Love-Letters

Between a

N O B L E-M A N

And his

S I S T E R

L O N D O N ,
Printed, and are to be sold by
Randal Taylor, near Stationer's
Hall. MDCLXXXIV.

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A Note on the Text
(work in progress, 10 December 1999)

Love-letters Between a Noble-Man and His Sister is a lightly veiled fictional dramatization of the scandalous relationship between Ford, Lord Grey, a prominent Whig, and Lady Henrietta Berkeley, the daughter of the Earl of Berkeley, a loyal member of Charles II's Privy Council. It bears the imprint 1684 but was entered in the Stationers' Register on 26 October 1683 (see timeline) and may have appeared shortly after. Although it was published anonymously, it can confidently be attributed to Aphra Behn, 1640-1689.

This electronic version is based on the first edition. It retains the page divisions but not the line fall; cf. editorial guidelines. Signature marks have been included, but not the practice of repeating the first word of a page on the previous page. The typography has not been finalized.

The first edition, a duodecimo volume, is available on microfilm in Early English Books, 1641-1700, 82:10 and 1495:11; as well as in Women Advising Women: Part 5, 15:4. Originals are kept at Yale University, Oxford University, Library of Congress, and University of Texas; see facsimile of title page. Indexed by Wing B1740 and ESTC R12977. Behn subsequently wrote two sequels and there are several subsequent editions of the trilogy.

 1999 Francis Steen, Department of English, University of California at Santa Barbara
CogWeb Citation and Copyright Information

T O

THO. CONDON, Eq;

S I R,,

Aving when I was at Par la Spring, met with a little Book of Letters, call'd L' Intregue de Philander & Silvia, I had a particular fancy, beides my inclinations to tranlate 'em into Engli, which I have done as faithfully as I cou'd, only where he peaks of the ingratitude of Cario to the King, I have added a word or two to his Charaer that might render it a little more parallel to that of a modern

Prince in our Age; for the re I have kept cloe to the French.

The Letters art oft and amorous, and beides my eeem and obligation to you, I think it no where o proper to addres o much tender paion, as to a man whom Heaven and Nature has o well form'd both for dipencing and receiving of Love as your elf, you having all in your peron that is acceptable to women and deir'd by men, and when you pleae can make your elf as abolutely the joy of the one as the envy of

the other; to this is join'd a Vertue, uch as I believe the World has rarely produc'd in a Man of your Youth, Fortune and Advantages; you have all the power of the Debauchery of the Age, without the will, you early aw the Follies of the Town, and the greatnes of your mind didaining that common Road of living, un'd the foppi praice; your well-judging pride choe rather to be ingular, and ullenly retire, than heard with that noiie Crowd, that eternally fit out buines enough A3

to ock the Town with Wit and Lampoons, and the Stage with Fops, Fools and Cowards: if I might give my real judgment, you are above flattery, and one can almo ay no good or generous thing that one cannot juifie in you, no Vertue you cannot lay a claim to; many your modey hides from the World, and many more you have which envy will not confes; for that ju value you et upon your elf by unning the publick haunts, Cabals and Converations of the

Town, in spight of all your Wit and Goodness gives occasion for malice to revenge it self on you a thousand little ways; witness a late mistaken story of an Amour of yours, so often urg'd with heat, and told so much to your disadvantage, by those who have not the happiness of knowing your true principles of honour, your real good nature, your common justice, or sense of Humanity, to be such, as not to be capable of so base, silly and unmanly a practice, and so needless and poor a design: For my part, Sir, I A4

am vain and proud of the belief that I have the capacity and honour to know and underand your Soul, (did I not too well the ory alo) and am well aur'd it has not a grain, not a thought of o fooli a principle, o unneceary and dione: and I dare airm that ince the impoition of the late Popi Plot upon the Town, there has not o ridiculous and nonenical a Hiory pa for authentick with unthinking man; but you ou'd give 'em leave to rail, ince you have o va advantages above 'em.

Sir, I wou'd fain think that in the Charaer of Philander there is a great reemblance of your elf as to his Peron, and that part of his Soul that was poe with Love: he was a French Whigg, 'tis true, and a mo apparent Traytor, and there, I confes, the comparion fails extremely; for ure no man was ever o incorrigible o hardned in Torim as your elf, o fearles, o bold, o reolute, and confirm'd in Loyalty; in the height of all dangers and threatnings, in the bleed Age of wearing, and the hopeful Reign

of evidences, you undaunted held forth for the royal caue, with uch force of reaon and undeniable ene as thoe that were not converted, at lea were artled; and I all never forget the happy things I have heard you ay on that glorious ubje, with a zeal o fervent, yet o mode and gentle your argument, o olid, ju, o generous and o very hearty, as has begot you applaues and bleing round the board: a thouand inances, a Hiory I cou'd write of your dicoures and as of Loyalty; but that

even your Enemies allow, and I will pare it here, and only ay you are an honour and a credit to the Caue that's proud to own you.

In this you are far diant to my amorous Hero; but at lea for my own atifaion, and that I may believe Silvia truly happy, give me leave to fanie him uch a peron as your elf, and then I cannot fail of fanying him too, peaking at the feet of Silvia, pleading his right of love with the ame oftnes in his eyes and voice, as you can do when you deign to conquer; whene'er you

pread your nets for Game, you need but look abroad, fix and reolve, though you, unlike the forward youth of this Age, o nicely purue the quarry; it is not all, or any Game you fly at, not every Bird that comes to net can pleae you delicate appetite; though you are young as new deire, as beautiful as light, as amorous as a God, and wanton as a Cupid, that miles, and oots, and plays, and michiefs all his fond hours away: Pray Heaven you be not reerv'd like our Hero for ome Sier, 'tis an ill ign when o

much beauty paes daily unregarded, that your love is reerved to an end as malicious as that of our Philander's.

Perhaps you'll be out of humour, and cry, why the Devil did' thou dedicate the Letters of a Whigg to me? but to make you amends, Sir, pray take notice Silvia is true Tory in every part, if but to love a Whigg be not crime enough in your opinion to pall your appetite, and for which even her youth and beauty cannot make an attonement; commodity, which rarely fails in the

Trade of love, though never was o low a Market for beauty of both Sexes, yet he that's fortified and or'd like happy you, need never fear to find his price; for wit and good humour bear ill a rate, and have an intrinick value, while the other is rated by opinion and is at be but a curious piure, where one and the ame dull ilent Charms make up the day, while the other is always new, and (to ue your own expreion) is a Book where one turns over a new leaf every minute, and finds omething diverting,

in eternal new dicoveries; it elevates ones Spirits, charms the Soul, and improves ones ock; for every one has a longer date of hearing than eeing, and the eyes are ooner atiated than the ear; therefore do not depend too much on beauty, 'tis but a half conque you will make when you ew the Man only, you mu prove him too; give the oft Sex a ight of your fine Mind as well as your fine Peron; but you are a lazy Lover, and ly fallow for want of indury, you ru your ock of hoarded

love, while you gaze only and return a ingle igher; believe me, Friend, if you continue to fight at that ingle weapon, there will be no great ore of wounds given or taken on either ide; you mu peak and write if you wou'd be happy, ince you can do it o infinitely to purpoe; who can be happy without Love? for me, I never numbred thoe dull days among thoe of my life, in which I had not my Soul fill'd with that oft paion; to Love! why 'tis the only ecret in nature that reores Life, to all the felicities

and charms of living; and to me there eems no thing o range, as to ee people walk about, laugh, do the as of Life, and impertinently trouble the world without knowing any thing of that oft, that noble paion, or without o much as having an intreague, or an amuement, (as the French call it) with any dear e, no real Love or Cocettre; perhaps thee Letters may have the good fortune to roue and make you look into your heart, turn o're your ore and lavi out a little to divert the

toils of life; you us'd to ay that even the fatigues of love had a va pleaure in 'em; Philander was of your mind, and I (who advie you like that friend you have honour'd me with the title of) have even preerv'd all the torments of love, before dully living without it; live then and love, thou gay, thou glorious young man, whom Heav'n has ble with all the weets of life beides; live then and love; and what's an equal bleing, live and be belov'd, by ome dear Maid, as nobly born as Silvia, as witty

and as gay and oft as e, (to you, who know no other want, no other bleing) this is the mo advantageous one he can wi you who is,

Sir,

Your obliged and mo
humble Servant, &c.

The Argument.

N the time of the Rebeion of the true Proteant Hugonots in Paris, under the condu of the Prince of Condy, whom we wi ca Cario many iurious perons were drawn into the Aociation, among which there was one, whoe Quality and Fortune (join'd with h Youth and Beauty) rendred him more elevated in the eeem of the gay part of the World than mo of that Age. In h tender years (unhappily enough) he chanc'd to fa in Love with a Lady, whom we wi ca Mertilla, who had Charms enough to engage any heart, e hid a the advantages of Youth and Nature, a Shape exceent, a mo agreeable ature, not too ta and far from low, delicately proportion'd, her face a little inclined to round, oft, mooth

The Argument.

and white, her Eyes were blew, a little languiing, and fu of Love and Wit, a Mouth curiouy made, dimpled and fu of weetnes; Lips round, oft, plump and red; white teeth, firm and even; her Noe a little Roman; and which gave a noble grace to her lovely Face, her Hair light brown; a Neck and Boome delicately turn'd, white and riing, her Arms and Hands exaly ap'd; to th a ivacity of Youth ingaging, a Wit quick and flowing, a Humour gay, and an Air unreiably charming, and nothing was wanting to compleat the joys of the young Philander (o we ca our amarous Hero) but Mertilla's heart, which the iurious Cario had before poes'd; however, conulting her Honour and her Intere, and knowing a the arts as Women do to feign a tendernes, e yields to marry him:

The Argument.

while Philander, who corn'd to owe h happines to the commands of Parents, or to chaer for a Beauty, with her conent eals her away, and marries her; but ee how tranitory  a iolent paion, after being atiated, he ights the prize he had o dearly conquer'd; ome ay the change was occaion'd by her too iibly continued Love to Cario; but whatever 'twas, th was mo certain, Philander ca h Eyes upon a young Maid, Sier to Mertilla, a Beauty whoe early bloom prom'd wonders when come to perfeion; but I wi pare her Piure here, Philander in the foowing Epiles wi often enough preent it to your iew: He lov'd and langui'd long before he dur dicover h pain; her being Sier to h Wife, nobly born, and of undoubted fame, rendred h paion too criminal to hope for a return,

The Argument.

While the young lovely Silvia (o we a ca the noble Maid) ight out her hours in the ame, pain and languiment for Philander, and knew not that 'twas Love, ti e betraying it innocently to the o'erjoy'd Lover and Brother, who oon taught her to underand 'twas Love --- he perues it, e permits it, and at la yields; when being dicover'd in the criminal intrigue, e flies with him; he abolutely quits Mertilla, lives ome time in a Viage near Paris, ca'd St. Denice, with th betray'd unfortunate; ti being found out and like to be apprehended, (one for the Rape, the other for the flight) e  forc'd to Marry a Cadet, a creature of Philander's, to bear the name of Huband only to her, while Philander had the intire poeion of her, Soul and Body: Sti the League went forward, and a

The Argument.

things were ready for a War in Paris; but 't not my buines here to mix the rough relation of a War with the oft aairs of Love; let it uice, the Hugonots were defeated and the King got the day, and every Rebel lay at the mercy of h Sovereign; Philander was taken Prioner, made h ecape to a little Cottage near h own Palace, not far from Paris, writes to Silvia to come to him, which e does, and in pight of a the indury to reeize him he got away with Silvia.

After th flight, thee Letters were found in their Cabinets, at their houe at St. Denice, where they both liv'd together for the pace of a year, and they are as exaly as poible plac'd in the order they were ent, and were thoe uppoed to be written towards the latter end of their Amours.

[ 1 ]

L E T T E R S

To Silvia.

Hough I parted from you reolv'd to obey your impoible commands, yet know, oh charming Silvia! that after a Thouand conflis between Love and Honour, I found the God (too mighty for the Idol) reign abolute Monarch in my Soul, and oon bani't that Tyrant thence. That cruel Councellor that would ugge to you a Thouand fond Ar-

[ 2 ] guments to hinder my noble purute; Silvia came in view! her unreiable Idea! with all the charmes of blooming youth, with all the Attraions of Heavenly Beauty! looe, wanton, gay, all flowing her bright hair, and languiing her lovely eyes, her dres all negligent as when I aw her la, dicovering a Thouand raviing Graces, round white mall Brea's, delicate Neck, and riing Boome, heav'd with ighs e wou'd in vain conceal; and all beides, that nice fancy can imagine urpriing --- Oh I dare not think on, le my deires grow mad and raving; let it

[ 3 ] uice, oh adorable Silvia! I think and know enough to juifie that flame in me, which our weak alliance of Brother and Sier has render'd o criminal; but he that adores Silvia, ou'd do it at an uncommon rate; 'tis not enough to acrifice a ingle heart, to give you a imple Paion, your Beauty ou'd like it elf produce wondrous ees; it ou'd force all obligations, all laws, all tyes even of Natures elf: You my lovely Maid, were not born to be obtain'd by the dull methods of ordinary loving; and 'tis in vain to precribe me meaures; and B 2

[ 4 ] oh much more in vain to urge the nearnes of our Relation. What Kin my charming Silvia are you to me? No tyes of blood forbid my Paion; and what's a Ceremony impos'd on man by cuome? what is it to my Divine Silvia, that the Prie took my hand and gave it to your Sier? what Alliance can that create? why ou'd a trick devis'd by the wary old, only to make proviion for poerity, tye me to an eternal lavery. No, no my charming Maid, tis nonene all; let us (born for mightier joys) corn the dull beaten road, but let us love like

[ 5 ] the fir race of men, neare allied to God, promicuouly they lov'd, and poes', Father and Daughter, Brother and Sier met, and reap'd the joys of Love without controul, and counted it Religious coupling, and 'twas encourag'd too by Heav'n it elf: Therefore art not (too nice and lovely Maid) at adows of things that can but frighten fools. Put me not o with thee delays! rather ay you but diembl'd Love all this while, than now 'tis born, to let it dy again with a poor fright of nonene. A fit of Honour! a fantome imaginary and no A3

[ 6 ] more; no, no repreent me to your oul more favourably, think you ee me languiing at your feet, breathing out my la in ighs and kind reproaches, on the pityles Silvia; refle when I am dead, which will be the more aliing obje, the Gho (as you are pleas'd to call it) of your Murder'd Honour, or the pale and bleeding one of

The lo Philander.

