Part 21

After I have told you this, you may guess at a great part of my Story; which, in short, is this: I would needs make a Voyage, as you did, to this fortunate Isle, and accompanyed with abundance of young Heirs, Cadets, Coxcombs, Wits, Blockheads, and Politicians, with a whole Cargo of Cullies all, nameless and numberless we Landed on the Inchanted Ground; the first I saw, and lik’d, was charming _Silvia_; you believe I thought her fair as Angels; young, as the Spring, and sweet as all the Flowers the blooming Fields produce; that when she blush’d, the Ruddy Morning open’d, the Rose-buds blew, and all the Pinks and Dazies spread; that when she sigh’d or breath’d, _Arabia’s_ Spices, driven by gentle Winds, perfum’d all around; that when she look’d on me, all Heaven was open’d in her Azure Eyes, from whence Love shot a thousand pointed Darts, and wounded me all over; that when she spoke, the Musick of the Spheres, all that was ravishing in Harmony, blest the Adoring Listener; that when she walk’d, _Venus_ in the Mirtle Grove when she advanced to meet her lov’d _Adonis_, assuming all the Grace young Loves cou’d give, had not so much of Majesty as _Silvia_: In fine, she did deserve, and I compared her to all the Fopperies, the Suns, the Stars, the Coral, and the Pearl, the Roses and Lillies, Angels Spheres, and Goddesses, fond Lovers dress their Idols in. For she was all, fancy and fine imagination could adorn her with, at least, the gazing Puppy thought so. ‘Twas such I saw and lov’d; but knowing I did Adore, I made my humble Court, and she, by all my trembling, sighings, pantings, the going and returning of my Blood, found all my Weakness and her own Power; and using all the Arts of her Sex, both to ingage and secure me, play’d all the Woman over: She wou’d be scornful and kind by turns, as she saw convenient, This to check my Presumption and too easy hope; That to preserve me from the brink of despair. Thus was I tost in the Blanket of Love, sometimes up, and sometimes down, as her Wit and Humour was in or out of tune, all which I watch’d, and waited like a Dog, that still the oftner kick’d wou’d fawn the more.

Oh, ‘tis an excellent Art this managing of a Coxcomb, the Serpent first taught it our Grandam _Eve_: and _Adam_ was the first kind Cully: E’re since they have kept their Empire over Men, and we have, e’re since, been Slaves. But I, the most submissive of the whole Creation, was long in gaining Grace; she used me as she meant to keep me, Fool enough for her Purpose. She saw me young enough to do her Service, handsom enough to do her Credit, and Fortune enough to please her Vanity and Interest: She therefore suffer’d me to Love, and Bow among the Crowd, and fill her Train. She gave me hope enough to secure me too, but gave me nothing else, till she saw me languish to that degree, she feared, to lose the Glory of my Services, by my death; only this Pleasure kept me alive, to see her treat all my Rivals with the greatest Rigour imaginable, and to me all sweetness, exposing their foibles; and having taken Notice of my Languishment, she suffered me Freedoms that wholly Ravish’d me, and gave me hopes I shou’d not be long a dying for all she cou’d give.

