go itſelf to Frankwit? A great deal of other pleaſing innocent things ſhe ſaid, but ſtill her eyes flow'd more bright with luſtrous beams, as if they were to ſhine out; now all that glancing radiancy which had been ſo long kept ſecret, and as if, as ſoon as the cloud of blindneſs once was broke, nothing but lightnings were to flaſh for ever after. Thus in mutual diſcourſe they ſpent their hours, while Frankwit was now raviſhed with the receipt of this charming anſwer of Belvira's, and bleſt his own eyes which diſcovered to him the much welcome news of fair Celeſia's. Often he reads the Letter o're and o're, but there his fate lay hid, for 'twas that very fondneſs proved his ruin. He lodg'd at a Couſin's Houſe of his, and there, (it being a private family) lodged likewiſe a Blackamoor Lady, then a Widow; a whimſical Knight had taken a fancy to enjoy her; enjoy her did I ſay? enjoy the Devil in the fleſh at once? I know not how it was, but he would fain have been a bed with her, but ſhe not conſenting on unlawful terms, (but ſure all terms are with her unlawful) the Knight ſoon marry'd her, [Page] as if there were not hell enough in Matrimony, but he muſt wed the Devil too. The Knight a little after died, and left this Lady of his (whom I ſhall call Moorea) an Eſtate of ſix thouſand pounds per Ann. Now this Moorea obſerved the joyous Frankwit with an eager look, her Eyes ſeemed like Stars of the firſt magnitude glaring in the night; ſhe greatly importuned him to diſcover the occaſion of his tranſport, but he denying it, (as 'tis the humour of our Sex) made her the more inquiſitive; and being jealous that it was from a Miſtreſs, employ'd her Maid to ſteal it, and if ſhe found it ſuch to bring it her; accordingly it ſucceeded, for Frankwit having drank hard with ſome of the Gentlemen of that Shire, found himſelf indiſpoſed, and ſoon went to Bed, having put the Letter in his pocket: The Maid therefore to Moorea contrived that all the other Servants ſhould be out of the way, that ſhe might plauſibly officiate in the warming the bed of the indiſpoſed Lover, but likely, had it not been ſo, ſhe had warmed it by his intreaties in a more natural manner; he being in bed in an inner Room, ſhe ſlips out the Letter from his pocket, carries it to her Miſtreſs to read, and ſo reſtores it whence ſhe had it; in the morning the poor Lover wakened in a violent Fever, burning with a fire more hot than that of Love. In ſhort, he continued ſick a conſiderable while, all which time the Lady Moorea conſtantly viſited him, and he as unwillingly ſaw her (poor [Page] Gentleman) as he would have ſeen a Parſon; for as the latter would have perſwaded, ſo the former ſcared him to Repentance. In the mean while, during his ſickneſs, ſeveral Letters were ſent to him by his Dear Belvira, and Celeſia too, (then learning to write) had made a ſhift to give him a line or two in Poſtſcript with her Couſin, but all was intercepted by the jealouſy of the Black Moorea, black in her mind, and dark, as well as in her body. Frankwit too writ ſeveral Letters as he was able, complaining of her unkindneſs, thoſe likewiſe were all ſtopt by the ſame Blackmoor Devil. At laſt, it happened that Wildvill, (who I told my Reader was Frankwit's friend) came to London, his Father likewiſe dead, and now Maſter of a very plentiful fortune, he reſolves to marry, and paying a viſit to Belvira, enquires of her, concerning Frankwit, ſhe all in mourning for the loſs, told him his friend was dead. Ah! Wildvill, he is dead, ſaid ſhe, and died not mine, a Blackmoor Lady had bewitched him from me; I received a Letter lately which informed me all▪ there was no name ſubſcribed to it, but it intimated, that it was written at the requeſt of dying Frankwit. Oh! I am ſorry at my ſoul, ſaid Wildvill, for I loved him with the beſt, the deareſt friendſhip; no doubt then, rejoyned he, 'tis Witchcraft indeed that could make him falſe to you; what delight could he take in a Blackmoor Lady, tho ſhe had received him at once with a ſoul as open as [Page] her longing arms, and with her Petticoat put off her modeſty. Gods! How could he change a whole Field argent into downright Sables. 