her yielding. Their Flames now joyned, grew more and
more, glowed in their Cheeks, and lightened in their Glances: Eager they
looked, as if there were Pulses beating in their Eyes; and all
endearing, at last she vowed, that _Frankwit_ living she would ne'er be
any other Man's. Thus they past on some time, while every Day rowl'd
over fair; Heaven showed an Aspect all serene, and the Sun seemed to
smile at what was done. He still caressed his Charmer, with an Innocence
becoming his Sincerity; he lived upon her tender Breath, and basked in
the bright Lustre of her Eyes, with Pride, and secret Joy.

He saw his Rivals languish for that Bliss, those Charms, those Raptures
and extatick Transports, which he engrossed alone. But now some eighteen
Months (some Ages in a Lover's Kalendar) winged with Delights, and fair
_Belvira_ now grown fit for riper Joys, knows hardly how she can deny
her pressing Lover, and herself, to crown their Vows, and joyn their
Hands as well as Hearts. All this while the young Gallant wash'd himself
clean of that shining Dirt, his Gold; he fancied little of Heaven dwelt
in his yellow Angels, but let them fly away, as it were on their own
golden Wings; he only valued the smiling Babies in _Belvira's_ Eyes. His
Generosity was boundless, as his Love, for no Man ever truly loved, that
was not generous. He thought his Estate, like his Passion, was a sort of
a _Pontick_ Ocean, it could never know an Ebb; But now he found it could
be fathom'd, and that the Tide was turning, therefore he sollicits with
more impatience the consummation of their Joys, that both might go like
Martyrs from their Flames immediately to Heaven; and now at last it was
agreed between them, that they should both be one, but not without some
Reluctancy on the Female side; for 'tis the Humour of our Sex, to deny
most eagerly those Grants to Lovers, for which most tenderly we sigh, so
contradictory are we to our selves, as if the Deity had made us with a
seeming Reluctancy to his own Designs; placing as much Discords in our
Minds, as there is Harmony in our Faces. We are a sort of aiery Clouds,
whose Lightning flash out one way, and the Thunder another. Our Words
and Thoughts can ne'er agree. So this young charming Lady thought her
Desires could live in their own longings, like Misers wealth-devouring
Eyes; and e'er she consented to her Lover, prepared him first with
speaking Looks, and then with a fore-running Sigh, applyed to the dear
Char