I have liv'd a whole day and yet no Letter from my Silvia.

[ 7 ]

To Philander.

H why will you make me own (oh too importunate Philander!) with what regret I made you promie to preferr my Honour before your Love.

I confes with blues, which you might then ee kindling in my face, that I was not at all pleas'd with the Vows you made me, to endeavour to obey me, and I then even wit you wou'd obinately have deny'd obedience to my ju commands; have puru'd your criminal flame, and have left me raving

[ 8 ] on my undoing: For when you were gone, and I had leaure to look into my heart, alas! I found whether you oblig'd or not, whether Love, or Honour were prefer'd, I, unhappy I, was either way inevitably lo. Oh what pityles God, fond of his wondrous power, made us the objes of his Almighty vanity? oh why were we two made the fir preidents of his new found revenge? for ure no Brother ever lov'd a Sier with o criminal a flame before: At lea my unexperienc'd innocence ne're met with o fatal a ory: And 'tis in vain (my too charming

[ 9 ] Brother) to make me inenible of our Alliance; to perwade me I am a ranger to all but your eyes and Soul.

Alas your fatally kind Indury is all in vain. You grew up a Brother with me; the title was fixt in my heart, when I was too young to underand your ubtle diinions, and there it thriv'd and pread; and 'tis now too late to tranplant it, or alter its Native Property: Who can graft a flower on a contrary alk? The Roe will bear no Tulips, nor the Hyacinth the Poppy; no more will the Brother the name of

[ 10 ] Lover. O poil not the natural weetnes and innocence we now retain, by an endeavour fruitles and deruive; no, no Philander, dres your elf in what Charms you will, be powerfull as Love can make you in your oft argument, --- yet, oh yet you are my Brother ill, --- But why, oh cruel and eternal Powers, was not Philander my Lover before you dein'd him a Brother? or why being a Brother did you malicious and pightful powers deine him a Lover! oh take, either title from him, or from me a life which can render me no atifaion,

[ 11 ] ince your cruel laws permit it not for Philander, nor his to bles the now

Unfortunate Silvia.

Wedneday Morning.

To Philander.

Fter I had dimi my Page this morning with my Letter, I walk'd (fill'd with ad oft thoughts of my Brother Philander) into the Grove, and commanding Melinda to retire, who only attended me, I threw my elf down on that bank of gras where we la diputed

[ 12 ] the dear but fatal buines of our ouls: Where our prints (that invited me) ill remain on the pre greens: There with Ten Thouand ighs, with remembrance of the tender minutes we pa then, I drew your la Letter from my Boome; and often ki and often read it over, but on, who can conceive my Torment, when I came to that fatal part of it, where you ay you gave your hand to my ier, I found my oul agitated with a Thouand dierent paions, but all inupportable, all mad, and raving; ometimes I threw my elf with fury on the

[ 13 ] ground, and pre my panting heart to the cold earth, then rie in rage and tear my hair, and hardly pare that face that taught you fir to love: then fold my wretched Arms to keep down riing Sighs that almo rend my brea, I travere wiftly the concious Grove; with my diraed ow'ring eyes direed in vain to pityles Heaven, the lovely ilent ade favouring my complaints, I cry alowd, oh God! Philander's Married, the lovely charming thing for whom I langui is Married! --- That fatal word's enough, I need not add to whom. Married's enough to make me

[ 14 ] cure my Birth, my Youth, my Beauty, and my eyes that fir betray'd me to the undoing obje: Cure on the Charms you've flatter'd, for every fancy'd Grace has help'd my ruine on; now like flowers that wither uneen and unpoe in ades, they mu dy and be no more, they were to no end created ince Philander's Married: Married! oh fate, oh Hell, oh torture and confuion! tell me not 'tis to my Sier, that addition's needles, and vain: To make me eternally wretched there needs no more than that Philander's Married! than that the Prie

[ 15 ] gave your hand away from me; to another and not to me; tir'd out with life I need no other paport than this Repetition, Philander's Married! 'tis that alone is uicient to lay in her cold Tomb

The wretched and depairing

Silvia.

Wedneday night,
Bellfont.

[ 16 ]

To Silvia.

Twice la night, oh unfaithful and unloving Silvia! I ent my Page to the old place for Letters, but he return'd the obje of my rage, becaue without the lea remembrance from my fickle Maid: In this Torment, unable to hide my diorder, I uer'd my elf to be laid in bed; where the reles torments of the night exceeded thoe of the day, and are not even by the languier himelf to be expre; but the returning light brought a ort lumber on its Wings; which

[ 17 ] was interrupted by my attoneing Boy, who brought Two Letters from my adorable Silvia: He wak'd me from Dreams more agreeable than all my watchful hours cou'd bring, for they are all tortur'd --- And even the ofte mixt with a Thouand depairs, diiculties, and diappointments, but thee were all love, which gave a looe to joys undeny'd by Honour! and this way my charming Silvia you all be mine, in pight of all the Tyrannies of that cruel hinderer; Honour appears not my Silvia within the cloe drawn Curtains, in ades and gloomy light the

[ 18 ] fantm frights not, but when one beholds its blues, when its attended and adorn'd, and the Sun ees its fale Beauties; in ilent Groves and grotto's, dark Alcoves, and lonely recees, all its formalities are laid aide; 'twas then, and there, methought my Silvia yielded! with a faint ruggle and a oft reiance; I heard her broken ighs, her tender whipering Voice that trembling cry'd --- Oh can you be o cruel. --- Have you the heart --- Will you undo a Maid becaue e loves you? Oh will you ruine me becaue you may? --- My faithles --- My unkind, then igh't and yielded,

[ 19 ] and made me happier than a Triumphing God! but this was ill a Dream, I wak'd and igh't and found it vani all! But oh my Silvia, your Letters were ubantial pleaure, and pardon your Adorer if he tell you, even the diorder you expres, is infinitly dear to him, ince he knows it all the ees of Love, Love my oul! which you in vain oppoe; purue it, Dear, and call it not undoing, or ele explain your fear, and tell me what your oft, your trembling heart gives that cruel title to? is it undoing to Love? and love the Man you ay has Youth

[ 20 ] and Beauty to juifie that Love? a man that adores you with o ubmiive and perfe a reignation; a man that did not only Love fir; but is reolv'd to dy in that agreeable flame; in my Creation I was form'd for Love, and dein'd for my Silvia, and e for her Philander: And all we, can we diappoint our Fate, no my oft Charmer, our ouls were toucht with the ame afts of Love before they had a being in our Bodies, and can we contradi Divine Decrees? Or is 't undoing, Dear, to bles Philander with what you mu ome time or other

[ 21 ] acrifice to ome hated loath'd obje, (for Silvia can never love again) and are thoe Treaures for the dull conjugal Lover to rifle? was the beauty of Divine ape created for the cold Matrimonial imbrace? and all the eternal joys that Silvia can dipence, be return'd by the clumey Huband's careles forc'd inipid duty's; oh my Silvia all a Huband (whoe inenibility will call thoe Raptures of joy! thoe Heavenly Blies! the drudgery of life) all he I ay receive 'em? While your Philander with the very thought of the exces of pleaure, the lea

[ 22 ] poeion wou'd aord, faints o're the Paper that brings you here his eternal Vows.

Oh where my Silvia ly's the undoing then? my Quality and Fortune are of the highe rank among men. My Youth gay and fond, my Soul all oft, all Love; and all Silvia's! I adore her, I langui for her, I am ick of Love and ick of Life, till e yields e is all mine!

You ay my Silvia I am Married, and there my happynes is Shipwreck'd; but Silvia I deny it, and will not have you think it; no, my Soul was Married to yours in its fir Creation; and only

[ 23 ] Silvia is the Wife of my acred, my everlaing Vows; of my olemn coniderate thought, of my ripen'd Judgment, my mature coniderations. The re are all repented and forgot, like the hay folly's of uneady Youth, like Vows breath'd in Anger, and dy Perjur'd as oon as vented, and unregarded either of Heav'n or Man. Oh why ou'd my Soul uer for ever, why eternal pain for the unheedy ort-liv'd in of my unwilling Lips; beides, this fatal thing call'd Wife, this unlucky Sier, this Mertilla, this op to all my Heav'n, that breeds uch

[ 24 ] breeds uch fatal dierences in our oft Aairs, this Mertilla I ay, fir broke her Marriage Vows to me; I blame her not, nor is it reaonable I ou'd, e aw the young Ceario, and Lov'd him. Ceario, whom the envying World in pight of prejudice mu own, has unreiable Charms, that Godlike form, that weetnes in his face, that oftnes in his Eyes and delicate Mouth; and every Beauty beides that Women doat on and Men envy: That lovely compoition of Man and Angel! with the addition of his eternal Youth and Illurious Birth, was form'd

[ 25 ] By Heav'n and Nature for univeral Conque! and who can love the charming Hero at a cheaper rate than being undone: And e that wou'd not venture Fame, Honour, and a Marriage Vow for the Glory of the young Ceario's heart, merits not the noble Viim; oh! wou'd I cou'd ay o much for the young Philander, who wou'd run a Thouand times more hazards of life and Fortune for the Adorable Silvia, than that amorous Hero ever did for Mertilla, though from that Prince I learn't ome of my diguies for my thefts of Love, for he like C

[ 26 ] Jove courted in everal apes, I aw 'em all, and uer'd the deluion to pas upon me; for I had een the lovely Silvia? yes I had een her, and I lov'd her too: But Honour kept me yet Maer of my Vows; but when I knew her fale, when I was once confirm'd, --- When by my own Soul I found the diembl'd Paion of her's, when e cou'd no longer hide the blues or the palenes that eiz'd at the approaches of my diorder'd Rival, when I aw Love dancing in her eyes and her fale heart beat with nimble motions, and oft trembling eize every Limb,

[ 27 ] at the approach or touch of the Royal Lover, then I thought my elf no longer oblig'd to conceal my flame for Silvia; nay e're I broke ilence, e're I dicover'd the hidden Treaure of my heart, I made her falood plainer yet: Even the time and place of the dear aignations I dicover'd; certainty! happy certainty! broke the dull heavy chain, and I with joy ubmitted to my ameful freedome, and cares'd my generous Rival, nay and by Heav'n I lov'd him for't, pleas'd at the reemblance of our Souls, for we were ecret Lovers both, but more pleas'd C2

[ 28 ] that he Lov'd Mertilla, for that made way to my paion for the adorable Silvia!

Let the dull hot-brain'd jealous fool upbraid me with cold Patience: Let the fond Coxcomb whoe Honour depends on the frail Marriage Vow, reproach me, or tell me that my Reputation depends on the feeble conancy of a Wife, perwade me 'tis Honour to fight for an unretrivable and unvalu'd Prize, and that becaue my Rival has taken leave to Cuckold me, I all give him leave to kill me too: Unreaonable nonene grown to cuome.

[ 29 ] No by Heav'n! I had rather Mertilla ou'd be fale, (as e is) than wi and langui for the happy occaion, the Sin's the ame, only the A's more generous: Believe me my Silvia, we have all fale notions of Vertue and Honour, and urely this was taken up by ome deparing Huband in Love with a fair lilting Wife, and then I Pardon him: I ou'd have done as much: for only e that has my Soul, can only ingage my Sword, e that I love, and my elf only commands and keeps my ock of Honour: For Silvia! the Charming the diraing Silvia! I cou'd ight for a C3

[ 30 ] glance or mile, expoe my heart for her dearer fame, and wi no recompence, but breathing out my la gap into her oft white delicate boome. But for a Wife! that ranger to my Soul, and whom we Wed for Intere and neceity, --- A Wife, a light looe unregarding Property, who for a momentary Apetite will expoe her fame, without the noble end of loving on, e that will abue my Bed, and yet return again to the loath'd conjugal imbrace, back to the Armes o hated, that even rong fancy of the abent Youth belov'd, cannot o

[ 31 ] much as render upportable. Cure on her, and yet e kies, fawnes and diembles on, hangs on his Neck, and makes the Sot believe: --- Damn her, Brute; i'll whiler o, and let her down the Wind, as Othella ays. No, I adore the Wife, that when the heart is gone, boldly and nobles perues the Conqueror, and generouly owns the Whore, --- Not poorly adds the nautious in of Jilting to't: That I cou'd have born, at lea commended; but this can never Pardon; at wor then the world had aid her Paion had undone her, e lov'd, and Love at wor is C4

[ 32 ] pity. No, no Mertilla, I forgive your Love, but never can your poor diimulation. One drives you but from the heart you value not, but t'other to my eternal contempt. One deprives me but of thee Mertilla; but t'other intitles me to a Beauty more urpriing, renders thee no part of me; and o leaves the Lover free to Silvia, without the Brother.

