Anonymous

The Player's Tragedy. Or, Fatal Love, a New Novel

London

Randal Taylor

1693

"Not so, I beseech you, Madam, (answer'd I) rather than lose the Happiness of your Conversation, I'll curb my forward Heart, that is unwilling to let me talk of any thing but its wounds."

Being behind the Scenes, the first opportunity I had---Madam (said I) you act the Lover to a Miracle, and it became you so wonderfully, that I vow 'tis a thousand pities but you shou'd be one in reality. I'm not at all oblig'd to you, Sir, (reply'd she) for your wish, in such an inconstant Interess'd Age as this is, since it must only contribute to my certain ruine. Why, Madam, (said I) did you never Love? What makes you ask that familiar question (return'd she something angry, and leaving me, pursu'd) whether I have or no, I shall never Love you I'm sure. The Heavens forbid (reply'd I, and follow'd her) But pardon me, Madam, I design'd not to affront you by that demand, because I thought it impossible so much of it shou'd appear in your bare personating a Lover, with an absolute insensibility within, and that you shou'd be so every way compleated for Love, and yet be without that Blessing of Humane Life. Sir, (said she) if you think this Discourse pleases me, I shall leave you, to convince you that it does not. Not so, I beseech you, Madam, (answer'd I) rather than lose the Happiness of your Conversation, I'll curb my forward Heart, that is unwilling to let me talk of any thing but its wounds. Alas! poor Gentleman (replyes she, and smil'd) then you are in Love it seems, and out of pure spite to those that are not so, you endeavour to spread the infection you have caught, or like some troublesome People at a Feast, will needs thrust the Dish you esteem upon every one, never considerring that another may hate it. Nay, you Lovers, are still as impertinent, as they, for neither of you will take any denyal, which methinks is something troublesome, as well as uncivil. But pray, Sir, (pursu'd she, without giving me any time to answer) what Fair Lady has undone you? None of us I dare swear, for then you wou'd not lose your time with me, which you might employ to bend her stubborn Heart. But perhaps, you are a happy Lover, and so can borrow some time from your Mistress, to make Proselytes. If so, (concluded she) 'tis pity you shou'd fling it away, and a thousand fine sayings to boot on me, since I vow, Sir, I'm as deaf to that, as the People to Virtue in distress.
(pp. 13-4)

Body::Wounds

C-H Lion

Anonymous, The Player's Tragedy. Or, Fatal Love, a New Novel (London: Printed, and Sold by Randal Taylor, 1693)

06/14/2013