he rejoin’d， ‘running from Hill to Hill， like Children chasingthat Sun， which I could never catch.’ ‘O thou shalt have it then，that Sun of Love，’ reply’d Belvira， fir’d by this Complaint，and gently rush’d into Arms， （rejoyn’d） so Phoebus rushesradiant and unsullied， into a gilded Cloud. ‘Well then， my dearBelvira，’ answered Frankwit， ‘be assured I shall be ever yours，as you are mine； fear not you shall never draw Bills of Loveupon me so fast， as I shall wait in readiness to pay them； butnow I talk of Bills， I must retire into Cambridgeshire， where Ihave a small Concern as yet unmortgaged， I will return thencewith a Brace of thousand Pounds within a Week at furthest，with which our Nuptials， by their Celebration， shall be worthyof our Love. And then， my Life， my Soul， we shall be join’d，never to part again.’ This tender Expression mov’d Belvira toshed some few Tears， and poor Celesia thought herself mostunhappy that she had not Eyes to weep with too； but if she had，such was the greatness of her Grief， that sure she would havesoon grown Blind with weeping. In short， after a great manysoft Vows， and Promises of an inviolable Faith， they partedwith a pompous sort of pleasing Woe； their Concern was ofsuch a mixture of Joy and Sadness， as the Weather seems，when it both rains and shines. And now the last， the very lastAdieu’s was over， for the Farewels of Lovers hardly ever end，and Frankwit （the Time being Summer） reach’d Cambridgethat Night， about Nine a Clock； （Strange！ that he should havemade such Haste to fly from what so much he lov’d！） and now，tir’d with the fatigue of his Journey， he thought fit to refreshhimself by writing some few Lines to his belov’d Belvira； fora little Verse after the dull Prose Company of his Servant， wasas great an Ease to him， （from whom it flow’d as naturally andunartificially， as his Love or his Breath） as a Pace or Handgallop，after a hard， uncouth， and rugged Trot. He therefore，finding his Pegasus was no way tir’d with his Land-travel，takes a short Journey thro’ the Air， and writes as follows：
My dearest dear Belvira，
YOU knew my Soul， you knew it yours before，
I told it all， and now can tell no more；
Your Presents never wants fresh Charms to move，But now more strange， and unknown Pow’r you prove，For now your very Absence ‘tis I love.
Something there is which strikes my wandring View，And still before my Eyes I fancy you.
Charming you seem， all charming， heavenly fair，Bright as a Goddess， does my Love appear，
You seem， Belvira， what indeed you are.
Like the Angelick Off-spring of the Skies，
With beatifick Glories in your Eyes：
Sparkling with radiant Lustre all Divine，
Angels， and Gods！ oh Heavens！ how bright they shine！
Are you Belvira？ can I think you mine！
Beyond ev’n Thought， I do thy Beauties see，
Can such a Heaven of Heavens be kept for me！
Oh be assur’d， I shall be ever true，
I must—
For if I would， I can’t be false to you.
Oh！ how I wish I might no longer stay，
Tho’ I resolve I will no Time delay，
One Tedious Week， and then I’ll fleet away.
Tho’ Love be blind， he shall conduct my Road，Wing’d with almighty Love， to your Abode，
I’ll fly， and grow Immortal as a God.
Short is my stay， yet my impatience strong，
Short tho’ it is， alas！ I think it long.
I’ll come， my Life， new Blessings to pursue，Love then shall fly a Flight he never flew，
I’ll stretch his balmy Wings； I’m yours，—Adieu.
Frankwit.
This Letter Belvira receiv’d with unspeakable Joy， and laid itup safely in her Bosom； laid it， where the dear Author of it laybefore， and wonderfully pleas’d with his Humour of writingVerse， resolv’d not to be at all behind-hand with him， and sowrit as follows：
My dear Charmer，
YOU knew before what Power your Love could boast，But now your constant Faith confirms me most.
Absent Sincerity the best assures，
Love may do much， but Faith much more allures，For now your Constancy has bound me yours.
I find， methinks， in Verse some Pleasure too，I cannot want a Muse， who write to you.
Ah！ soon return， return， my charming Dear，
Heav’n knows how much we Mourn your Absence here：
My poor Celesia now would Charm your Soul，
Her Eyes， once Blind， do now Divinely rowl.
An aged Matron has by Charms unknown，
Given her clear Sight as perfect as thy own.
And yet， beyond her Eyes， she values thee，
‘tis for thy Sake alone she’s glad to see.
She begg’d me， pray remember her to you，
That is a Task which now I gladly do.
Gladly， since so I only recommend
A dear Relation， and a dearer Friend，
Ne’re shall my Love—but here my Note must end.
Your ever true Belvira.
