d the first words were from _Katteriena_, who, in a sort of
Anger, cry'd, 'Urge me no more! My Virtue is too nice, to become an
Advocate for a Passion, that can tend to nothing but your Ruin; for,
suppose I should tell the fair _Isabella_, you dye for her, what can it
avail you? What hope can any Man have, to move the Heart of a Virgin, so
averse to Love? A Virgin, whose Modesty and Virtue is so very curious,
it would fly the very word, Love, as some monstrous Witchcraft, or the
foulest of Sins, who would loath me for bringing so lewd a Message, and
banish you her Sight, as the Object of her Hate and Scorn; is it unknown
to you, how many of the noblest Youths of _Flanders_ have address'd
themselves to her in vain, when yet she was in the World? Have you been
ignorant, how the young Count de _Villenoys_ languished, in vain, almost
to Death for her? And, that no Persuasions, no Attractions in him, no
wordly Advantages, or all his Pleadings, who had a Wit and Spirit
capable of prevailing on any Heart, less severe and harsh, than hers? Do
you not know, that all was lost on this insensible fair one, even when
she was a proper Object for the Adoration of the Young and Amorous? And
can you hope, now she has so entirely wedded her future days to
Devotion, and given all to Heaven; nay, lives a Life here more like a
Saint, than a Woman; rather an Angel, than a mortal Creature? Do you
imagin, with any Rhetorick you can deliver, now to turn the Heart, and
whole Nature, of this Divine Maid, to consider your Earthly Passion? No,
'tis fondness, and an injury to her Virtue, to harbour such a Thought;
quit it, quit it, my dear Brother! before it ruin your Repose.' 'Ah,
Sister! (replied the dejected _Henault_) your Counsel comes too late,
and your Reasons are of too feeble force, to rebate those Arrows, the
Charming _Isabella's_ Eyes have fix'd in my Heart and Soul; and I am
undone, unless she know my Pain, which I shall dye, before I shall ever
dare mention to her; but you, young Maids, have a thousand Familiarities
together, can jest, and play, and say a thousand things between Railery
and Earnest, that may first hint what you would deliver, and insinuate
into each others Hearts a kind of Curiosity to know more; for naturally,
(my dear Sister) Maids, are curious and vain; and however Divine the
Mind of the fair _Isabella_ may be, it bears the Tincture still of
Mortal Woman.'

'Suppose this true, how could this Mortal part about her Adva