So, Reader, having now discharg’d my Conscience of a small Discovery which I thought my self obliged to make to Thee, I proceed to tell thee, that our Friend Aurelian had by this time danced himself into a Net which he neither could, nor which is worse desired to untangle.
His Soul was charm’d to the movement of her Body: an Air so graceful, so sweet, so easie and so great, he had never seen. She had something of Majesty in her, which appear’d to be born with her; and though it struck an awe into the Beholders, yet was it sweetned with a familiarity of Behaviour, which rendred it agreeable to every Body. The grandeur of her Mien was not stiff, but unstudied and unforced, mixed with a simplicity; free, yet not loose nor affected. If the former seem’d to condescend, the latter seem’d to aspire; and both to unite in the centre of Perfection. Every turn she gave in dancing snatcht Aurelian into a Rapture, and he had like to have been out two or three times with following his Eyes, which she led about as Slaves to her Heels.
As soon as they had done dancing, he began to complain of his want of Breath and Lungs, to speak sufficiently in her Commendation; She smilingly told him, he did ill to dance so much then: Yet in Consideration of the pains he had taken more than ordinary upon her account she would bate him a great deal of Complement, but with this Proviso, That he was to discover to her who he was. Aurelian was unwilling for the present to own himself to be really the Man he was; when a suddain thought came into his Head to take upon him the Name and Character of Hippolito, who he was sure was not known in Florence. He thereupon, after a little pause, pretended to recal himself in this manner: ‘Madam, it is no small demonstration of the entire Resignation which I have made of my Heart to your Chains, since the secrets of it are no longer in my power. I confess I only took Florence in my way, not designing any longer Residence, than should be requisite to inform the Curiosity of a Traveller, of the rareties of the Place. Whether Happiness or Misery will be the Consequence of that Curiosity, I am yet in fear, and submit to your Determination; but sure I am, not to depart Florence till you have made me the most miserable Man in it, and refuse me the fatal Kindness of Dying at your Feet. I am by Birth a Spaniard, of the City of Toledo; my name Hippolito di Saviolina: I was yesterday a Man free, as Nature made the first; to day I am fallen into a Captivity, which must continue with my Life, and which, it is in your power, to make much dearer to me. Thus in obedience to your Commands, and contrary to my Resolution of remaining unknown in this place, I have inform’d you, Madam, what I am; what I shall be, I desire to know from you; at least, I hope, the free discovery I have made of my self, will encourage you to trust me with the knowledge of your Person.
Here a low bow, and a deep sigh, put an end to his Discourse, and signified his Expectation of her Reply, which was to this purpose—(But I had forgot to tell you, That Aurelian kept off his Mask from the time that he told her he was of Spain, till the period of his Relation.) Had I thought (said she) that my Curiosity would have brought me in debt, I should certainly have forborn it; or at least have agreed with you before hand about the rate of your discovery, then I had not brought my self to the Inconveniency of being censur’d, either of too much easiness or reservedness; but to avoid, as much as I can, the extreamity of either, I am resolv’d but to discover my self in part, and will endeavour to give you as little occasion as I can, either to boast of, or ridicule the Behaviour of the Women of Florence in your Travels.
Aurelian interrupted her, and swore very solemnly (and the more heartily, I believe, because he then indeed spoke truth) that he would make Florence the place of his abode, whatever concerns he had elsewhere. She advised him to be cautious how he swore to his Expressions of Gallantry; and farther told him she now hoped she should make him a return to all the Fine Things he had said, since she gave him his choice whether he would know who she was, or see her Face.
Aurelian who was really in Love, and in whom Consideration would have been a Crime, greedily embrac’d the latter, since she assured him at that time he should not know both. Well, what follow’d? Why, she pull’d off her Mask, and appear’d to him at once in the Glory of Beauty. But who can tell the astonishment Aurelian felt? He was for a time senseless; Admiration had suppress’d his Speech, and his Eyes were entangled in Light. In short, to be made sensible of his condition, we must conceive some Idea of what he beheld, which is not to be imagined till seen, nor then to be express’d. Now see the impertinence and conceitedness of an Author, who will have a fling at a Description, which he has Prefaced with an impossibility. One might have seen something in her Composition resembling the Formation of Epicurus his World, as if every Atome of Beauty had concurr’d to unite an excellency. Had that curious Painter lived in her days, he might have avoided his painful search, when he collected from the choicest pieces the most choice Features, and by a due Disposition and Judicious Symmetry of those exquisite parts, made one whole and perfect Venus. Nature seem’d here to have play’d the Plagiary, and to have molded into Substance the most refined Thoughts of inspired Poets. Her Eyes diffus’d Rays comfortable as warmth, and piercing as the light; they would have worked a passage through the straightest Pores, and with a delicious heat, have play’d about the most obdurate frozen Heart, untill ’twere melted down to Love. Such Majesty and Affability were in her Looks; so alluring, yet commanding was her Presence, that it minged awe with love; kindling a Flame which trembled to aspire. She had danced much, which, together with her being close masked, gave her a tincture of Carnation more than ordinary. But Aurelian (from whom I had every tittle of her Description) fancy’d he saw a little Nest of Cupids break from the Tresses of her Hair, and every one officiously betake himself to his task. Some fann’d with their downy Wings, her glowing Cheeks; while others brush’d the balmy Dew from off her Face, leaving alone a heavenly Moisture blubbing on her Lips, on which they drank and revell’d for their pains; Nay, so particular were their allotments in her service, that Aurelian was very positive a young Cupid who was but just Pen-feather’d, employ’d his naked Quills to pick her Teeth. And a thousand other things his transport represented to him, which none but Lovers who have experience of such Visions will believe.
As soon as he awaked and found his Speech come to him, he employ’d it to this effect:
‘’Tis enough that I have seen a Divinity—Nothing but Mercy can inhabit these Perfections—Their utmost rigour brings a Death preferable to any Life, but what they give—Use me, Madam, as you please; for by your fair self, I cannot think a Bliss beyond what now I feel—You wound with Pleasure, and if you Kill it must be with Transport—Ah! Yet methinks to live—O Heaven! to have Life pronounced by those Bless’d Lips—Did they not inspire where they command, it were an immediate Death of Joy.
Aurelian was growing a little too loud with his Admiration, had she not just then interrupted him, by clapping on her Masque, and telling him they should be observed, if he proceeded in his Extravagance; and withal, that his Passion was too suddain to be real, and too violent to be lasting. He replied, Indeed it might not be very lasting, (with a submissive mournful Voice) but it would continue during his Life. That it was suddain, he denied, for she had raised it by degrees from his first sight of her, by a continued discovery of Charms, in her Mien and Conversation, till she thought fit to set Fire to the Train she had laid, by the Lightning of her Face; and then he could not help it, if he were blown up.
He begg’d her to believe the Sincerity of his Passion, at least to enjoin him something, which might tend to the Convincing of her Incredulity. She said, she should find a time to make some Trials of him; but for the first, she charged him not to follow or observe her, after the Dissolution of the Assembly. He promised to obey, and entreated her to tell him but her Name, that he might have Recourse to that in his Affliction for her Absence, if he were able to survive it. She desired him to live by all means; and if he must have a Name to play with, to call her Incognita, till he were better informed.