But, since I have a great deal to say of my Adventures in passing out of this _Island of Love_: I will be as brief as I can in what arrived to me on the Place; and tell you, That after Ten thousand Vows of eternal Love on both sides, I had the Joy, not only to be believ’d and lov’d, but to have her put herself into my Possession, far from all my Rivals: Where, for some time I lived with this charming Maid, in all the Raptures of Pleasure, Youth, Beauty, and Love could create. Eternally we loved, and lived together, no day nor night separated us, no Frowns interrupted our Smiles, no Clouds our Sun-shine; the Island was all perpetual Spring, still flowery and green, in Bowers, in Shades, by purling Springs and Fountains, we past our hours, unwearied and uninterrupted. I cannot express to you the happy Life I led, during this blessed Tranquility of Love, while _Silvia_ still was pleased and still was gay. We walked all day together in the Groves, and entertained ourselves with a thousand Stories of Love; we laught at the foolish World, who could not make their Felicity without Crowds and Noise: We pitied Kings in Courts in this Retirement, so well we liked our Solitude; till on a day, (blest be that joyful day, though then ’.was most accurst,) I say upon that day, I know not by what accident I was parted from my Charmer, and left her all alone, but in my absence, there incountred her a Woman extremely ugly, and who was however very nice and peevish, inconstant in her temper, and no one place could continue her: The finest things in the World were troublesom to her, and she was Shagreen at every thing; her Name is _Indifference_; she is a Person of very great Power in this Island, (though possibly you never incountred her there,) and those that follow her, depart from the _Isle of Love_ without any great pains. She brought _Silvia_ to the Lake of Disgust, whether, in persuing her (at my return,) I found her, ready to take Boat to have past quite away, and where there are but too many to transport those Passengers, who follow _Indifference_ over the Lake of _Disgust_. I saw this disagreeable Creature too, but she appeared too ugly for me to approach her, but forcing _Silvia_ back, I returned again to the Palace of _True Pleasure_, where some days after there arrived to me a Misfortune, of which, I believed I should never have seen an end. I found _Silvia_ inviron’d round with new Lovers, still adoring and pleasing her a thousand ways, and though none of ‘em were so rich, so young, or so handsom as I, she nevertheless failed not to treat ‘em with all the Smiles and Caresses ‘twas possible to imagin; when I complain’d of this, she would satisfy my fears with so many Vows and Imprecations, that I would believe her, and think myself unreasonable, but when she would be absent whole days, in a hundred places, she would find such probable Excuse, and lye with such a Grace, no mortal cou’d have accused her, so that all the whole Island took notice that I was a baffled Cuckold, before I could believe she would deceive me, so heartily she damn’d herself: Through all the Groves I was the pointed Coxcomb, laught at aloud, and knew not where the jest lay; but thought myself as secure in the Innocence of my deceiving fair one, as the first hour I Charmed her, and like a keeping Cully, lavish’d out my Fortune, my plenteous Fortune, to make her fine to Cuckold me. ‘Sdeath! how I scorn the Follies of my Dotage; and am resolv’d to persue Love for the future, in such a manner as it shall never cost me a Sigh: This shall be my method.

A Constancy in Love I’ll prise, And be to Beauty true: And doat on all the lovely Eyes, That are but fair and new. On _Cloris_ Charms to day I’ll feed, To morrow _Daphne_ move; For bright _Lucinda_ next I’ll bleed, And still be true to Love.

But Glory only and Renown My serious hours shall charm; My Nobler Minutes those shall Crown, My looser hours, my Flame. All the Fatigues of Love I’ll hate, And _Phillis’s_ new Charms That hopeless Fire shall dissipate, My Heart for _Cloe_ warms.

The easie Nymph I once enjoy’d Neglected now shall pass, Possession, that has Love destroy’d Shall make me pitiless. In vain she now attracts and mourns, Her moving Power is gone, Too late (when once enjoy’d,) she burns, And yeilding, is undone.

My Friend, the little charming Boy Conforms to my desires, And ‘tis but to augment my Joy He pains me with his Fires; All that’s in happy Love I’ll tast, And rifle all his store, And for one Joy, that will not last, He brings a thousand more.

Perhaps, my Friend, at this Account of my Humor you may smile, but with a reasonable consideration you will commend it, at least, though you are not so wise as to persue my Dictates. Yet I know you will be diverted with my Adventures; though there be no love in ‘em that can resemble ‘em to yours. Take then the History of my Heart, which I assure you, boasts itself of the Conquests it has made.

A thousand Martyrs I have made, All sacrific’d to my desire; A thousand Beauties have betray’d, That languish in resistless Fire. The untam’d Heart to hand I brought, And fixt the wild and wandring Thought.

I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vain But both, thô false, were well receiv’d. The Fair are pleas’d to give us pain, And what they wish is soon believ’d. And thô I talk’d of Wounds and Smart, Loves Pleasures only toucht my Heart.

Alone the Glory and the Spoil I always Laughing bore away; The Triumphs, without Pain or Toil, Without the Hell, the Heav’n of Joy. And while I thus at random rove Despise the Fools that whine for Love.