Thus my excellent Maid I have ent you the ene and truth of my Soul in an aair you have often hinted to me, and I take no pleaure to remember, I hope you will at lea think my averion

[ 33 ] reaonable, and that being thus undiputably freed from all obligations to Mertilla as a Huband, I may be permitted to lay claim to Silvia as a Lover, and marry my elf more eeually by my everlaing Vows, than the Prie by his common method cou'd do to any other Woman les belov'd, there being no other way at preent left by Heav'n, to render me Silvia's

Eternal happy Lover and

Philander.

I dy to ee you. C5

[ 34 ]

To Silvia.

When I had eal'd the inclos'd, Brilljard told me you were this Morning come from Belfont, and with infinite impatience have expeed eeing you here; which defer'd my ending this to the old place; and I am o vain (oh Adorable Silvia!) as to believe my fancy'd ilence has given you diquiers; but ure my Silvia cou'd not charge me with negle, no e knows my Soul, and lays it all on chance, or ome range accident, e knows no buines cou'd divert me. No

[ 35 ] were the Nation inking, the great Senate of the world confounded, our Glorious Deigns betray'd and ruin'd, and the va City all in flame; like Nero unconcern'd I'd ing my everlaing Song of Love to Silvia; which no time or Fortune all untune. I know my Soul and all its rength and how it's fortify'd, the charming Idea of my young Silvia will for ever remain there, the original may fade, time may render it les fair, les blooming in my Arms, but never in my Soul, I all find thee there the ame gay glorious creature that fir urpris'd and inlav'd me, believe

[ 36 ] me Raviing Maid I all. Why then, oh why my cruel Silvia! are my joys delay'd? why am I by your rigorous commands kept from the ight of my Heav'n, my eternal blis? an Age my fair Tormentor's pa, Four tedious live long days are number'd o're, ince I beheld the obje of my laing Vows, my eternal wies, how can you think, oh unreaonable Silvia! that I cou'd live o long without you, and yet I am alive I find it by my pain, by torments of fears and jealouies inupportable, I langui and go downward to the earth, where you will ortly

[ 37 ] ee me lay'd without your recalling mercy; 'tis true I move about this unregarded world, appear every day in the great Senate-Houe at Clubs, Caballs, and private conultations (for Silvia knows all the buines of my Soul, even its politicks of State as well as Love) I ay I appear indeed, and give my Voice in publick buines, but oh my Heart more kindly is imploy'd, that and my thoughts are Silvia's! Ten Thouand times a day I breath that name, my buie fingers are eternally tracing out thoe Six myick Letters, a Thouand ways on every thing I touch,

[ 38 ] form words, and make 'em peak a Thouand things, and all are Silvia ill; my melancholy change is evident to all that ee me, which they interpret many miaken ways, our Party fancy I repent my League with 'em, and doubting I'le betray the Caue, grow jealous of me, till by new Oaths, new Arguments I confirm 'em, then they mile all; and cry I am in Love! and this they would believe, but that they ee all Women that I meet or convere with are indierent to me, and o can fix it no where, for none can gues it Silvia,

[ 39 ] thus while I dare not tell my Soul, no not even to Ceario, the ifled flame burns inward and torments me o, that (unlike the thing I was) I fear Silvia will loe her Love, and Lover too; for thoe few Charmes e aid I had, will fade, and this fatal diance will deroy both Soul and Body too, my very reaon will abandon me, and I all rave to ee thee; reore me, oh reore me then to Bellfont, happy Bellfont ill ble with Silvia's preence! permit me, oh permit me into thoe acred Shades, where I have been o often (too innocently)

[ 40 ] ble! let me urvey again the dear charaers of Silvia on the mooth Birch; oh when all I it beneath thoe Boughs, gazing on the young Goddes of the Grove, hearing her igh for Love; touching her glowing mall white hands, beholding her killing eyes langui, and her Charming boome rie and fall with ort-breath'd uncertain breath; breath as oft and weet as the reoring breeze that glides or'e the newblown flowers: But oh what is it! what Heav'n of Perfumes, when it inclines to the ravit Philander, and whipers

[ 41 ] Love, it dares not name aloud!

What power witholds me then from ruing on thee, from preing thee with Kies; folding thee in my tranported Armes, and following all the diates of Love without repe of Awe. What is it oh my Silvia can detain a Love o violent and raving, and o wild; admit me acred Maid, admit me again to thoe oft delights; that I may find if poible, what Devinity (envious of my blis) checks my eager joys; my raging flame; while you too make an experiment

[ 42 ] (worth the Tryal) what 'tis makes Silvia deny her

Impatient Adorer

Philander.

My Page is Ill, and I am oblig'd to tru Brilljard with thee to the dear Cottage of their Rendevouz, end me your opinion of his fidelity: and ah! remember I dy to ee you.

[ 43 ]

To Philander.

Not yet? --- Not yet? oh ye dull tedious Hours when will you glide away? and bring that happy moment on, in which I all at lea hear from my Philander; Eight and Forty teadious ones are pa, and I am here forgotten ill; forlorn, impatient, reles every where; not one of all your little moments (ye undiverting hours) can aord me repoe; I drag ye on, a heavy Load; I count ye all; and bles ye when you'r gone; but tremble at the approaching

[ 44 ] ones, and with a dread expe you; and nothing will divert me now, my Couch is tireome, and my Glas is vain; my Books are dull, and converation inupportable, the Grove aords me no relief; nor even thoe Birds to whom I have o often breath'd Philander's name, they ing it on their perching Boughs; no nor the reviewing of his dear Letters, can bring me any eae. Oh what face's reerv'd for me; for thus I cannot live; nor urely thus I all not dy. Perhaps Philander's making a tryal of Vertue by this ilence. Purue it, call up

[ 45 ] all your reaon my lovely Brother to your aid, let us be wie and ilent, let us try what that will do towards the cure of this too infeious flame; let us, oh let us my Brother it down here, and puree the crime of Loving on no further. Call me Sier --- Swear I am o, and nothing but your Sier: and forbear, oh forbear my charming Brother to purue me farther with your oft bewitching Paion, let me alone, let me be ruin'd with Honour if I mu be ruin'd --- For oh! 'twere much happyer I were no more than that I ou'd be more then Philander's

[ 36 ] Sier; or he than Silvia's Brother: Oh let me ever call you by that cold name, till that of Lover be forgotten: --- Ha! --- Methinks on the uddain a fit of Vertue informs my Soul, and bids me ak you for what in of mine my Charming Brother you ill perue a Maid that cannot fly: Ungenerous and unkind! why did you take advantage of thoe Freedoms I gave you as a Brother, I mil'd on you, and ometimes ki you too; --- But for my Siers ake. I play'd with you, uer'd your Hands and Lips to wander were I dare not now; all which I thought a

[ 47 ] Sier might allow a Brother and knew not all the while the Treachery of Love: Oh none, but under that intimate title of a Brother, cou'd have had the opportunity to have ruin'd me, that, that betray'd me: I play'd away my Heart at a Game I did not underand; nor knew I when 'twas lo, by degrees o ubtil, and an authority o lawful, you won me out of all. Nay then too, even when all was lo, I wou'd not think it Love. I wonder'd what my leeples Nights, my waking eternal thoughts, and lumbring Viions of my lovely Brother meant, I wonder'd

[ 48 ] why my Soul was continually fill'd with wies and new deires; and ill concluded 'twas for my Sier all: till I dicover'd the cheat by jealouie, for when my Sier hung upon your neck; ki and carre that face that I ador'd, oh how I found my colour change, my Limbs all trembled, and my blood inrag'd, and I cou'd carce forbear reproaching you: Or crying out, Oh why this fondnes Brother. Sometimes you perceiv'd my concern, at which you'd mile, for you who had been before in Love, (a cure upon the fatal time) cou'd gues at my diorder;

[ 49 ] then wou'd you turn the wanton play on me: When ullen with my jealouie and the caue, I fly your oft imbrace, yet wi you wou'd purue and overtake me, which you ne're fail'd to do, where after a kind quarrel all was pardon'd, and all was well again: While the poor injur'd innocent my Sier, made her elf port at our deluive Wars: Still I was ignorant, till you in a mo fatal hour inform'd me I was a Lover. Thus was it with my heart in thoe ble days of innocence; thus it was won and lo; nor can all my Stars in Heaven prevent, I doubt prevent D

[ 50 ] my ruine. Now you are ure of the fatal conque, you corn the trifling Glory, you are ilent now; oh I am inevitably lo, or with you or without you: And I find by this little ilence and abence of yours, that 'tis mo certain I mu either dy or be Philander's.

Silvia.

If Dorillus come not with a Letter, or that my Page whom I have ent to his Cottage for one bring it not, I cannot upport my Life, for oh Philander I have a Thouand wild diraing fears, knowing how you are involv'd in the Intere you have epous'd with the young Cario: how danger urrounds you, how your life and

[ 51 ] Glory depends on the frail ecreie of Villains and Rebels: Oh give me leave to fear eternally your fame and life, if not your Love; if Silvia cou'd command, Philander ou'd be Loyal as he's Noble; and what generous Maid wou'd not upe his Vows to a Mires who breaks 'em with his Prince and Maer, Heav'n preerve you and your Glory.

To Philander.

Another Night oh Heav'ns and yet no Letter come! Where are you my Philander? What happy place contains you! if in Heav'n, why do's not ome poing Angel bid me ha after you? if on

[ 52 ] Earth, why do's not ome little God of Love bring the grateful tidings on his painted Wings! if ick, why does not my own fond heart by ympathy inform me, but that's all aive, vigorous, wiing, impatient of delaying ilence, and buie in imagination; if you are fale, if you have forgotten your poor believing and diraed Silvia, why do's not that kind Tyrant Death, that meager welcome Viion of the deparing, old, and wretched, approach in dead of Night, approach my reles Bed, and tole the dimal tidings in my frighted lining ears, aud rike me for ever

[ 53 ] ilent, lay me forever quiet, lo to the world, lo to my faithles Charmer: But if a ene of Honour in you, has made you reolve to prefer mine before your Love, made you take up a noble fatal reolution never to tell me more of your Paion, this were a Trial I fear my fond heart wants courage to bear; or is't a trick, a cold fit only aum'd to try how much I Love you? I have no Arts Heav'n knows, no guile or double meaning in my oul, 'tis all plain native implicity, fearful and timerous as Children in the Night, trembling as Doves puru'd; born oft by Nature, D3

[ 54 ] and made tender by Love; what, oh! what will become of me then! Yet wou'd I were confirm'd in all my fears: For as I am my condition is yet more deplorable, for I'm in doubt, and doubt is the wor torment of the mind: Oh Philander be mercyful, and let me know the wor, do not be cruel while you kill, do it with pity to the wretched Silvia, oh let me quickly know whether you are at all, or are the mo impatient and unfortunate

Silvia's.

I raue, I dy for
ome Relief.

[ 55 ]

To Philander.

