nguish. My passion at length grew so violent, that I
began to think of satisfying it. As the first step to this, I cautiously
inquired into the circumstances of Ariadne's parents, with which I was
hitherto unacquainted: though, indeed, I did not apprehend they were
extremely great, notwithstanding the handsome appearance of their
daughter at Rome. Upon examination, her fortune exceeded my expectation,
but was not sufficient to justify my marriage with her, in the opinion
of the wise and prudent. I had now a violent struggle between wisdom
and happiness, in which, after several grievous pangs, wisdom got
the better. I could by no means prevail with myself to sacrifice that
character of profound wisdom, which I had with such uniform conduct
obtained, and with such caution hitherto preserved. I therefore resolved
to conquer my affection, whatever it cost me; and indeed it did not cost
me a little.

"While I was engaged in this conflict (for it lasted a long time)
Ariadne returned to Rome: her presence was a terrible enemy to my
wisdom, which even in her absence had with great difficulty stood
its ground. It seems (as she hath since told me in Elysium with much
merriment) I had made the same impressions on her which she had made on
me. Indeed, I believe my wisdom would have been totally subdued by this
surprise, had it not cunningly suggested to me a method of satisfying my
passion without doing any injury to my reputation. This was by engaging
her privately as a mistress, which was at that time reputable enough
at Rome, provided the affair was managed with an air of slyness and
gravity, though the secret was known to the whole city.

"I immediately set about this project, and employed every art and engine
to effect it. I had particularly bribed her priest, and an old female
acquaintance and distant relation of hers, into my interest: but all
was in vain; her virtue opposed the passion in her breast as strongly as
wisdom had opposed it in mine. She received my proposals with the utmost
disdain, and presently refused to see or hear from me any more.

"She returned again to Naples, and left me in a worse condition than
before. My days I now passed with the most irksome uneasiness, and
my nights were restless and sleepless. The story of our amour was now
pretty public, and the ladies talked of our match as certain; but my
acquaintance denied their assent, saying, 'No, no, he is too wise to
marry so imprudently.' This their o