I was a great while, (like you,) before I forgot the remembrance of my first Languishments, and I almost thought (by an excess of Melancholy,) that the end of my Misfortunes were with my Life at hand: Yet still like a fond Slave, willing to drag my Fetters on, I hop’d she would find Arguments to convince me she was not false; and in that Humor, fear’d only I should not be handsomly and neatly jilted. Could she but have dissembled well, I had been still her Cully. Could she have play’d her Game with discretion, but, vain of her Conquest, she boasted it to all the World, and I alone was the kind keeping Blockhead, to whom ’.was unperceived, so well she swore me into belief of her Truth to me. Till one day, lying under a solitary Shade, with my sad Thoughts fixt on my declining Happiness, and almost drown’d in Tears, I saw a Woman drest in glorious Garments, all loose and flowing with the wind, scouring the Fields and Groves with such a pace, as _Venus_, when she heard her lov’d Youth was slain, hasted to behold her ruin. She past me, as I lay, with an unexpressible swiftness, and spoke as she run, with a loud Voice. At her first approach, I felt a strange trembling at my Heart without knowing the reason, and found at last this Woman was _Fame_. Yet I was not able to tell from whence proceeded my Inquietude. When her Words made me but too well understand the Cause: The fatal Subject of what she cry’d, in passing by me, were these:

Poor _Lycidus_, for shame arise, And wipe _Loves_ Errors from thy Eyes; Shake off the God that holds thy Heart; Since _Silvia_ for another burns, And all thy past Indurement scorns While thou the Cully art.

I believed, as she spoke, that I had ill understood her, but she repeated it so often, that I no longer doubted my wretchedness. I leave you, who so well can guess, to imagin, what Complaints I made, filling the Grove, where I was laid, with my piteous Cries; sometimes I rose and raved, and rail’d on Love, and reproached the fair Fugitive. But the tender God was still pleading in my Heart, and made me ever end my noisy Griefs in Sighs and silent Tears. A thousand Thoughts of revenge I entertained against this happy Rival, and the charming ingrate: But those Thoughts, like my Rage, would also end in soft reproaching murmurs and regret only. And I would sometimes argue with Love in this manner.

Ah, cruel _Love_! when will thy Torments cease? And when shall I have leave to dye in Peace? And why, too charming and too cruel Maid, Cou’d’.t thou not yet thy fleeting Heart have stay’d? And by degrees thy fickle Humor shewn, By turns the Enemy and Friend put on: Have us’d my Heart a little to thy scorn, The loss at least might have been easier born. With feigned Vows, (that poor Expence of Breath,) Alas thou might’st have sooth’d me to my death. Thy Coldness, and thy visible decays In time had put a period to my days. And lay’d me quietly into my Tomb, Before thy proof of Perjuries had come. You might have waited yet a little space } And sav’d mine, and thy, Honour this disgrace; } Alas I languish’d and declin’d apace. } I lov’d my Life too eagerly away To have disturb’d thee with too long a stay. Ah! cou’d you not my dying Heart have fed With some small Cordial Food, till I was dead? Then uncontroul’d, and unreproach’d your Charms Might have been render’d to my Rival’s Arms. Then all my right to him you might impart, And Triumph’d o’re a true and broken Heart.

Though I complained thus for a good while, I was not without some secret hope, that what I had heard was not true; nor would I be persuaded to undeceive myself of that hope which was so dear and precious to me. I was not willing to be convinced I was intirely miserable, out of too great a fear to find it true; and there were some Moments in which I believed _Fame_ might falsly accuse _Silvia_, and it did not seem reasonable to me, that, after all the Vows and Oaths she had made, she should so easily betray ‘em, and forgetting my Services, receive those of another, less capable of rend’ring them to her advantage. Sometimes I would excuse her ingratitude with a thousand things that seem’d reasonable, but still that was but to make me more sensible of my disgrace; and then I would accuse myself of a thousand weaknesses below the Character of a Man; I would even despise and loath my own easiness, and resolve to be no longer a _Mark-out-fool_ for all the Rhiming Wits of the Island to aim their Dogrel at. And grown, as I imagined, brave at this thought, I resolved first to be fully convinced of the perfidy of my Mistress, and then to rent my Heart from the attachment that held it.

You know, that from the _Desart of Remembrance_, one does, with great facility, look over all the _Island of Love_. I was resolved to go thither one day; and where indeed I could survey all things that past, in the Groves, the Bowers, by Rivers, or Fountains, or whatever other place, remote or obscure ‘twas from thence, that one day I saw the faithless _Silvia_, in the Palace of _True Pleasure_, in the very Bower of Bliss with one of my Rivals, but most intimate Friend.