As I was going to end away this enclos'd: Dorillus came with Two Letters; oh you cannot think Philander with how much reaon you call me fickle Maid, for cou'd you but imagine how I am tormentingly divided, how unreolv'd between violent Love, and cruel Honour: You would ay 'twere impoible to fix me any where; or be the ame thing for a moment together, There is not aort hour pa through the wift hand of

[ 56 ] time, ince I was all depairing raging Love, jealous, fearful, and impatient; and now, now that your fond Letters have dipers'd thoe Damons, thoe tormenting Councellors, and given a little repit, a little tranquility to my Soul; like States luxurious grown with eae, it ungratefully rebells again the Soveraign power that made it great and happy; and now that Traytor Honour heads the mutiners within; Honour whom my late mighty fears had almo famit and brought to nothing, warm'd and reviv'd by thy new proteed flame, makes War

[ 57 ] again Almighty Love! and I, who but now nobly reolved for Love! by an inconancy natural to my Sex, or rather my fears, am turn'd over to Honour's ide: So the depairing man ands on the Rivers Bank, deign'd to plunge into the rapid ream, till coward fear eizing his timerous oul, he views around once more the flow'ry Plains, and looks with wiing eyes back to the Groves, then ighing ops, and cry's I was too ra, forakes the dangerous ore, and has away. Thus indicreet was I; was all for Love, fond and undoing Love! but when I aw D5

[ 58 ] it with full Tide flow in upon me, one glance of Glorious Honour, makes me again retreat. I will --- I am reolv'd --- And mu be brave! I can't forget I'm Daughter to the great Beralti, and Sier to Mertilla, a yet unpotted Maid, fit to produce a race of Glorious Hero's! and can Philander's Love et no higher value on me than bae poor proitution! is that the price of his heart? --- Oh how I hate thee now! or wou'd to Heav'n I cou'd. --- Tell me not thou charming Beguiler, that Mertilla was to blame, was it a fault in her, and will it be vertue in me; and can I

[ 59 ] believe the crime that made her loe your heart, will make me Mires of it: No, if by any aion of her's, the noble Houe of the Beralti be dionour'd, by all the Aions of my Life it all receive Additions of Luer and Glory! nor will I think Mertilla's vertue leen'd for your miaken opinion of it, and e may be as much in vain puru'd perhaps, by the Prince Cario as Silvia all be by the young Philander; the envying world talks loud 'tis true, but oh if all were true that buie babler ays, what Lady has her fame? What Huband is not Cuckold? Nay and a

[ 60 ] friend to him that made him o; and 'tis in vain my too ubtil Brother, you think to build the trophies of your Conques on the ruine of both Mertilla's fame and mine; oh how dear wou'd your inglorious paion co the great unfortunate houe of the Beralti, while you poorly ruine the fame of Mertilla to make way to the heart of Silvia; Remember, oh remember once your Paion was as violent for Mertilla, and all the Vows, Oaths, proteations, tears and Prayers you make and pay at my feet, are but the faint repetitions, the feeble eccho's of what you

[ 61 ] igh't out at hers. Nay like young Paris, fled with the fair Prize; your fond, your eager Paion made it a Rape: Oh perfidious! --- Let me not call it back to my remembrance. --- Oh let me dy rather than call to mind a time o fatal; when the lovely fale Philander vow'd his heart, his faithles heart away to any Maid but Silvia: --- Oh let it not be poible for me to imagine his dear Arms ever grap'd any body with joy but --- Silvia's! --- And yet they did, with tranports of Love! yes, yes you lov'd! by Heav'n you lov'd this fale, this perfidious Mertilla; for

[ 62 ] fale e is; you lov'd her, and I'll have it o; nor all the Sier in me plead her Caue. She's fale beyond all Pardon; for you are beautiful as Heav'n it elf can render you, a ape exaly form'd, not too low nor too tall, but made to beget oft deire and everlaing wies in all that look on you; but your face! your lovely face! inclining to round, large piercing languiing black eyes, delicate proportion'd Noe, charming dimpl'd Mouth, plump red Lips, inviting and welling white Teeth, mall and even, fine complexion, and a beautiful

[ 63 ] turn! all which you had an Art to order in o ingaging a manner that it charm'd all the beholders, both Sexes were undone with looking on you; and I have heard a witty man of your Party wear your face gain'd more to the League and Aociation than the Caue, and has cur a Thouand times the fale Mertilla for preferring Cario (les beautiful) to the adorable Philander; to add to this, Heav'n! how you poke, when e're you poke of Love! in that you far urpa the young Cario! as young as he, almo as great and Glorious; Oh

[ 64 ] perfidious Mertilla. Oh fale, oh fooli and ingrate! --- that you abandon'd her was ju, e was not worth retaining in your heart, nor cou'd be worth defending with your Sword; --- But grant her fale; Oh Philander! how does her perfidy intitle you to me? fale as e is, you ill are Married to her; inconant as e is, e's ill your Wife; and no breach of the Nuptial Vow can unty the fatal knot; and that's a Myery to common ene; ure e was Born for michief, and Fortune when e gave her

[ 65 ] you, deign'd the ruine of us all; but mo particularly

The Unfortunate

Silvia.

[ 66 ]

To Silvia.

My Souls eternal joy, my Silvia! what have you done, and oh how dur you knowing my fond Heart try it with o fatal a roke; what means this evere Letter? and why o eagerly at this time o'th' day, is Mertilla's Vertue o defended; is it a queion now whether e is fale or not? oh poor, oh frivolous excue! you love me not, by all that's good you love me not! to try your power you have flatter'd and feign'd, oh Woman! fale Charming Woman! you have

[ 67 ] undone me! I rave, and all commit uch extravagance that will ruine both: I mu upbraid you, fickle and inconant, I mu, and this diance will not erve, 'tis too great, my reproaches loe their force, I bur with reentment with injur'd Love, and you are either the mo faithles of your Sex, or the mo malicious and tormenting: Oh I am pa tricks my Silvia, your little arts might do well in a beginning flame; but to a ettled Fire that is arriv'd to the highe degree, it does but damp its fiercenes, and inead of drawing me on, wou'd

[ 68 ] leen my eeem, if any uch deceit were capable to harbour in the Heart of Silvia, but e is all Divine, and I am miaken in the meaning of what e ay's: Oh my adorable think no more on that dull fale thing a Wife, let her be banit thy thoughts, as e is my Soul; let her never appear though but in a Dream to fright our olid joys, our true happines; no, let us look forward to Pleaures va and unconfin'd, to coming tranports: and leave all behind us that contributes not to that Heav'n of Blis: Remember, oh Silvia, that five tedious days are

[ 69 ] pa ince I igh't at your dear feet; and five days to a Man o madly in Love as your Philander, is a tedious Age; 'tis now ix a Clock in the Morning, Brilljard will be with you by Eight, and by Ten I may have your permiion to ee you, and then I need not ay how oon I will preent my elf before you, at Bellfont; for Heaven's ake my eternal Bleing, if you deign me this happines, contrive it o, that I may ee no body that belongs to Bellfont, but the fair, the lovely Silvia; for I mu be more moments with you, than will be convenient to be taken notice of, le

[ 70 ] they upe our buines to be Love, and that dicovery, yet, may ruine us. Oh I will delay no longer, my Soul's impatient to ee you, I cannot live another Night without it, I dy, by Heav'n! I langui for the appointed hour; you will believe when you ee my languid Face and dying Eyes, how much and great a uerer in Love I am.

My Soul's Delight, You may perhaps deny me from your fear, but oh! do not, though I ak a mighty bleing; Silvia's Company, alone, ilent, and perhaps by Dark, --- Oh though I faint

[ 71 ] with the thought only of o ble an opportunity, yet you all ecure me, by what Vows, what imprecations or ty's you pleae; bind my buie hands; blind my ravi't eyes; command my Tongue, do what you will; but let me hear your Angels Voice, and have the tranported joy of throwing my elf at your feet; and if you pleae give me leave (a man condemn'd eternally to Love) to plead a little for my Life and paion; let me remove your fears, and though that mighty Tak never make me intirely happy,

[ 72 ] at lea 'twill be a great atifaion to me to know, that 'tis not through my own fault that I am the

Mo Wretched

Philander.

I have order'd Brilljard to wait your Commands at Dorillus his Cottage, that he may not be een at Bellfont: reolve to ee me to Night, or I all come without order and injure both: My dear Damn'd Wife is dipos'd of at a Ball Cario makes to Night; the opportunity will be luckey, not that I fear her jealouie, but the ees of it.

[ 73 ]

To Philander.

I tremble with the apprehenion of what you ak, how all I comply with your fond deires? My Soul bodes ome dire ee of this bold enterprie, for I mu own (and blu while I do own it) that my Soul yields obedience to your oft reque, and even whil I read your Letter, was diverted with the contrivance of eeing you: For though as my Brother you have all the freedoms imaginable at Bellfont to entertain and walk with me, yet 'twould be diicult

[ 74 ] and prejudical to my Honour, to receive you alone any where without my Sier: and caue a upicion, which all about me now are very far from conceiving, except Melinda my faithful confident, and too fatal Councellor: and but for this fear, I know my charming Brother, three little Leagues ou'd not five long days eparate Philander from his Silvia. But my lovely Brother, ince you beg it o earnely, and my heart conents o eaily, I mu pronounce my own Doom and ay, Come my Philander, whither Love and oft deire invites

[ 75 ] you, and take this direion in the management of this mighty aair; I wou'd have you as oon as this comes to your hands, to ha to Dorillus's Cottage, without your Equipage, only Brilljard, whom I believe you may tru both from his own dicretion and your va bounty's to him; wait there till you receive my commands: and I will retire betimes to my Apartment pretending not to be well, and as oon as the Evenings obcurity will permit, Melinda all let you in at the Garden Gate that is next the Grove, uneen and unupeed, E2

[ 76 ] but oh thou powerful Charmer have a care, I tru you with my all: my dear, dear, my precious Honour, guard it well, for oh I fear my forces are too weak to and your ock of Beauties; you have Charms enough to juify my yielding, but yet by Heav'n I wou'd not for an Empire: but what's dull Empire to Almighty Love! the God ubdues the Monarch! 'tis to your rength I tru, for I am a feeble Woman, a Virgin quite diarm'd by two fair eyes, an Angels Voice and form, but yet I'll dy before I'll yield my Honour; no

[ 77 ] though our unhappy Family have met reproach from the imagin'd levity of my Sier; 'tis I'll redeem the bleeding Honour of our Family, and my great Parents Vertues all ine in me; I know it, for if it paes this Te, if I can and this Temptation, I'm proof again all the World; but I conjure you aid me if I need it: If I incline but in a Languiing look, if but a wi appear in my eyes, or I betray conent but in a Sigh; take not, oh take not the opportunity, le when you've done I grow raging mad, and dicover all in the wild fit; oh E3

[ 78 ] who wou'd venture on an enemy with uch unequal force; what hardy fool wou'd hazard all at Sea that ees the riing Storm come rouling on; who but fond Woman, giddy heedles Woman! wou'd thus expoe her Vertue to Temptation, I ee, I know my danger, yet I mu permit it; Love oft bewitching Love will have it o, that cannot deny what my feebler Honour forbids; and though I tremble with fear, yet Love ugges, 'twill be an Age to Night; I long for my undoing; for oh I cannot and the batteries of your eyes and tongue,

[ 79 ] thee fears, thee conflis I have a Thouand times a day, 'tis pitiful ometimes to ee me, on one hand a Thouand Cupids all gay and miling preent Philander with all the Beauties of his ex, with all the oftnes in his looks and Language thoe Gods of Love can inpire, with all the Charms of youth adorn'd, bewitching all, and all tranporting; on the other hand, a poor lo Virgin languiing and undone; ighing her willing rape to the deaf ades and Fountains; filling the Woods with cry's, welling the Murmering Rivolets E4

[ 80 ] with tears, her noble Parents with a generous Rage reviling her, and her befray'd Sier loading her bow'd head with cures and reproaches; and all about her looking forlorn and ad: Judg, oh Judg my adorable Brother, of the vanes of my courage and paion, when even this deplorable prope cannot defend me from the reolution of giving you admittance into my Apartment this Night, nor all ever drive you from the Soul of your

Silvia.

[ 81 ]

To Silvia.

I have obey'd my Silvia's dear commands, and the diates of my own impatient Soul, as oon as I receiv'd 'em, I immediately took Hore for Bellfont, though I knew I ou'd not ee my Adorable Silvia till Eight or Nine at Night; but oh 'tis wondrous pleaure to be o much more near my eternal joy; I wait at Dorillus his Cottage the tedious approaching Night that mu elter me in its kind ades, and condu me to a pleaure I faint but with imagining; 'tis now my Lovely

[ 82 ] Charmer Three a Clock, and oh how many tedious hours I am to langui here before the bleed one arrive; I know you Love, my Silvia, and therefore mu gues at ome part of my torment, which yet is mixt with a certain trembling joy not to be imagin'd by any but Silvia, who urely loves Philander, if there be truth in Beauty, faith in Youth, e urely loves him much, and much more above her Sex e's capable of Love; by how much more her Soul's form'd of a ofter and more delicate compoition, by how much more her Wits refin'd and elevated above her

[ 83 ] duller Sex, and by how much more e is oblig'd if Paion can claim Paion in return, ure no Beauty was ever o much indebted to a lave, as Silvia to Philander, none ever Lov'd like me! Judg then my pains of Love, my Joys, my fears, my impatience, and deires, and call me to your acred preence with all the peed of Love; and as oon as 'tis duki, imagine me in the Meadow behind the Grove, 'till when think me imploy'd in eternal thoughts of Silvia; reles, and talking to the Trees of Silvia, ighing her charming Name, circling with folded Arms my panting

[ 84 ] heart, (that beats and trembles the more, the nearer it approaches the happy Bellfont) and fortifying the feeble trembler again a ight too Raviing and urpriing, I fear to be uain'd with Life; but if I faint in Silvia's Arms, it will be happyer far than all the Glories of Life without her.

Send my Angel omething from you to make the Hours les tedious, conider me, Love me, and be as impatient as I; that you may the ooner find at your feet your everlaing Lover

Philander.

From Dorillus's Cottage.

[ 85 ]

To Philander.

