« AnteriorContinuar »
key, against I come to town. As far as feeing you, I will use it sometimes; but never for an opportunity to indulge our passion. That, positively, shall never again happen under his roof. How did we applaud each other for not suffering his walls at H. to be insulted with the first scene of it! And how happy were we both, after we waked from our dream of bliss, to think how often we had acted otherwise, during the time the fnow shut me up at H.! a snow as dear to me, as to yourself.
My mind is torn, rent, with ten thousand thoughts and resolutions about you, and about myself.
When we meet, which shall be as we fixed, L may perhaps mention one idea to you.
Pray let us contrive to be together some evening that your favourite Jephtha is performed.
Inclofed is a song, which came into my hands by an accident fince we parted. Neither the words nor the music, I take it, will displease you.
When your beauty appears
In its graces and airs, All bright as an angel new dropp'd from the
sky; At distasce I gaze, and am awed by my fears, So strangely you dazzle my eye!
But when, without art,
Your kind thoughts you impart, When love runs in blushes thro'
every When it darts from your eyes, when it pants,
in your heart, Then I know you're a woman again.
" There's a passion and pride
“ In our sex,” she replied, " And thus, might I gratify both, I would do ;
“ As an angel appear to each lover befide, " But still be a woman
To the Same.
Cannon Coffee-house, Charing-cross,
17 March, 76.
before I assure you that every word I said just now came from the bottom of
heart. I never fhall be happy, never shall be in my senses, till you consent to marry me. And notwithstanding the dear night at Hockerill, and the other which your ingenuity procured me last week in D. street, I swear by the bliss of blisses, I never will taste it again till you are my wife.
17 March, 76. THOUGH you can hardly have read my last fcrawl, I must pefter you with another. I had ordered some dinner; but I can neither eat, nor do any thing else. “ Mad!”—I may be mad,
for what I know. I am sure I'm wretched,
For God's sake, for my life and soul's sake, if you love me, write directly hither, or at least
to-night to my lodgings, and say what is that ine fuperable reason on which you dwelt so much. “ Torture shall not force you to marry me.” Did you not say so? Then you hate me; and what is life worth?
Suppose you had not the dear inducement of loving me (if you love me! Damnation blot out that if !), and being adored by me-still, do you not wish to relieve yourself and me from the damned parts we act ? My soul was not formed for such meannesses. To steal in at a back door, to deceive, to plot, to lie--Perdition! the thought of it makes me despise myself.
Your children-Lord S.--(If we have not been ashamed of our conduct, why have we cheated conscience all along by “He"and“His,” and “Old Robin Gray?" Oh, how have we descended, M. !) Lord S. I say, cannot but provide for your dear boys. As to your sweet little girl I will be a father to her, as well as a husband to you. Every farthing I have I will settle on you both. I will-God knows, and you shall find what I will do for you both, when I am able. Good God, what would I not do!
Write, write ; I say, write. By the living God I will have this insuperable reason from you, or I will not believe you love me.
A. 17 March, 76. AND does myH. think I wanted such a letter as this to finish my affliction? Oh, my dear Janie, you know not how
distress me. And do you imagine I have willinglyfubmitted to the artifices to which I have been obliged, for your sake, to descend? What has been your part, from the beginning of the piece, to mine? I was obliged to act a part even to you. It was my bufiness not to let you see how unhappy the artifices, to which I have fubmitted, made me. And that they did embitter even our happiest moments.
But fate stands between us. We are doomed to be wretched. And I, every now and then, think some terrible catastrophe will come of our connection. “ Some dire event," as Storgè prophetically says in Jephtha, " hangs o'er our
“ Some woful fong we have to fing " In misery extreme.--O never, never “ Was my foreboding mind distress'd before « With such inceffant pangs !”