'Twas done, returned Celeſia, with no ſmall blot, I fancy to the Female Scutcheon. In ſhort, after ſome more diſcourſe, but very ſorrowful, Wildvill takes his leave, extreamly taken with the fair Belvira, more beauteous in her cloud of woe; he paid her afterwards frequent viſits, and found her wonder for the odd inconſtancy of Frankwit, greater than her ſorrow, ſince he dy'd ſo unworthy of her. Wildvill attack'd her with all the force of vig'rous love, and ſhe (as ſhe thought) fully convinc'd of Frankwit's death, urg'd by the fury and impatience of her new ardent Lover, ſoon ſurrender'd, and the day of their Nuptials now arriv'd, their hands were joyn'd. In the mean time Frankwit, (for he ſtill liv'd) knew nothing of the injury the baſe Moorea practic'd, knew not that 'twas thro her private order, that the fore-mention'd account of his falſhood and his death was ſent; but impatient to ſee his Dear Bolvira, tho yet extremely weak, rid poſt to London, and that very day arriv'd there, immediately after the Nuptials of his Miſtreſs and his Friend were celebrated. I was at this time in Cambridge, and having ſome ſmall acquaintance with this Blackamoor Lady, and ſitting in her Room that evening, after Frankwit's departure thence, in Moorea's abſence, ſaw inadvertently a bundle of Papers, [Page] which ſhe had gathered up, as I ſuppoſe, to burn, ſince now they grew but uſeleſs, ſhe having no further hopes of him; I fancy'd I knew the hand, and thence my curioſity only led me to ſee the name, and finding Belvira ſubſcrib'd, I began to gueſs there was ſome foul play in hand, Belvira being my particularly intimate acquaintance: I read one of them, and finding the contents, convey'd them all ſecretly out with me, as I thought, in point of juſtice I was bound, and ſent them to Belvira by that night's Poſt; ſo that they came to her hands ſoon after the minute of her Marriage, with an account how, and by what means I came to light on them. No doubt but they exceedingly ſurpriz'd her: but Oh! Much more ſhe grew amaz'd immediately after, to ſee the poor, and now unhappy Frankwit ▪ who privately had enquir'd for her below, being received as a ſtranger, who ſaid he had ſome urgent buſineſs with her in a back Chamber below ſtairs. What Tongue, what Pen can expreſs the mournful ſorrow of this Scene: At firſt they both ſtood dumb, and almoſt ſenſeleſs; ſhe took him for the Ghoſt of Frankwit; he looked ſo pale, new riſen from his ſickneſs, he (for he had heard at his entrance in the Houſe, that his Belvira marry'd Wildvil) ſtood in a maze, and like a Ghoſt indeed, wanted the power to ſpeak, till ſpoken to the firſt. At laſt, he draws his Sword, deſigning there to fall upon it in her preſence; ſhe then imagining it his [Page] Ghoſt too ſure, and come to kill her, ſhrieks out and ſwoons; he ran immediately to her, and catch'd her in his arms, and while he ſtrove to revive and bring her to herſelf, tho that he thought could never now be done, ſince ſhe was marry'd, Wildvill miſſing his Bride, and hearing the loud ſhriek, came running down, and entring the Room, ſees his Bride lye claſpt in Frankwit's arms, Ha! Traytor! He crys out, drawing his Sword with an impatient fury, have you kept that Strumpet all this while, curſt Frankwit, and now think fit to put your damn'd caſt Miſtreſs upon me; could not you forbear her neither ev'n on my wedding day? Abominable Wretch! Thus ſaying, he made awfull paſs at Frankwit, and run him thro the left arm, and quite thro the Body of the poor Belvira; that thruſt immediately made her ſtart, tho Frankwit's endeavours all before were uſeleſs. Strange! that her death reviv'd her! for ah! ſhe felt that now ſhe only liv'd to dye! ſtriving thro wild amazement to run from ſuch a Scene of horror, as her apprehenſions-ſhew'd her; down ſhe dropt, and Frankwit ſeeing her fall, (all friendſhip diſannull'd by ſuch a chain of injuries) draws, fights with, and ſtabs his own lov'd Wildvill. Ah! who can expreſs the horror and diſtraction of this fatal miſunderſtanding! the Houſe was alarm'd, and in came poor Celeſia, running in confuſion juſt as Frankwit was off'ring to kill himſelf, to dye with a falſe friend, and perjur'd Miſtreſs, [Page] for he ſuppos'd them ſuch. Poor Celeſia now bemoan'd her unhappineſs of ſight, and wiſh'd ſhe again were blind. Wildvill dy'd immediately, and Belvira only ſurviv'd him long enough to unfold all their moſt unhappy fate, deſiring Frankwit with her dying breath, if ever he lov'd her, (and now ſhe ſaid that ſhe deſerv'd his love, ſince ſhe had convinc'd him that ſhe was not falſe) to marry her poor dear Celeſia, and love her tenderly for her Belvira's ſake; leaving her, being her neareſt Relation, all her fortune, and he, much dearer than it all, to be added to her own; ſo joyning his and Celeſia's Hands, ſhe pour'd her laſt breath upon his Lips, and ſaid, Dear Frankwit, Frankwit, I dye yours. With tears and wondrous ſorrow he promis'd to obey her Will, and in ſome months after her interrment, he perform'd his promiſe.