I have at la recover'd ene enough to tell you, I have receiv'd your Letter by Dorillus, and which had like to have been dicover'd, for he prudently enough put it under the Strawbery's he brought me in a Baket, fearing he ou'd get no other opportunity to have given it me; and my Mother eeing 'em look o fair and fre, natcht the Baket with a greedines I have not een in her before; while e was calling to her Page for a Porcellane Di to put 'em out, Dorillus had opportunity

[ 86 ] to hint to me what lay at the bottom; Heaven's had you een my diorder and confuion! what ou'd I do; Love had not one invention in ore, and here it was that all the ubtilty of Women abandon'd me. Oh Heaven's how cold and pale I grew, left the mo important buines of my Life ou'd be betray'd and ruin'd; but not to terrify you longer with fears of my danger, the Di came, and out the Strawberries were powr'd, and the Baket thrown, aide on the Bank where my Mother at, (for we were in the Garden when we met accidentally

[ 87 ] Dorillus fir with the Baket) there were ome Leaves of Fern put at the bottom between the Baket and Letter, which by good fortune came not out with the Strawberries, and after a Minute or two I took up the Baket and walking carelely up and down the Garden, Gather'd here and there a flower, Pinks and Jeamine, and filling my Baket at down again till my Mother had eat her fill of the Fruit, and gave me an opportunity to retire to my apartment, where opening the Letter, and finding you o near and waiting to ee me, I had

[ 88 ] certainly unk down on the floor had not Melinda upported me, who was only by, omething o new, and till now o range, eiz'd me at the thought of o ecret an interview, that I lo all my enes, and Life wholly departing, I reed on Melinda without breath or motion, the violent ees of Love and Honour, the impetuous meeting tides of the extreams of joy and fear, ruing on too uddainly, over-whelm'd my enes; and 'twas a pretty while before I recover'd rength to get to my Cabinet, where a econd time I open'd your Letter, and read

[ 89 ] it again with a Thouand changes of Countenance, my whole mas of Blood was in that moment o dicompos'd, that I chang'd from Ague to Feaver, everal times in a Minute; oh what will all this bring me to? and where will the raging fit end? I dy with that thought, my guilty pen lackens in my trembling hand, and I Langui and fall over the unimploy'd Paper; --- Oh help me ome Divinity --- Or if you did, --- I fear I ou'd be angry! Oh Philander! a Thouand Paions and diraed thoughts crowd to get out, and make their oft complaints

[ 60 ] to thee, but oh they loe themelves with Mixing; they are blended in a confuion together, and Love nor Art can divide 'em, to deal 'em out in order; ometimes I wou'd tell you of my Joy at your Arrival, and my unpeakable tranports at the thought of eeing you o oon, that I all hear your charming Voice, and find you at my feet making oft Vows a new, with all the Paion of an impatient Lover, with all the eloquence that ighs and Cryes and tears from thoe lovely eyes can expres; and ure that's enough to conquer any where; and to which,

[ 91 ] coure vulgar words are dull: The Rhetorick of Love is half-breath'd, interrupted words, languiing Eyes, flattering Speeches, broken Sighs, preing the hand, and falling Tears: Ah how do they not perwade; how do they not charm and conquer; 'twas thus with thee oft eaie Arts, that Silvia fir was won! for ure no Arts of peaking cou'd have talk'd my heart away, though you can peak like any God! oh whether am I driven, what do I ay; 'twas not my purpoe nor my buines here, to give a charaer of Philander, no not to peak of Love! but oh like

[ 92 ] Cowley's Lute, my Soul will found to nothing but to Love! talk what you will, begin what dicoure you pleae, I end it all in Love! becaue my Soul is ever fixt on Philander; and inenibly its byas leads to that Subje; no, I did not when I began to Write, think of peaking one word of my own weaknes; but to have told you with what reolv'd Courage, Honour, and Vertue, I expe your coming; and ure o acred a thing as Love was not made to ruine thee, and therefore in vain my lovely Brother you will attempt it; and yet (oh Heaven's!

[ 93 ] I give a private Aignation, in my Apartment, alone and at Night; where ilence, Love, and ades are all your friends, where opportunity obliges your Paion, while Heav'n knows, not one of all thee, nor any kind power is friend to me, I all be left to you, and all thee Tyrants, expos'd without other Guards than this boaed Vertue, which had need be wonderous to rei all thee powerful enemies of its purity and repoe: Alas I know not its rength, I never try'd it yet; and this will be the fir time it has ever been expos'd to your

[ 94 ] Power, the fir time I ever had courage to meet you as a Lover, and let you in by ealth, and put my elf unguarded into your hands; Oh I dy with the apprehenion of approaching danger; and yet I have not power to retreat, I mu on, Love compells me, Love holds me fa, the miling flatterer promies a Thouand joys, a Thouand Raviing Minutes of delight; all innocent and harmles as his Mothers Doves: But oh they Bill and kis, and do a Thouand things I mu forbid Philander: for I have often heard him ay with ighs, that his compleion

[ 95 ] render'd him les capable of the oft play of Love, than any other Lover: I've een him fly my very touches, yet wear they were the greate joy on Earth: I tempt him even with my looks from Vertue; and when I ak the caue, or cry he's cold, he vows 'tis becaue he dares not indure my Temptations; ays his Blood runs hotter and fircer in his Veins than any others do's; nor has the oft repeated joys reap'd in the Marriage Bed, any thing abated that which he wit, but he fear'd wou'd ruine me: Thus, thus whole days we have at and gaz'd and

[ 96 ] igh'd, but dur not tru our Vertues with fond Dalliance.

My Page is come to tell me that Madam the Dutches of --- is come to Bellfont, and I am oblig'd to quit my Cabinet, but with infinite regret, being at preent much more to my Soul's content imploy'd; but Love mu ometimes give place to Devoir and repe; Dorillus too waits, and tells Melinda, he will not depart without omething for his Lord, to entertain him till the happy hour: The Ruick pleas'd me with the concern he had for my Philander;

[ 97 ] oh my Charming Brother, you have an Art to tame even alvages, a Tongue that wou'd charm and ingage wildnes it elf, to oftnes and gentlenes, and give the rough unthinking Love; 'tis a tedious time to night, how all I pas the hours?

[ 98 ]

To Silvia.

Say fond Love whither wilt thou lead me? thou ha brought me from the noyey hurry's of the Town, to charming olitude; from Crowded Cabals, where mighty things are reolving to loanly Groves, to thy own abodes, where thou dwell', gay and pleas'd, among the Rural Swains in ady homely Cottages; thou ha brought me to a Grove of flowers, to the brink of Purling Streams, where thou

[ 99 ] ha laid me down to contemplate on Silvia! to think my tedious hours away, in the ofte imagination a Soul inpir'd by Love can conceive; to increae my Paion by every thing I behold; for every Sound that meets the ene, is thy proper Muick, oh Love! and every thing inpires thy diates; the Winds a round me blow oft, and mixing with the wanton Boughs, continually play and Kis; while thoe like a coy Maid in Love rei and comply by turns; they like a ravit vigorous Lover, ru on with a tranported violence; rudely imbracing F2

[ 100 ] its Spring dre Mires, ruling her Native order; while the pretty Birds on the dancing Branches inceantly make Love: upbraiding duller man with his defeive want of fire: man the Lord of all! he to be inted in the mo valuable joy of Life! is it not Pity? here's no troubleome Honour, among the pretty inhabitants of the Woods and Streams, fondly to give Laws to Nature, but uncontroul'd they play, and ing, and Love; no Parents checking their dear delights, no lavi Matrimonial tyes to rerain their Nobler flame. No pyes to

[ 101 ] interrupt their ble appointments, but every little Ne is free and open to receive the young fletch't Lover; every bough is concious of their Paion, nor do the generous pair langui in tedious Ceremony, but meeting look, and like, and Love, imbrace with their wingy Arms, and alute with their little opening Bills; this is their Courtip; this the amorous complement, and this only the introduion to all their following happines; and thus it is with the Flocks and Heards, while canted man, born alone for the fatigues of Love, with indurious F3

[ 102 ] toyl, and all his boaing Arts of Eloquence, his Godlike Image, and his noble form, may labour on a tedious term of years, with pain, expence, and hazard, before he can arrive at happines, and then too perhaps his Vows are unregarded, and all his Sighs and Tears are vain. Tell me oh you fellow Lovers, yea amorous dear Bruits tell me, when ever you lay Languiing beneath your Coverts thus for your fair e; and dur not approach for fear of Honour? tell me by a gentle bleat ye little butting Rams; do you Sigh thus for your oft white

[ 103 ] Ewes? do you ly thus conceal'd, to wait the coming ades of Night, till all the curled pyes are folded? no, no, even you are much more ble than Man, who is bound up to rules fetter'd by the nice decencies of Honour.

My divine Maid, thus were my thoughts imploy'd, when from the farthe end of the Grove where I now remain, I aw Dorillus approach with thy welcome Letter, he tells you had like to have been urpris'd in making it up; and he receiv'd it with much diiculty, ah Silvia ou'd any accident happen to prevent my eeing you to Night, I were undone

[ 104 ] for ever, and you mu expe to find me retch'd out, dead and cold under this Oak where now I ly Writing on its knotty root; thy Letter I confes is dear, it contains thy Soul and my happines, but this after ory of the urprize I long to be inform'd of, for from thence I may gather part of my Fortune. I rave and dy with fear of a diappointment, not but I wou'd undergo a Thouand Torments and deaths for Silvia; but oh conider me, and let me not uer if poible; for know my charming Angel, my impatient heart is almo broke, and will not contain

[ 105 ] it elf without being nearer my adorable Maid; without taking in at my Eyes a little comfort, no, I am reolv'd! put me not o with tricks, which fooli Honour invents to jilt mankind with; for if you do, by Heav'n I will forget all coniderations and repe, and force my elf with all the violence of raging Love, into the preence of my cruel Silvia, own her mine, and Ravi my delight, nor all the happy Walls of Bellfont be of rength uicient to ecure her, nay, perwade me not, for if you make me mad and raving, this will be the ees on't: F5

[ 106 ] --- Oh pardon me my acred Maid, pardon the wildnes of my frantick Love. --- I paws'd; took a turn or two in the lone path, conider'd what I had aid, and found it was too much; too bold, too rude to approach, my oft, my tender Maid: I am calm my Soul, as thy bewitching miles; hu as thy ecret Sighs, and will reolve to dy rather than oend my adorable Virgin; only end me word what you think of my Fate, while I expe it here on this kind Moy bed where I now ly; which I wou'd not quit for a Throne, ince

[ 107 ] here I may hope the News may oone arrive to make me happier than a God! which that nothing on my part may prevent, I here Vow in the face of Heav'n, I will not abue the freedome my Silvia blees me with; nor all my Love go beyond the limits of Honour. Silvia: all command with a frown, and fetter me with a Smile; precribe rules to my longing Ravi't Eyes, and pinion my buie fond Roving hands: and lay at her feet like a tame lave, her adoring.

Philander.

[ 108 ]

To Philander.

Approach, approach you acred Queen of Night, and bring Philander Veil'd from all eyes but mine! approach at a fond Lovers call, behold how I ly panting with expeation, tir'd out with your tedious Cerimony to the God of day; be kind oh lovely Night, and let the Deity decend to his belov'd Thetis's Arms, and I to my Philanders; the Sun and I mu natch our joys in the ame happy hours! favour'd by thee, oh acred ilent Night! ee, ee the inamour'd Sun is

[ 109 ] haing on apace to his expeing Mires, while thou dull Night art lowly lingring yet. Advance my Friend! my Goddes! and my confident! hide all my blues, all my oft confuions, my tremblings, tranports, and Eyes all Languiing.

Oh Philander! a Thouand things I've done to divert the tedious hours, but nothing can: all things are dull without thee. I'm tir'd with every thing, impatient to end, as oon as I begin 'em, even the Shades and olitary Walks aord me now no eae, no atifaion and thought, but alis me more, that

[ 110 ] us'd to relieve. And I at la have recoure to my kind Pen: For while I Write methinks I'm talking to thee, I tell thee thus my Soul, while thou methinks art all the while miling and liening by; this is much eaier than ilent thought, and my Soul is never weary of this convere, and thus I wou'd peak a Thouand things, but that ill, methinks words do not enough expres my Soul, to underand that right there requires looks; there is a Rethorick in looks, in Sighs and ilent touches that urpaes all! there is an Accent in the ound of words

[ 111 ] too, that gives a ene and oft meaning to little things, which of themelves are of trivial value, and inignificant; and by the cadence of the utterance may expres a tendernes which their own meaning does not bear; by this I wou'd ininuate that the ory of the heart cannot be o well told by this way as by preence and converation; ure Philander underands what I mean by this? which poibly is nonene to all but a Lover, who apprehends all the little fond prattle of the thing belov'd, and finds an Eloquence in it, that to a ene unconcern'd wou'd appear

[ 112 ] even approaching to Folly: But Philander, who has the true Notions of Love in him, apprehends all that can be aid on that dear Subje; to him I venture to ay any thing, whoe kind and oft imaginations can upply all my wants in the decription of the Soul: Will it not Philander, anwer me? --- But oh where art thou? I ee thee not, I touch thee not; but when I ha with tranport to imbrace thee, 'tis adow all, and my poor Arms return empty to my Boome; why, oh why com' thou not? why art thou cautious, and prudently waite the

[ 113 ] low-pac'd Night: Oh cold, oh unreaonable Lover why? --- But I grow wild and know not what I ay: Impatient Love betrays me to a Thouand folly's a Thouand ranees: I dy with ame, but I mu be undone, and 'tis no matter how, whether by my own weaknes, Philander's Charms, or both; I know not, but o 'tis dein'd, --- Oh Philander, 'tis two tedious hours Love has counted, ince you Writ to me, yet are but a quarter of a Mile diant; what have you been doing all that live-long while? are you not unkind, does not Silvia ly negleed

[ 114 ] and unregarded in your thoughts? hudled up confuedly with your graver buines of State, and almo lo in the ambitious crowd? Say, ay my lovely Charmer, is e not, does not this fatal Intere you epoue, Rival your Silvia, is e not too often remov'd thence to let in that haughty Tyrant Mires? Alas Philander I more than fear e is; and oh my Adorable Lover, when I look forward on our coming happines, when ever I lay by the thoughts of Honour, and give a looe to Love, I run not far in the pleaing carier, before that dreadful