‘Twas there, I saw my Rival take Pleasures, he knew how to make; There he took, and there was given, All the Joys that Rival Heaven; Kneeling at her Feet he lay, And in transports dy’d away: Where the faithless suffer’d too All the amorous Youth cou’d do.

The Ardour of his fierce desire Set his Face and Eyes on fire. All their Language was the Blisses Of Ten thousand eager Kisses; While his ravish’d Neck she twin’d And to his Kisses, Kisses join’d; Till, both inflam’d, she yeilded so She suffer’d all the Youth cou’d do.

In fine, ‘twas there I saw that I must lose the day. And I saw in this Lover Ten thousand Charms of Youth and Beauty; on which the ingrate with greedy languishing Eyes, eternally gazed with the same Joy she used to behold me when she made me most happy. I confess, this Object was so far from pleasing me, (as I believed a confirmation would,) that the change inspired me with a rage, which nothing else could do, and made me say things unbecoming the Dignity of my Sex, who ought to disdain those faithless Slaves, which Heaven first made to obey the Lords of the Creation. A thousand times I was about to have rush’d upon ‘em, and have ended the Lives of the loose betrayers of my repose, but Love stepp’d in and stay’d my hand, preventing me from an Outrage, that would have cost me that rest of Honour, I yet had left: But when my rage was abated, I fell to a more insupportable Torment, that of extream Grief to find another possest of what I had been so long, and with so much Toil in gaining: ‘Twas thus I retir’d, and after a little while brought myself to make calm Reflections upon this Adventure, which reduced me to some reason. When one day as I was walking in an unfrequented Shade, whither my Melancholy had conducted me, I incountred a Man, of a haughty look and meen, his Apparel rich and glorious, his Eyes awful, and his Stature tall; the very sight of him inspired me with coldness, which render’d me almost insensible of the infidelity of _Silvia_. This Person was _Pride_, who looking on me, as he past, with a fierce and disdainful Smile, over his Shoulder, and regarding me with scorn, said;

Why shou’d that faithless wanton give Thy Heart so mortal pain, Whose Sighs were only to deceive, Her Oaths all false and vain? Despise those Tears thou shedd’st for her, Disdain to sigh her Name. To _Love_, thy Liberty prefer; To faithless _Silvia_, Fame.

I knew by his words he was _Pride_, or _Disdain_, and would have embraced him; but he put me off, seeing _Love_ still by me, who had not yet abandoned me, and turned himself from me with a regardless scorn, but I, who was resolved not to forsake so discreet a Counsellor, rather chose to take my leave of little _Love_; who had ever accompanyed me in this Voyage. But oh! this adieu was not taken so easily and soon as I imagined. _Love_ was not to be quitted without abundance of Sighs and Tears at parting, he had been a Witness to all my Adventures, my Confident in this Amour, and not to be deserted without a great deal of pain; I stayed so long in bidding the dear Boy adieu, that I had almost forgot _Disdain_; at last, though my Heart were breaking to part with the dear fondling, I was resolved and said;

Farewel, my little charming Boy! Farewel, my fond delight, My dear Instructor all the day, My soft repose at night. Thou, whom my Soul has so carest, And my poor Heart has held so fast, Thou never left me in my pain, Nor in my happier hours; Thou eas’d me when I did complain, And dry’d my falling showrs. When _Silvia_ frown’d still thou woud’st smile, And all my Cares and Griefs beguile.

But _Silvia’s_ gone, and I have torn Her Witchcrafts from my Heart; And nobly fortify’d by scorn Her Empire will subvert; The Laws establish’d there destroy, And bid adieu to the dear charming Boy.

In quitting _Love_ I was a great while before I could find _Disdain_, but I, at last, overtook him: He accompanyed me to a Village, where I received a Joy I had not known since my Arrival to the _Isle of Love_, and which Repose seemed the sweeter because it was new. When I came to this place, I saw all the World Easie, Idle, and at Liberty: This Village is like a Desart, and all the Inhabitants live within themselves, there is only one Gate, by which we enter into it from the _Isle of Love_.

