« AnteriorContinuar »
tell you, is the mother of Cupid, and mistress of Mars.
At present the drum is beating up under my window for volunteers to Bacchus-In plain English, the drum tells me dinner is ready; for a drum gives us bloody-minded heroes an appetite for eating, as well as for fighting; nay, we get up by the beat of it, and it every night sends, or ought to send us, to bed and to sleep. To-night it will be late before I get to one or the other, I fancy--indeed, the thoughts of you would prevent the latter. But, the next disgrace to refusing a challenge, is refusing a toast. The merit of a jolly fellow and of a spunge is much about the same. For my part, no glass of any liquor tastes as it should to me, but when I kiss my M. on the rim.
Adieu-Whatever hard service I may have after dinner, no quantity of wine shall make me yet drop or forget my appointment with you tomorrow. We certainly were not seen yesterday, for reasons I will give you.
Though you should persist in never being mine,
To the Same.
Huntingdon, Dec. 6, 1775.
My deareft M. No I will not take advantage of the sweet, reluctant, amorous confession which your candour gave me yesterday. If to make me happy be to make my M. otherwise; then, happiness, I'll none of tliee.
And yet I could argue. Suppose he has bred you up-Suppose you do owe your numerous accomplishments, under genius, to himare you therefore his property? Is it as if a horse that he has bred up should refuse to carry him? Suppose you therefore are his property-Will the fidelity of so many years weigh nothing in the scale of gratitude ?
Years-why, can obligations (suppose they had not been repaid an hundred fold) do away the unnatural disparity of years? Can they bid fiveand-fifty stand still (the least that you could alk), and wait for five-and-twenty ? Many women have the same obligations (ifindeed there be many of the same accomplishments) to their fathers. They have the additional obligation to them (if, B2
indeed, it be an obligation) of existence. The disparity of years is foinetimes even less. But, must they therefore take their fathers to their bosoms? Must the jesťamine fling its tender arms around the dying elm?
Tomylittle fortunes you are no stranger. Will you fhare them with me? And you shall honestly tell his Lordship that gratitude taught you to pay every duty to him, till love taught you there were other duties which you owed to H. Gracious Heaven that you would pay them! But, did I not say I would not take advantage ? I will not. I will even remind you of your children; to whom I, alas, could only shew at present the affection of a father.
M. weigh us in the scales. If gratitude out balance love-fo.
If you command it, I swear by love, I'll join my regiment to-morrow.
If love prevail, and insist upon his dues ; you fhall declare the victory and the prize. I will take no advantage.
Think over this. Neither will I take you by surprize. Sleep upon it, before you return your answer. Trim fhall make the old excuse tomorrow. And thank Heaven! to-night you sleep. alone.
Why did you sing that sweet song yesterday, though I so pressed you? Those words and your voice, were too much.
No words can say how much I am your's.
Dec. 7, 1775: My dear H. HERE has been a fad piece of work ever since I received your’s yesterday. But, don't be alarmed-We are not discovered to the prophane. Our tender tale is only known to-(whom does your fear suggest?)—to love and gratitude, my H. And they ought both for twenty reasons, to be your friends, I am sure.
They have been trying your cause, ever since the departure of honest Trim yesterday. Love, though in my opinion not so blind, is as good a justice, as Sir John Fielding. I argued the matter stoutly-my head on his Lordship's side of the question, my heart on your's. At last they seemed to say, as if the oath of allegiance, which I had taken to gratitude, at a time when,Heaven knows, I had never heard of love, should be void, and I fhould be at full liberty to devote myself, body B 3
and foul, to-But call on me to-morrow before dinner, and I'll tell you their final judgment. This I will tell you now love sent you the tenderest wishes, and gratitude said I could never pay you all I owe you for your noble letter of yesterday.
Yet-oh, my H. think not meanly of me ever forthis-Do'not you turn advocate against me.
I will not pain you-'tis impossible you ever should.
Come then to-morrow-and surely Omiah will not murder love! Yet I thought the other day he caught our eyes conversing. Eyes speak a language all can understand. --But, is a child of nature to nip in the bud that favourite paffion which his mother Nature planted, and ftill tends ?--What will Oberea and her coterie say to this, Omiah, when you return from making the tour of the globe? They'll blackball you, depend on it.
What would Roffeau say to it, my H.?
You shall tell me to-morrow. I will not write another word; left conscience, who is just now looking over my left shoulder, should snatch my pen,
and scratch out to-morrow.