[ 115 ] thought op me on my way: I have a fatal prophetick fear, that gives a check to my oft puruit, and tells me that thy unhappy ingagement in this League, this accured Aociation, will one day undo us both, and part for ever thee and thy unlucky Silvia; yes, yes my dear Lord; my Soul does preage an unfortunate event from this dire ingagement; nor can your fale Reaoning, your fancy'd advantages reconcile it to my hone, good-natur'd heart; and urely the deign is inconient with Love, for two uch mighty contradiions and enemies as Love and

[ 116 ] ambition, or revenge, can never ure abide in one Soul together, at lea Love can but are Philander's Heart, when blood and revenge (which he micalls Glory) Rivals it, and has poibly the greate part in it; methinks this notion inlarges in me, and every word, I peak, and every Minutes thought of it, rengthens its reaons to me, and give me leave (while I am full of the jealouie of it) to expres my entiments, and lay before you thoe reaons that Love and I think mo ubantial ones; what you have hitherto deir'd of me, oh unreaonable Philander,

[ 117 ] and what (I out of Modey and Honour deny'd) I have reaon to fear (from the abolute conque you have made of my Heart) that ome time or other the charming thief may break in and rob me of, for fame and Vertue love begins to laugh at. My dear unfortunate condition being thus, 'tis not impoible, oh Philander, but I may one day in ome unlucky hour, in ome oft bewitching moment, in ome pightful critical raviing minute, yield all to the Charming Philander; and if o where, oh where is my ecurity that I all not be abandoned by

[ 118 ] the Lovely Vior, for 'tis not your Vows which you call acred (and I alas believe o) that can ecure me, though I Heav'n knows believe 'em all, and am undone; you may keep 'em all too, and I believe you will, but oh Philander in thee fatal circumances you have ingag'd your elf in, can you ecure me my Lover? your proteations you may, but not the dear Proteor. Is it not enough, oh Philander, for my eternal unquiet and undoing to know you are Married, and cannot therefore be intirely mine? is not this enough, oh cruel Philander? but you mu

[ 119 ] epoue a fatal caue too, more pernicious than that Matrimony, and more deruive to my repoe: oh give me leave to reaon with you, and ince you have been pleas'd to tru and ali me with the ecret; which hone as I am I will never betray yet, yet give me leave to urge the danger of it to you, and conequently to me, if you purue it, when you are with me, we can think and talk, and argue nothing but the mightier buines of Love! and 'tis fit I that o fondly and fatally love you, ou'd warn you of the danger. Conider my Lord you

[ 120 ] are born Noble, from Parents of untainted Loyalty, ble with a Fortune few Princes beneath Sovereignty are Maers of; ble with all gaining Youth, commanding Beauty, Wit, Courage, Bravery of mind, and all that renders men eeem'd and ador'd, what wou'd you more? what is it oh my Charming Brother then, that you et up for, is it Glory? oh miaken lovely Youth, that Glory is but a glittering light that flaes for a moment, and then it diappears, 'tis a fale Bravery, that will bring an eternal blemi upon your hone fame and houe; render

[ 121 ] your honourable name, hated, deteed, and abominable in ory to after Ages, a Traytor? the wor of Titles, the mo inglorious and ameful; what has the King, our good, our Gracious Monarch done to Philander? how dioblig'd him? or indeed what injury to Mankind? who has he oppre? where play'd the Tyrant; or the Ravier? what one cruel or angry thing has he committed in all the time of his fortunate and peaceable Reign over us? Whoe Ox or whoe As has he unjuly taken? What Orphan wrong'd, or Widows Tears negleed? G

[ 122 ] but all his Life has been one continu'd Miracle, all Good, all Gracious, Calm and Merciful: and this good, this Godlike King is mark'd out for laughter, deign'd a Sacrifice to the private revenge of a few ambitious Knaves and Rebels, whoe pretence is the publick good, and doom'd to be baely Murder'd; A Murder! even on the wor of Criminals, carries with it a Cowardie o black and infamous, as the mo abje Wretches, the meane pirited Creature has an abhorrence for; what to Murder a Man unthinking, unwarn'd, unprepar'd and undefended!

[ 123 ] oh barbarous! oh poor and mo unbrave! what Villain is there o lo to all humanity, to be found upon the face of the Earth, that when done, dares own o helli a deed, as the Murder of the meane of his Fellow-Subjes, much les the acred Peron of the King! The Lords Anointed; one whoe awful face 'tis impoible to look without that reverence wherewith one wou'd behold a God! for 'tis mo certain, that every Glance from his piercing wondrous eyes, begets a trembling Adoration; for my part I Swear to you, Philander, I never G2

[ 124 ] approach His Sacred Peron, but my Heart beats, my Blood runs cold about me, and my Eyes o'reflow with Tears of joy, while an awful confuion eizes me all over, and I am certain ou'd the mo harden'd of your Bloody Rebels look him in the face, the devili inrument of Death wou'd drop from his acrilegious hand, and leave him confounded at the feet of the Royal forgiving Suerer, his eyes have in 'em omthing o fierce, o Majeick commanding, and yet o good and merciful as wou'd often Rebellion it elf into repenting Loyalty;

[ 125 ] and like Cajus Marius eem to ay --- Who is't dares hurt the King! --- They alone like his Guardian Angels defend his Sacred Peron, oh! what pity 'tis, unhappy young man, thy Education was not near the King.

'Tis plain, 'tis reaonable, 'tis hone, Great and Glorious to believe, what thy own ene (if thou wilt but think and conider) wilt inru thee in, that Treaon, Rebellion and Murder are far from the Paths that lead to Glory, which are as diant as Hell from Heav'n. What is it then to advance (ince I ay 'tis plain, Glory is never this way

[ 126 ] to be atchiev'd) is it to add more Thouands to thoe, Fortune has already o lavily beow'd on you? oh my Philander that's to double the va crime, which reaches already to Damnation: wou'd your Honour, your Concience, your Chriianity or common humanity uer you to inlarge your Fortunes at the price of anothers ruine? and make the poyls of ome hone Noble Unfortunate Family, the rewards of your Treachery? wou'd you build your fame on uch a Foundation? Perhaps on the deruion of ome friend or Kinman. Oh Barbarous

[ 127 ] and miaken Greatnes, Thieves and Robbers wou'd corn uch outrages, that had but ouls and ene.

It it for addition of Titles? what elevation can you have much greater than where you now and fixt, if you do not grow giddy with your fancy'd fale hopes, and fall from that glorious height you are already arriv'd to, and which with the hone addition of Loyalty, is of far more value and luer than to arrive at Crowns by Blood and Treaon. This will la; to Ages la; in ory la. While t'other will be ridicul'd to all poerity, ort liv'd and

[ 128 ] reproachful here, infamous and accurs'd to all eternity.

Is it to make Cario King? oh what is Cario to my Philander? If a Monarchy you deign; then why not this King, this great, this good, this Royal Forgiver? --- This who was born a King; and born your King; and holds his Crown by right of Nature, by right of Law, by right of Heav'n it elf; Heav'n who has preerv'd him, and confirm'd him ours, by a Thouand miraculous ecapes and uerings, and indulg'd him ours by Ten Thouand as of mercy and

[ 129 ] indear'd him to us by his wondrous care and condu, by ecuring of Peace, plenty, eae and luxurious happines, o're all the fortunate limits of His Bleed Kingdoms; and will you, wou'd you deroy this wonderous gift of Heaven: this Godlike King, this real good we now poes, for a mo uncertain one: and with it the repoe of all the happy Nation, to eabli a King without Law, without right, without conent, without Title, and indeed without even competent parts for o va a tru or o Glorious a rule: One who never oblig'd the Nation by one G5

[ 130 ] ingle A of Goodnes, or Valour in all the coure of his Life; and who never ignaliz'd either to the advantage of one man of all the Kingdom: A Prince unfortunate in his Principles and Morals: And whoe ole ingle Ingratitude to his Majey, for o many Royal Bounty's, Honours, and Glories heap'd upon him, is of its elf enough to et any hone generous heart again him; what is it bewitches you o? is it his Beauty? then Philander has a greater Title than Cario; and not one other merit has he; ince in Piety, Chaity, Sobriety, Charity, and Honour,

[ 131 ] he as little excels as in Gratitude, Obedience, and Loyalty. What then my dear Philander! is it his weaknes? Ah there's the Argument: You all propoe and think to govern o oft a King: But believe me, oh unhappy Philander! nothing is more ungovernable than a Fool; nothing more obinate, willful, conceited and cunning; and for his gratitude, let the world judge what he mu prove to his Servants who has dealt o ill with his Lord and Maer; how he mu reward thoe that preent him with a Crown, who deals o ungraciouly

[ 132 ] with him who gave him Life, and who et him up an happyer obje than a Monarch; No, no Philander, he that can cabal, and contrive to dethrone a father, will find it eaie to dicard the wicked and hated Inruments that aied him to mount it; decline him then oh fond and deluded Philander, decline him early, for you of all the re ought to do o; and not to et a helping hand to load him with Honours, that choe you out from all the World to load with infamy: remember that; remember Mertilla, and then renounce him; do not you contribute

[ 133 ] to the adoring of his unfit head with a Diadem, the mo glorious of Ornaments, who unadorn'd yours, with the mo inglorious of all reproaches. Think of this, oh thou unconidering Noble Youth, lay thy hand upon thy generous heart, and tell it all the fears, all the reaonings of her that loves thee more than life, a Thouand Arguments I cou'd bring, but thee few unudyed (falling in among my ofter thoughts) I beg thou wilt accept of, till I can more at large deliver the Glorious Argument to your Soul; let this uice to tell thee, that the like Caandria

[ 134 ] I rave and propheie in vain, this Aociation will be the eternal ruine of Philander, for let it ucceed or not, either way thou art undone; if thou puru' it, and I mu infallibly fall with thee, if I reolve to follow thy good or ill Fortune, for you cannot intend Love and Ambition, Silvia and Cario at once: No, perwade me not, the Title to one or t'other mu be laid down Silvia or Cario mu be abandon'd; this is my fixt reolve, if thy too powerful Arguments convince not in pight of reaon; for they can do't, thou ha the tongue of an Angel,

[ 135 ] and the Eloquence of a God, and while I lien to thy Voice, I take all thou ay' for wondrous ene --- Farewell; about. Two hours hence I all expe you at the Gate that leads into the Garden Grove --- Adieu! remember.

Silvia.

[ 136 ]

To Silvia.
How comes my charming Silvia o kill'd in the Myeries of State? where learnt her tender heart the Notions of rigid buines? where her oft Tongue, form'd only for the dear Language of Love, to talk of the concerns of Nations and Kingdoms? 'tis true, when I gave my Soul away to my dear Councellor, I reerv'd nothing to my elf, not even that ecret that o concern'd my Life, but laid all at her Mercy; my generous Heart cou'd not Love at a

[ 137 ] les rate, than to lavi all, and be undone for Silvia; 'tis Glorious ruine, and it pleaes me, if it advance once ingle joy, or add one demonration of my Love to Silvia; 'tis not enough that we tell thoe we Love all they love to hear, but one ought to tell 'em too, every ecret that we know; and conceal no part of that Heart one has made at preent to the peron one Loves, 'tis a Treaon in Love not to be Pardon'd, I am enible that when my ory's told (and this happy one of my Love all make up the greate part of my Hiory) that thoe that Love

[ 138 ] not like me, will be apt to blame me, and charge me with weaknes for revealing o great a tru to a Woman; and among all that I all do to arrive at Glory, that will brand me with feables; but Silvia when Lovers all read it, the men will excue me, and the Maids bles me! I all be a fond admir'd preident, for them to point but to their remis reerving Lovers, who will be reproached for not peruing my example. I know not what opinion Men generally have of the weaknes of Women; but 'tis ure a vulgar error, for were they like my adorable

[ 139 ] Silvia! had they her wit, her vivacity of pirit, her Courage, her generous fortitude, her command in every graceful look and Aion, they were mo certainly fit to rule and Reign, and Man was only born robu and rong to ecure 'em on thoe Thrones they are form'd (by Beauty, Softnes, and a Thouand Charms which men want) to poes. Glorious Woman! was born for command and Dominion; and though cuom has uurpt us the name of Rule over all; we from the beginning found our elves, (in pight of all our boaed prerogative)

[ 140 ] laves and Vaals to the Almighty Sex. Take then my are of Empire ye Gods! and give me Love! let me toyl to gain, but let Silvia Triumph and Reign, I ak no more! no more than the led lave at her Chariot Wheels, to gaze on my Charming Conqueres, and wear with joy her Fetters! oh how proud I ou'd be to ee the dear Vior of my Soul o elevated, o adorn'd with Crowns and Scepters at her feet, which I had won; to ee her miling on the adoring Crown, diributing her Glories to young waiting Princes; there dealing Provinces,

[ 141 ] and there a Coronet. Heavens! methinks I ee the lovely Virgin in this ate, her Chariot lowly driving through the multitude that pres to gaze upon her, e dre like Venus richly gay and looe, her Hair and Robe blown by the flying Winds, dicovering a Thouand Charms to view, thus the young Goddes look't, then when e drove her Chariot down, decending Clouds to meet the Love-ick God in cooling Shades; and o wou'd look my Silvia! ah my oft lovely Maid, uch thoughts as thee fir'd me with Ambition: For me, I wear by

