"Beauclair was more gallant; and believing that if ever he desir'd any greater Testimonies of the Conquest he had made of her Heart, than what her Eyes declar'd, now was the Time to obtain them."

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

1723, 1725
"Beauclair was more gallant; and believing that if ever he desir'd any greater Testimonies of the Conquest he had made of her Heart, than what her Eyes declar'd, now was the Time to obtain them."
Metaphor in Context
One Evening as they were alone together at MadamoiselleD'ovrier's, (Du Lache having excus'd himself from waiting on Beauclair,) she, artfully waving all other Subjects of Conversation, turn'd it in such a manner, that it more wore the Face of Chance thanDesign, into an Argument on the Force of Love: She pretended to prove that whatever Indecorums were the Consequences of that Passion, they were wholly unavoidable, and therefore cou'd not but bepardonable. A Man must have been very uncourtly, indeed, that, whatever his Thoughts were, wou'd have disputed with a Lady on that Topick; Beauclair was more gallant; and believing that if ever he desir'd any greater Testimonies of the Conquest he had made of her Heart, than what her Eyes declar'd, now was the Time to obtain them: He catch'd her suddenly in his Arms, and strenuously embracing her, cry'd out in a sort of Extacy, O Madam! how divinely good you are to declare your Willingness to forgive Actions which cannot, by him who gazes on your Charms, but with Torments inexpressible be restrain'd! And perceiving she affected a little Astonishment at his Proceeding; Nay, Madam, continu'd he, by your own Words you stand condemn'd, I own my self a Lover, an Adorer of your Perfections! --- I am no longer Master of my Passion! ---I must indulge the burning Wishes of my Soul! ---And you must pardon 'em! ---You have said you will; --- and sure, you are too heavenly to retract your Promise. --- A thousand melting Kisses, on her Lips, on her Eyes, her Breasts, made a delightful Parenthesis between almost every Word he spoke, and took from her the Power of answering, if she had attempted it; but she, who was truly charm'd with him, and had long languish'd for the Blessing she now so unexpectedly possess'd, was for some Moments too much transported to have Recourse to Artifice: Scarce knowing what she did, she mix'd her Breath with his; and as he held her, press'd him closer still! But Presence of Mind (which till this Juncture never had been absent from her Breast) resuming its former Place, and reminding her, how cheap, in his Esteem, a too easy Yielding would make her appear, oblig'd her to make some faint Efforts to get loose from his Embrace. ----O unhappy and unguarded Woman that I am, (said she, seeming to weep,) by my own Inadvertency I am lost! ---This dangerous Charmer has search'd into my Soul, and found the fatal Secret out, which till this Moment I durst not tell my self. ---- Oh! I am undone for ever (pursu'd she after a Pause, and mustering all her Force to dart one piercing Glance) unless Beauclair, the wondrous,---the lovely, dear destroying Beauclair, will be kind enough to hate me,---to take himself for ever from me,---and let me see that all-undoing Form no more. First perish this Form, (interrupted he, by this Time fir'd, if not with Love, with something which too often bears the Name of it,) blind these Eyes! and new, and unimagin'd Curses light on each Limb and Faculty of Beauclair, when he consents even in a Thought to quit the divine Tortilée! Ah! then, cry'd she, there is no Power in Heaven or Earth can save me! --- Fame, Duty, Virtue, are too weak Defence----against those conquering Eyes, that Shape, that Air, that Mein, that Wit, that Voice, those thousand, thousand Worlds of Charms! Death only is a Refuge for Tortilée! As she spoke these Words she sunk by degrees, and at last fell quite back, in a counterfeited Swoon, in the Chair she was sitting in: Beauclair started immediately from his, and run to the Door, but not to call any Assistance, or bring Water to revive her, (as perhaps some over-aw'd Lovers might have been stupid enough to have done,) but to make it fast, and prevent any other Person from sharing with him in the Glory of restoring her to Life; nor was he, at his Return, at a Loss for Means to bring her back to Sense: But if he cou'd have had Power to inform that Sense with a just Notion of the Happiness she was Mistress of, she had indeed been blest; his extravagant Extent of charming, if not a sufficientSanction for the Crime, was yet a prodigious Excuse, and his unquestion'd Honour a Security for the Concealment of it: But, alas! not all the Glories of his Form or Soul, not all the countless Wonders of his Wit and Beauty could work that Miracle, and triumph over the Inconstancy of this universal Dispenser of her Favours: She who, engag'd with a Multiplicity of Lovers, cou'd find no Satisfaction while wanting Beauclair; languish'd for others, when possest of him; and this accomplish'd Gentleman, in a little Time, serv'd but to swell the Number of her Admirers, scarce distinguish'd, in her Esteem, from those among 'em of the least Pretence to Merit.
Searching "heart" and "conque" in HDIS (Prose)
At least 7 entries in ESTC (1723, 1724, 1725, 1732, 1742).

The Injur’d Husband; or, the Mistaken Resentment. A Novel. Written by Mrs. Eliza Haywood. (London: Printed for D. Brown, jun. at the Black Swan, without Temple-Bar; W. Chetwood, and J. Woodman, in Russel-Street Covent-Garden; and S. Chapman, in Pall-Mall, 1723). <Link to ESTC>

Text from Secret Histories, Novels and Poems. In Four Volumes. Written by Mrs. Eliza Haywood. 2nd ed. 4 vols. (London: Printed [partly by Samuel Aris] for Dan. Browne, jun. at the Black Swan without Temple-Bar ; and S. Chapman, at the Angel in Pall-Mall, 1725). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry

The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.