The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume VI

by Aphra Behn

TEN o'CLOCK.

Reflections.

After the afflicting Thoughts of my Absence, make some Reflections on your Happiness. Think it a Blessing to be permitted to love me; think it so, because I permit it to you alone, and never could be drawn to allow it any other. The first thing you ought to consider, is, that at length I have suffer'd my self to be overcome, to quit that Nicety that is natural to me, and receive your Addresses; nay, thought 'em agreeable: and that I have at last confess'd, the Present of your Heart is very dear to me. 'Tis true, I did not accept of it the first time it was offer'd me, nor before you had told me a thousand times, that you could not escape expiring, if I did not give you leave to sigh for me, and gaze upon me; and that there was an absolute necessity for me, either to give you leave to love, or die. And all those Rigours my Severity has made you suffer, ought now to be recounted to your Memory, as Subjects of Pleasure; and you ought to esteem and judge of the Price of my Affections, by the Difficulties you found in being able to touch my Heart: Not but you have Charms that can conquer at first sight; and you ought not to have valu'd me less, if I had been more easily gain'd: But 'tis enough to please you, to think and know I am gain'd; no matter when and how. When, after a thousand Cares and Inquietudes, that which we wish for succeeds to our Desires, the remembrance of those Pains and Pleasures we encounter'd in arriving at it, gives us a new Joy.

Remember also, Damon, that I have preferred you before all those that have been thought worthy of my Esteem; and that I have shut my Eyes to all their pleading Merits, and could survey none but yours.

Consider then, that you had not only the Happiness to please me, but that you only found out the way of doing it, and I had the Goodness at last to tell you so, contrary to all the Delicacy and Niceness of my Soul, contrary to my Prudence, and all those Scruples, you know, are natural to my Humour.

My Tenderness proceeded further, and I gave you innocent Marks of my new-born Passion, on all occasions that presented themselves: For, after that from my Eyes and Tongue you knew the Sentiments of my Heart, I confirm'd that Truth to you by my Letters. Confess, Damon, that if you make these Reflections, you will not pass this Hour very disagreeably.

Beginning Love.

As free as wanton Winds I liv'd,
That unconcern'd do play:
No broken Faith, no Fate I griev'd;
No Fortune gave me Joy.
A dull Content crown'd all my Hours,
My Heart no Sighs opprest;
I call'd in vain on no deaf Pow'rs,
To ease a tortur'd Breast.

The sighing Swains regardless pin'd,
And strove in vain to please:
With pain I civilly was kind,
But could afford no Ease.
Tho' Wit and Beauty did abound,
The Charm was wanting still,
That could inspire the tender Wound,
Or bend my careless Will.

Till in my Heart a kindling Flame
Your softer Sighs had blown;
Which I, with striving, Love and Shame,
Too sensibly did own.
Whate'er the God before cou'd plead;
Whate'er the Youth's Desert;
The feeble Siege in vain was laid
Against my stubborn Heart.

At first my Sighs and Blushes spoke,
Just when your Sighs would rise;
And when you gaz'd, I wish'd to look,
But durst not meet your Eyes.
I trembled when my Hand you press'd,
Nor cou'd my Guilt controul;
But Love prevail'd, and I confess'd
The Secrets of my Soul.

And when upon the giving part,
My Present to avow,
By all the ways confirm'd my Heart,
That Honour wou'd allow;
Too mean was all that I could say,
Too poorly understood:
I gave my Soul the noblest way,
My Letters made it good.

You may believe I did not easily, nor suddenly, bring my Heart to this Condescension; but I lov'd, and all things in Damon were capable of making me resolve so to do. I could not think it a Crime, where every Grace, and every Virtue justified my Choice: And when once one is assured of this, we find not much difficulty in owning that Passion which will so well commend one's Judgment; and there is no Obstacle that Love does not surmount. I confess'd my Weakness a thousand ways, before I told it you; and I remember all those things with Pleasure, but yet I remember 'em also with Shame.