[ 142 ] every power that made me Love, and made thee wondrous fair, I deign no more by this great enterprize, than to make thee ome glorious thing, elevated above what we have een yet on Earth: to raie thee above Fate or Fortune, beyond that pity of thy duller Sex, who underand not thy Soul, nor can never reach the flights of thy generous Love! no my Soul's joy I mu not leave thee lyable to their little natural Malice and corn, to the impertinence of their reproaches. No my Silvia I mu on, the great deign mu move forward; though I abandon

[ 143 ] it, 'twill advance, and 'tis already too far to put a op to it; and now I'm enter'd 'tis in vain to retreat, if we are properous, 'twill to all Ages be call'd a Glorious enterprize, but if we fail 'twill be bae, horrid, and infamous, for the world judges of nothing but by the ucces; that caue is always good that's properous, that is ill that's unucceful. Shou'd I now retreat I run many hazards, but to go on I run but one, by the fir I all alarm the whole Cabal with a jealouie of my dicovering, and thoe are perons of too great ene and courage, not to take ome

[ 144 ] private way of revenge, to ecure their own akes; and to make my elf uncertainly afe by a dicovery indeed, were to gain a refuge o ignoble, as a Man of Honour wou'd corn to purchae Life at; nor wou'd that baenes ecure me. But in going on, oh Silvia! when Three Kingdoms all ly unpoe, and be expos'd, as it were, among the raling Crowd, who knows but the chance may be mine, as well as any others, who has but the ame hazard, and throw for't; if the ronge Sword mu do't, (as that mu do't) why not mine ill? why may not

[ 145 ] mine ill? Why may not mine be that fortunate one? Ceario has no more right to it than Philander; 'tis true, a few of the Rabble will pretend he has a better title to it, but they are a ort of eay Fools, lavi in nothing but noie and nonene, true to change and inconancy, and will abandon him to their own fury for the next that crys Haloo: Neither is there one part of fifty (of the Fools that cry him up) for his Intere, though they ue him for a Tool to work with, he being the only great Man that wants ene enough to find out the cheat, which they H

[ 146 ] dare impoe upon. Can any body of reaon believe if they had deign'd him good, they would let him bare fac'd have own'd a party o oppoite to all Laws of Nature, Religion, Humanity and Common gratitude? when his Intere if deign'd might have been carry'd on better, if he had ill diembled and ay'd in Court: no believe me, Silvia, the Politicians ow him to render him odious to all men of tolerable ence of the Party, for what reaon oever they have who are dioblig'd (or at lea think themelves o) to et up for Liberty, the world

[ 147 ] knows Ceario renders himelf the wor of Criminals by it, and has abandon'd an intere more Glorious and Eay than Empire to ide with and aid People that never did or ever can oblige him: and he is o dull as to imagine that for his ake (who never did us ervice or good, unles Cuckolding us be good) we ould venture life and fame to pull down a true Monarch, to et up his Baard over us Ceariomu pardon me, if I think his Politicks are allow as his Parts, and that his own Intere has undone him; for of what advantage oever the H2

[ 148 ] deign may be to us, it really ocks ones nature to find a Son engag'd again a Father, and to him uch a Father: Nor when time comes, all I forget the ruine of Mertilla. But let him hope on --- and o will I, as do a thouand more for ought I know; I et out as fair as they, and will art as eagerly; if I mis it now, I have Youth and Vigor uicient for another Race, and while I and on Fortunes Wheel as e rouls it round, it may be my turn to be o'th top; for when 'tis et in motion, believe me Silvia, 'tis not eaily fixt; however let it uice

[ 149 ] I'm now in pa a retreat, and to urge it now to me, is but to put me into inevitable danger; at be it can but et me where I was, that's wore than death when every fool is aiming at a Kingdom; what man of tollerable Pride and Ambition can be unconcern'd, and not put himelf into a poure of catching, when a Diadem all be thrown among the Croud? 'twere Inenibility, upid Dulnes, not to lift a hand, or make an eort to natch it as it flys: though the glorious falling weight ould cru me, 'tis great to attempt, and if fortune do H3

[ 150 ] not favour Fools, I have as fair a Grap for't as any other adventurer.

This my Silvia is my ene of a buines you o much dread, I may rie, but I cannot fall; therefore my Silvia urge it no more, Love gave me Ambition, and do not divert the Glorious ees of your wonderous Charms, but let 'em grow and pread and ee what they will produce, for my Lovely Silvia the advantages will mo certainly be hers: --- But no more, how came my Love o Dull to entertain thee o many minutes thus with reaons for an aair which one

[ 151 ] oft hour with Silvia will convince to what e wou'd have it; believe me it will, I will acrifice all to her repoe, nay to her lea Command, even the Life of

(My Eternal Pleaure)

Your Philander.

I have no longer patience, I mu be coming towards the Grove, though 'twill do me no good, more than knowing I am o much nearer my Adorable Creature.

I conjure you burn this, for writing in hae, I have not counterfeited my hand.

[ 152 ]

To Silvia,

Writ in a pair of Tablets.
My Charmer, I wait your Commands in the Meadow behind the Grove, where I aw Dorinda, Dorilus his Daughter, entring with a Baket of Cowlips for Silvia, unnecearily oering weets to the Goddes of the Groves from whence they (with all the re of their gaudy Fellows of the Spring) aume their Raviing Odours. I take every opportunity of telling my Silvia what I have o often repeated, and all be ever repeating with the ame joy while I live, that I Love my Silvia to Death and Madnes, that my oul is on the Wrack, till e end me the happy advancing word! And yet

[ 153 ] believe me Lovely Maid, I could grow old with waiting here the bleed moment, though et at any diance (within the compas of Life, and impoible to be till than arriv'd to) but when I am o near approach't it; Love from all parts rallies and haens to my heart for the mighty incounter, till the poor panting overloaded Viim dies with the preing weight. No more, --- You know it, for 'tis and will be eternally Silvia's.

POSTSCRIPT. Remember my Adorable, 'tis now even a Clock, I have my Watch in my hand, waiting and looking on the low pac'd Minutes, Eight will quickly arrive I hope, and then 'tis dark enough to hide me: hinkwhere I am, and who I am, twaiting near Silvia, and her Philander. H5

[ 154 ] I think my dear Angel you have the other Key of thee Tablets, if not they are eaily broke open: you have an hour good to write in Silvia, and I all wait unimployed by any thing but thought. Send me word how you were like to have been urpriz'd; it may poibly be of advantage to me in this nights dear adventure. I wonder'd at the Supercription of my Letter indeed, of which Dorilus could give me no other account, than that you were urpriz'd, and he receiv'd it with diiculty; give me the ory now, do it in charity my Angel. Beides I would imploy all thy moments, for I am jealous of every one that is not dedicated to Silvia's Philander.

[ 155 ]

To Philander. I have receiv'd your Tablets, of which I have the Key, and heaven only knows, (for Lovers cannot unles they lov'd like Silvia and her Philander) what pains and Pantings my heart uain'd at every thought that brought me of thy near approach; every moment I art, and am ready to faint with joy, Fear, and omething not to be expre that eizes me. To add to this, I have buied my elf with dreing my Apartment up with Flowers, o that I fancy the Cermonious buines of the night looks like the preparations for the dear joy of the Nuptial Bed, that too is o adorn'd and deck'd with all that's weet and gay, all which poees me with o raviing and olemn

[ 156 ] a Confuion that 'tis even approaching to the mo profound adnes it elf. Oh Philander, I find I am fond of being undone, and unles you take a more than mortal care of me, I know this night ome fatal michief will befall me; what 'tis I know not, either the los of Philander, my Life, or my Honour, or all together, which a dicovery only of your being alone in my Apartment and at uch an Hour, will mo certainly draw upon us: Death is the lea we mu expe, by ome urprie or other, my Father being ra, and extreamly jealous, and the more o of me, by how much more he is fond of me, and nothing would inrage him like the dicovery of an enterview like this; though you have Liberty to range the houe of Bellfont as a Son, and are indeed at home there, but when

[ 157 ] you come by ealth; when he all find his Son and Virgin Daughter, the Brother and the Sier o retir'd, o entertain'd. --- What but death can inue, or what's wore, eternal ame? eternal confuion on my honour? What Excue, what Evaions, Vows and Proteations will convince him, or appeae Mertila's Jealouy, Mertilla my Sier, and Philander's Wife? --- Oh God! that cruel thought will put me into ravings; I have a thouand reams of killing refleion that flow from that original Fountain! Cure on the Alliance that gave you a welcome to Bellfont. Ah Philander, could you not have ay'd ten ort years longer? Alas you thought that was an Age in Youth, but 'tis but a day in Love: Ah could not your eager youth have led you to a thouand diverions, a thouand

[ 158 ] times have baited in the long journey of life without hurrying on to the la Stage, to the la retreat, but the Grave; and to me eem as Irrecoverable as impoible to retrieve thee? --- Could no kind Beauty op thee on thy way, in charity or pity? Philander aw me then! and though Mertila was more fit for his Carees, and I but capable to pleae with Childi prattle. Oh could he not have een a promiing Bloom in my Face, that might have foretold the future Conques I was born to make? Oh was there no Prophetick Charm that could bepeak your heart, ingage it, and prevent that fatal Marriage? You ay my Adorable Brother, we were dein'd from our Creation for one another; that the Decrees of Heaven, or Fate, or both, deign'd us for this mutual paion: Why then, oh why did not Heaven,

[ 159 ] Fate, or Deiny, do the mighty work, when fir you aw my infant Charms. But oh Philander, why do I vainly rave, why call in vain on time that's fled and gone; why idly wi for Ten years retribution? That will not yield a Day, an Hour, a Minute: No no, 'tis pa, 'tis pa and flown for ever, as diant as a thouand years to me, as irrecoverable. Oh Philander, what ha thou thrown away? Ten glorious years of Raviing Youth, of unmatch'd Heavenly Beauty, on one that knew not half the value of it Silvia was only born to et a Rate upon't, was alone capable of Love, uch love as might deerve it: Oh why was that charming face ever laid on any boom that knew not how to igh and pant, and heave at every touch of o much diraing Beauty. Oh why were thoe dear Arms whoe

[ 160 ] oft preings that ravi where they circle, dein'd for a Body Cold and Dull, that could leep inenibly there, and not o much as dream the while what the tranporting pleaure ignified, but unconcern'd receiv'd the wondrous bleings, and never knew its Price, or thank'd her ars. She has thee all the day, to gaze upon, and yet e lets thee pas her careles ight, as if there were no Miracles in view: e does not ee the little Gods of Love that play eternally in thy Eyes; and ince e never receiv'd a Dart from thence, believes there's no Artillery there. She plays not with thy Hair, nor Weaves her nowy fingers in thy Curles of Jett, ets it in order, or adores its Beauty: The Fool with flaxen Wigg had done as well for her; a dull white Coxcomb had made as good a Property; a Huband

[ 161 ] is no more, at be no more. Oh thou Charming obje of my eternal wies, why wert thou thus dipos'd? Oh ave my life, and tell me what indierent impule oblig'd thee to thee Nuptials: had Mertila been recommended or forc'd by the Tyranny of a Father into thy Arms, or for bae Lucre thou ha choen her, this had excus'd thy Youth and Crime; obedience or vanity I could have Pardon'd, --- But oh --- 'Twas Love! Love my Philander! thy raving Love, and that which has undone thee was a Rape rather than a Marriage; you fled with her. Oh Heavens, mad to poes you ole the unloving Prie! --- Yes you lov'd her, fale as you are you did, perjur'd and faithles. Lov'd her; --- Hell and confuion on the VVorld, 'twas o. --- Oh Philander I am lo ---

This Letter was found in pieces torn.

