more
certain, were I to break, as I doubt I should, the most solemn vow I
could make? I say no man ought to take even a common oath, who thinks he
cannot keep it. This is conscience! This is honour!--And when I think I
can keep the marriage-vow, then will it be time to marry.

* See Vol. III. Letter XXIII. Paragr. 4.

No doubt of it, as thou sayest, the devils would rejoice in the fall of
such a woman. But this is my confidence, that I shall have it in my
power to marry when I will. And if I do her this justice, shall I not
have a claim of her gratitude? And will she not think herself the
obliged, rather than the obliger? Then let me tell thee, Belford, it is
impossible so far to hurt the morals of this lady, as thou and thy
brother varlets have hurt others of the sex, who now are casting about
the town firebrands and double death. Take ye that thistle to mumble
upon.

***

A short interruption. I now resume.

That the morals of this lady cannot fail, is a consideration that will
lessen the guilt on both sides. And if, when subdued, she knows but how
to middle the matter between virtue and love, then will she be a wife for
me: for already I am convinced that there is not a woman in the world
that is love-proof and plot-proof, if she be not the person.

And now imagine (the charmer overcome) thou seest me sitting supinely
cross-kneed, reclining on my sofa, the god of love dancing in my eyes,
and rejoicing in every mantling feature; the sweet rogue, late such a
proud rogue, wholly in my power, moving up slowly to me, at my beck, with
heaving sighs, half-pronounced upbraidings from murmuring lips, her
finger in her eye, and quickening her pace at my Come hither, dearest!

One hand stuck in my side, the other extended to encourage her bashful
approach--Kiss me, love!--sweet, as Jack Belford says, are the joys that
come with willingness.

She tenders her purple mouth [her coral lips will be purple then, Jack!]:
sigh not so deeply, my beloved!--Happier hours await thy humble love,
than did thy proud resistance.

Once more bent to my ardent lips the swanny glossiness of a neck late so
stately.--

There's my precious!

Again!

Obliging loveliness!

O my ever-blooming glory! I have tried thee enough. To-morrow's sun--

Then I rise, and fold to my almost-talking heart the throbbing-bosom'd
charmer.

And now shall thy humble pride confess its obligation to me!

To-morrow's sun--and then I