Greatness, charm'd
all her Beholders; and thousands of People were dying by her Eyes, while
she was vain enough to glory in her Conquests, and make it her Business
to wound. She lov'd nothing so much as to behold sighing Slaves at her
Feet, of the greatest Quality; and treated them all with an Affability
that gave them Hope. Continual Musick, as soon as it was dark, and Songs
of dying Lovers, were sung under her Windows; and she might well have
made herself a great Fortune (if she had not been so already) by the
rich Presents that were hourly made her; and every body daily expected
when she would make some one happy, by suffering her self to be
conquer'd by Love and Honour, by the Assiduities and Vows of some one of
her Adorers. But _Miranda_ accepted their Presents, heard their Vows
with Pleasure, and willingly admitted all their soft Addresses; but
would not yield her Heart, or give away that lovely Person to the
Possession of one, who could please it self with so many. She was
naturally amorous, but extremely inconstant: She lov'd one for his Wit,
another for his Face, and a third for his Mein; but above all, she
admir'd Quality: Quality alone had the Power to attach her entirely; yet
not to one Man, but that Virtue was still admir'd by her in all:
Where-ever she found that, she lov'd, or at least acted the Lover with
such Art, that (deceiving well) she fail'd not to compleat her Conquest;
and yet she never durst trust her fickle Humour with Marriage. She knew
the Strength of her own Heart, and that it could not suffer itself to be
confin'd to one Man, and wisely avoided those Inquietudes, and that
Uneasiness of Life she was sure to find in that married State, which
would, against her Nature, oblige her to the Embraces of one, whose
Humour was, to love all the Young and the Gay. But Love, who had
hitherto only play'd with her Heart, and given it nought but pleasing
wanton Wounds, such as afforded only soft Joys, and not Pains, resolv'd,
either out of Revenge to those Numbers she had abandon'd, and who had
sigh'd so long in vain, or to try what Power he had upon so fickle a
Heart, to send an Arrow dipp'd in the most tormenting Flames that rage
in Hearts most sensible. He struck it home and deep, with all the Malice
of an angry God.

There was a Church belonging to the _Cordeliers_, whither _Miranda_
often repair'd to her Devotion; and being there one Day, accompany'd
with a young Sister of the Order, after the Mass wa