FINIS.

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Mrs. Behn.

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THE Unfortunate Bride: OR, The Blind Lady a Beauty.

A NOVEL.

By Mrs. A. BEHN.

LONDON, Printed for S. B. and ſold by the Bookſellers of London and Weſtminſter. 1700.

TO Richard Norton, OF Southwick in Hantſhire, Eſquire.

[Page]

[Page]

Honour'd SIR,

EMinent Wit, Sir, no more than Eminent Beauty, can eſcape the Trouble and Preſumption of Addreſſes; and that which can ſtrike every body with Wonder, can never avoid the Praiſe which naturally flows from that Wonder: And Heaven is forc'd to hear the Addreſſes as well as Praiſes of the Poor as Rich, of the Ignorant as Learned, and takes, nay rewards, the officious, tho' perhaps impertinent Zeal of its least qualify'd Devotees. Wherefore, Sir, tho' your Merits meet with the Applauſe of the Learned and Witty, yet your Generoſity will judge favourably of the untaught Zeal of an humbler Admirer, ſince what I do your eminent Vertues compel. The Beautiful will [Page] permit the most deſpicable of their Admirers to love them, tho' they never intend to make him happy, as unworthy their Care, but they will not be angry at the fatal Effect of their own Eyes.

But what I want in my ſelf, Sir, to merit your Regard, I hope my Authoreſs will in ſome meaſure ſupply, ſo far at least to leſſen my Preſumption in prefixing your Name to a Poſthumous Piece of hers, whom all the Men of Wit, that were her Contemporaries, look'd on as the Wonder of her Sex; and in none of her Performances has ſhe ſhew'd ſo great a Maſtery as in her Novels, where Nature always prevails; and if they are not true, they are ſo like it, that they do the buſineſs every jot as well.

This I hope, Sir, will induce you to pardon my Preſumption in dedicating this Novel to you, and declaring my ſelf,

Sir,

Your moſt obedient and moſt humble Servant, S. BRISCOE.

*⁎*

Notes

*⁎*

Place this Epiſtle Dedicatory next after the Title of the Blind Lady.

§

[Page]

THE Unfortunate Bride: OR, The Blind Lady a Beauty.

A NOVEL·

By Mrs. A. BEHN.

LONDON: Printed for Samuel Briſcoe, in Charles-Street, Covent-Garden, 1698.

Information about this book

Title statement

The unfortunate bride, or, The Blind lady a beauty a novel / by Mrs. A. Behn.

Behn, Aphra, 1640-1689.

Edition statement

1700

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2007-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A69554

ID [STC]

Wing B1773

ID [STC]

ESTC R23165

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

17891359

ID [OCLC]

ocm 17891359

ID [VID]

39420

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A69554)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 39420)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1116:9)

Source

— The unfortunate bride, or, The Blind lady a beauty a novel / by Mrs. A. Behn., Behn, Aphra, 1640-1689..

Extent

[6], 18 p., [1] leaf of plates : port.

Printed for S.B. and sold by the booksellers of London and Westminster,. London :: 1700.. (Added t.p. on p. [5] : The unfortunate bride, or, the blind lady a beauty : a novel / by Mrs. A. Behn. - London : Printed for Sauel Briscoe ..., 1698.) (Page 8 misnumbered as 9. Numbers 14 and 15 are repeated in pagination.) (Imperfect: stained.) (Reproduction of original in the Huntington Library.)

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