This place is called _Indifference_, and takes its Name from a Princess inhabiting there, a Person very fair and well made; but has a Grace and Meen of so little Wit, and seems so inutile and so silly, that it renders her even ridiculous. As soon as I arrived there, I called to my remembrance all those affronts and cheats of Love, that _Silvia_ had put upon me, and which now served for my diversion, and were agreeable thoughts to me; so that I called myself Ten thousand Sots and Fools for resenting ‘em; and that I did not heartily despise ‘em, laugh at ’.m, and make my Pleasure with the false One as well as the rest; for she dissembled well, and for ought I knew, ‘twas but dissembled Love she paid my Rivals. But I, forsooth, was too nice a Coxcomb, I cou’d not feed as others did, and be contented with such Pleasures as she cou’d afford, but I must ingross all, and unreasonably believe a Woman of Youth and Wit had not a longer Race of Love to run than to my Arms alone. Well, ‘tis now confest I was a Fool, nor could I hinder myself from saying a thousand times a day;

That Coxcomb can ne’re be at ease, While Beauty inslaves his Soul. ‘Tis Liberty only can please, And he that’s Fetter’d is an Owl.

I found it very convenient and happy to dis-ingage from Love, and I have wond’red a thousand times at the Follies that God has made me commit: And though I som’times thought on _Silvia_, I thought her less charming and fair than she was before her fall; and the Humour I now was in represented her no more meriting that Passion I once had for her, and I fancied she had lost all those Graces for which once I lov’d her: In fine, I was so wholly recovered of my disease of Love for _Silvia_, that I began to be uneasie for want of employing my Addresses; and a change from so violent a Passion to such a degree of coldness, became insupportable to one of my Youth and I natural Gayety; insomuch, that I was seized with a Dulness, or Languishment, and so great a fit of Melancholy, as I had never felt the like; and my Heart, that was so accustomed to Love, was so out of Humour, that it had no Object or Business for thought, that it lost all its Harmony and Wit; it having nothing to excite it to Life and Motion, passing from so vast a degree of tenderness to an unconcern equally extream. I thought it rude, ill-bred, and idle, to live so indifferent and insignificant a Life. And walking perpetually by myself, (or with those of my own Sex, that could not make my diversion,) I sung all day this following Song to a Hum-drum Tune, to myself;

Not to sigh and to be tender, Not to talk and prattle Love, Is a Life no good can render, And insipidly does move: Unconcern do’s Life destroy, Which, without Love, can know no Joy.

Life, without adoring Beauty, Will be useless all the day;

Love’s a part of Human Duty, And ‘tis Pleasure to obey. In vain the Gods did Life bestow, Where kinder Love has nought to do.

What is Life, but soft desires, And that Soul, that is not made To entertain what Love inspires, Oh thou dull immortal Shade? Thou’dst better part with Flesh and Blood, Than be, where Life’s not understood.

These were my notions of Life; and I found myself altogether useless in the World without Love; methought I had nothing to animate me to Gallant things, without Love, or Women: I had no use of Wit or Youth without the fair, and yet I did not wish wholly to ingage myself neither a second time, having been so ill-treated before by Love: But I found there were ways to entertain one’s self agreeably enough without dying or venturing the breaking of a heart for the matter: That there were Beauties to be obtained without the hazard of hanging or drowning one’s self: I never had tried, but I found it natural enough to my Humour and Constitution, to flatter and dissemble, swear and lye; I viewed my self in my Glass, and found myself very well recovered from the Ruins my first Amour had made, and believed myself as fit for Conquest, as any Sir _Fopling_, or Sir _Courtly Nice_ of ‘em all. To this fine Person and good Meen and Shape, (as I thought,) I added handsom Dressing, the thing that takes the Heart infinitely above all your other Parts, and thus set out a snare for vain Beauty; I every day went out of the City of _Indifference_, to see what new Adventures I could meet withal.

One day I incountred a Woman, who, at first sight appeared very agreeable; she had an Air easie, free, and Galliard; such as fails not to take at first view: This was _Coquettre_, who, the very first time she saw me, Addrest herself to me with very great Complisance and good Humour, and invited me to her Apartment, where she assured me I should not fail to be entertained very agreeably; and at the same time pulling out of her Pocket a Paper, she shewed me these Words written;