[ 162 ]

To Monieur the Count of ---

My Lord, Thee Pieces of Paper which I have put together as well as I could, were writ by my Lady to have been ent by Dorinda, when on a udden e roe in rage from her eat, tore fir the Paper, and then her Robes and Hair, and indeed nothing has ecap'd the violence of her Paion; nor could my Prayers or Tears retrieve them or calm her: 'tis however chang'd at la to mighty paions of weeping, in which imployment I have left her on her repoe, being commanded away. I thought it my duty to give your Lordip this account, and to end the pieces of Paper, that your Lordip may gues at the occaion of the udden orm

[ 163 ] which ever ries in that fatal quarter; but in putting 'em in order, I had like to have been urpriz'd by my Lady's Father, for my Lord the Count having long ollicited me for favours, and taking all opportunities of entertaining me, found me alone in my Chamber, imployed in erving your Lordip; I had only time to hide the Papers, and to get rid of him) have given him an Aignation to night in the Garden Grove to give him the hearing to what he ays he has to propoe to me: Pray Heaven all things go right to your Lorips wi this Evening, for many ominous things happen'd to day. Madam, the Countes had like to have taken a Letter writ for your Lordip to day; for the Dutches of --- coming to make her a viit, came on a udden with her into my Lady's Apartment, and urpriz'd

[ 164 ] her writing in her Dreing Room, giving her only time to lip the Paper into her Comb-box. The fir Ceremonies being pa, as Madam the Dutches ues not much, e fell to Commend my Lady's dreing Plate, and taking up the Box and opening it, found the Letter, and Laughing cry'd, Oh have I found you making Love? At which my Lady with an infinite confuion would have retriev'd it, --- But the Dutches not quitting her hold, Cry'd --- Nay I am reolv'd to ee in what manner you write to a Lover, and whether you have a Heart tender or cruel; at which e began to read aloud, My Lady to blu and change Colour a Hundred times in a minute; I ready to dye with fear; Madam the Countes in infinite amazement, my Lady interrupting every word the Dutches read by Prayers and

[ 165 ] Intreaties, which heighten'd her Curioity, and being young and airy, regarded not the Indecency, to which e prefer'd her Curioity, who ill Laughing, cry'd e was reolv'd to read it out, and know the conitution of her heart; when my Lady, whoe wit never fail'd her, Cry'd, I beeech you Madam, let us have o much compliance for Melinda to ak her conent in this aair, and then I am pleas'd you ould ee what Love I can make upon occaion: I took the hint, and with a real confuion, Cry'd --- I implore you Madam not to dicover my weaknes to Madam the Dutches; I would not for the World --- Be thought to love o paionately as your Ladyip in favour of Alexis has made me profes under the name of Silvia to Philander. This incourag'd my Lady, who began to ay a thouand pleaant things

[ 166 ] of Alexis Dorillus his Son, and my Lover as your Lordip knows, and who is no inconiderable fortune for a Maid inrich'd only by your Lordips Bounty. My Lady after this took the Letter, and all being reolv'd it ould be read, e her elf did it, and turn'd it o prettily into Burleque Love by her manner of reading it, that made Madam the Dutches laugh extreamly; who at the end of it cry'd to my Lady --- VVell Madam I am atified you have not a heart wholly inenible of Love, that could o well expres it for another. Thus they rallied on, 'till careful of my Lovers repoe, the Dutches urg'd the Letter might be immediately ent away, at which my Lady readily folding up the Letter, writ, For the conant Alexis on the out-ide: I took it, and beg'd I might have leave to retire to write it over in my own

[ 167 ] hand, they permitted me, and I carried it after ealing it to Dorillus, who waited for it, and wondering to find his Sons name on it, Cry'd --- Mires Melinda, I doubt you have miook my preent buines, I wait for a Letter from my Lady to my Lord, and you give me one from your elf to my Son Alexis; 'twill be very welcome to Alexis I confes, but at this time I had rather oblige my Lord than my Son; I Laughing, reply'd he was miaken, that Alexis at this time meant no other than my Lord, which pleas'd the good man extreamly, who thought it a good omen for his Son, and o went his way atify'd; as every body was except the Countes, who fancy'd omething more in it than my Lady's inditing for me; and after Madam the Dutches was gone e went ruminating and penive to her Chamber, from whence I am

[ 168 ] confident e will not depart to night, and will poible et Spies in every corner; at lea 'tis good to fear the wor, that we may prevent all things that would hinder this nights aignation: As oon as the Coa is clear, I'll wait on your Lordip, and be your Conduor, and in all things ele am ready to ow my elf,

My Lord,
Your Lordips mo humble
and mo obedient Servant,

Melinda.

Silvia has order to wait on your Lordip as oon as all is clear.

[ 169 ]

To Melinda.

Oh Melinda, what have you told me? Stay me with an immediate account of the recovery and calmnes of my Adorable weeping Silvia, or I all enter Belfont with my Sword drawn, bearing down all before me 'till I make my way to my Charming Mourner: Oh God! Silvia in a rage! Silvia in any Paion but that of Love? I cannot bear it, no by Heaven I cannot; I all do ome outrage either on my elf or at Bellfont. Oh thou dear Advocate of my tendere Wies, thou Confident of my never dying flame, thou kind adminiring Maid, end ome relief to my breaking heart --- Ha and tell me, Silvia is calm, that her bright Eyes parkle with miles, or if they langui, ay 'tis with Love, with

[ 170 ] expeing joys; that her dear hands are no more imployed in exercies too rough and unbecoming their native oftnes. Oh eternal God! taring perhaps her Divine Hair, brighter than the Suns refleing Beams, injuring the heavenly Beauty of her Charming Face and Boom, the joy and wi of all Mankind that look upon her: Oh charm her with Prayers and Tears, op her dear Fingers from the rude aault, bind her fair hands: Repeat Philander to her, tell her he's fainting with the news of her unkindnes and outrage on her lovely elf, but tell her too, I dye adoring her; tell her I rave, I tear, I cure my elf, --- For o I do; tell her I would break out into a violence that ould et all Bellfont in a flame, but for my care of her. Heaven and Earth ould not rerain me, --- No, they ould not, ---

[ 171 ] But her lea frown ould ill me, tame me, and make me a calm Coward: ay this, ay all, ay any thing to charm her rage and tears. Oh I am mad, ark mad, and ready to run on that frantick buines I dye to think her guilty of: tell her how 'twould grieve her to ee mee torn and mangled; to ee that hair e loves rul'd and diminit by rage, violated by my inupportable grief, my elf quite bereft of all ene but that of Love, but that of Adoration for my charming, cruel, Inenible, who is poe with every thought, with every imagination that can render me unhapy, born away with every fancy that is in difavour of the wretched Philander. Oh Melinda, write immediately, or you will behold me enter a mo deplorable obje of Pity.

When I receiv'd yours, I fell

[ 172 ] into uch a paion that I forc'd my elf back to Dorillus his Houe, le my tranports had hurry'd me to Bellfont, where I ould have undone all: but as I can re no where, I am now returning to the Meadow again, where I will expe your aid or dye.

From Dorillus his Cottage,
almo nine a Clock.

To Philander.

I mu own my Charming Philander, that my Love is now arriv'd to that exces, that every thought which before but dicompos'd me, now puts me into a violence of rage unbecoming my Sex; or any thing but the mighty occaion of it, Love, and which only had power to calm what it had before ruled into a deruive

[ 173 ] orm; but like the anger'd Sea, which pants and heaves and retains ill an uneaie motion long after the rude winds are appeas'd and hu'd to ilence. My heart beats ill, and heaves with the enible remains of the late dangerous tempe of my mind, and nothing can abolutely calm me but the approach of the all-powerful Philander; though that thought poees me with ten thouand fears, which I know will vani all at thy appearance, and aume no more their dreadful apes till thou art gone again: bring me then that kind ceation, bring me my Lyander and et me above the thoughts of Cares, Frights or any other thoughts but thoe of tender Love: ha then thou charming obje of my eternal wies, of my new deires, ha to my Arms, my Eyes, my Soul, --- But oh be wondrous I3

[ 174 ] careful there, do not betray the eaie Maid that trus thee amid all her acred ore.

'Tis almo dark, and my Mother is retir'd to her Chamber, my Father to his Cabinet, and has left all that Apartment next the Garden wholly without Spies. I have by truy Silvia ent you a Key Melinda got made to the Door, which leads from the Garden to the back-Stairs to my Apartment, o carefully lock'd, and the original Key o cloely guarded by my jealous Father: that way I beg you to come, a way but too well known to Lyander, and by which he has made many an ecape to and from Mertilla. Oh Damn that thought, what makes it torturing me, --- Let me change it for thoe of Lyander, the advantage will be as great as bartering Hell for Heaven; hae then Lyander: But what need I

[ 175 ] bid thee, Love will lend thee his Wings, thou who commande all his Artillery, put 'em on, and fly to thy Languiing

Silvia.

O I faint with the dear
thought of thy Approach.

To the Charming Silvia.

With much ado, with many a Sigh a panting heart, and many a Languiing look back towards happy Bellfont, I have recover'd Dorillus his Farm, where I threw me on a Bed, and lay without motion, and almo without life for two hours; 'till at la through all my Sighs, my great Concern, my Torment, my Love and Rage broke ilence, and bur into all the dierent complaints

[ 176 ] both oft and mad by turns, that ever poe a oul extravagantly eiz'd with frantick Love, Ah Silvia, what did I not ay? How did I not Cure, and who, except my Charming Maid? For yet my Silvia is a Maid; Yes, yes, ye Envying Power e is, and yet the acred and ineimable treaure was oer'd a trembling viim to the o'rejoy'd and fancy'd Deity, for then and there; I thought my elf happier than a triumphing God, but having overcome all diiculties, all the fatigues and toyles of Loves long Sieges, Vanquit the mighty Fantm of the fair, the Giant Honour, and routed all the numerous Ho of Womens little Reaonings, pa all the bounds of peevi Modey: Nay even all the looe and ilken Countercarps that fenc'd the acred Fort, and nothing op'd my glorious puruit: Then, then ye Gods,

[ 177 ] ju then by an over tranport, to fall ju fainting before the urrendering Gates, unable to receive the yielding treaure! Oh Silvia! what Demon, malicious at my Glory, eiz'd my vigor? What God, envious of my mighty joy, render'd me aameful obje of his Raillery? Snatcht my (till then) never failing power, and left me dying on thy Charming Boom. Heavens, how I lay! Silent with wonder, rage and extay of Love, unable to complain, or rail or orm, or eek for eae but with my ighs alone, which made up all my breath; my mad deires remain'd, but all unaive as Age or Death it elf, as cold and feeble, as unfit for joy, as if my Youthful fire had long been pa, or Silvia had never been ble with Charms. Tell me thou wondrous perfe Creature, tell me, where lay the hidden Witchcraft? Was Silvia's Beauty too Divine to mix I5

[ 178 ] with Mortal Joys? Ah no, 'twas Raviing but Humane all. Yet ure 'twas o approaching to Divinity, as chang'd my Fire to Awfull Adoration, and all my wanton heat to reverend Contemplation. --- But this is nonene all, 'twas omething more that gave me rage, depair and torments inupportable: No, 'twas no dull Devotion, tame Divinity, but mortal killing Agony, unlucky diappointment, unnatural impotence, Oh I am lo, enchanted by ome Magick Spell: Oh what can Silvia ay? What can e think of my fond paion? She'll wear 'tis all a cheat, I had it not. No, it could not be, uch Tales I've often heard, as often laught at too; of diappointed Lovers; wou'd Silvia wou'd believe (as ure e may) mine was exces of Paion: What! my Silvia! being arriv'd to all the joy of Love, ju come to reap the glorious

[ 179 ] recompence, the full reward, the Heaven for all my uerings, do I lye gazing only and no more? A dull, a feeble unconcern'd Admirer: Oh my eternal ame! --- Cure on my Youth, give me ye Powers Old Age, for that has ome excue, but Youth has none: 'tis Dullnes, Stupid Inenibility: Where all I hide my head, when this lewd Story's told? When it all be confirm'd, Philander the Young the Brik and Gay Philander, who never fail'd the Woman he carce wit for; never bauk'd the Amorous conceated Old, nor the ill-favour'd Young; yet when he had extended in his Arms the Young, the Charming Fair and Longing Silvia, the untouch'd, unpotted, and till then unwiing Lovely Maid, yielded, defenceles and unguarded all, he wanted power to eize the trembling Prey: Defend me Heaven from Madnes.

[ 180 ] Oh Silvia, I have refleed on all the little circumances that might occaion this diaer, and damn me to this degree of coldnes, but I can fix on none: I had 'tis true for Silvia's ake ome apprehenions of fear of being urpriz'd, for coming through the Garden, I aw at the farther end a man, at lea I fancy'd by that light it was a man, who perceiving the glimps of omething approach from the Grove made oftly towards me but with uch caution as if he fear'd to be miaken in the peron, as much as I was to approach him: and reminding what Melinda told me of an aignation e had made to Monieur the Count --- Imagin'd it him; nor was I miaken when I heard his voice calling in low tone --- Melinda. --- At which I mended my pace, and e're he got half way the Garden recover'd the Door, and oftly unlocking it, got

[ 181 ] in unperceiv'd and faen'd it after me, well enough aur'd that he aw not which way I vanit: however it fail'd not to alarm me with ome fears on your dear account, that diurb'd my repoe, and which I thought then not neceary to impart to you, and which indeed all vanit at the ight of my Adorable Maid: When entering thy Apartment, I beheld thee extended on a Bed of Roes, in Garments which, if poible, by their wanton looe negligence and gaiety augmented thy natural Charms: I trembling fell on my Knees by your Bed-ide, and gaz'd a while, unable to peak for tranports of joy and love: You too were ilent, and remain'd o, o long that I ventur'd to pres your Lips with mine, which all their eager kies could not put in motion, o that I fear'd you fainted; a udden fright that in a moment

[ 182 ] chang'd my Feaver of Love into a cold Ague fit; but you reviv'd me with a Sigh again, and fired me anew, by preing my hand, and from that ilent oft incouragement, I by degrees ravit a thouand Blies; yet ill between your tempting charming kies, you would cry --- Oh my Philander do not injure me, --- Be ure you pres me not to the la joys of Love; --- Oh have a care or I am undone for ever; rerain your roving hands, --- Oh whether would they wander, --- My Soul, my joy, my everlaing Charmer, Oh whether would you go. --- Thus with a Thouand Cautions more, which did but raie what you deign'd to calm, you made me but the madder to poes: not all the Vows you bad me call to mind, could now rerain my wild and head-rong paion; my raving raging (but my oft)

[ 183 ] deire: No Silvia, No, it was not in the power of feeble fle and blood to find reiance again o many Charms; yet ill you made me wear, ill I proteed, but ill burnt on with the ame torturing flame, till the va pleaure even became a pain: To add to this, I aw (Yes Silvia not all your Art and Modey could hide it) I aw the Raviing Maid as much inflam'd as I; e burnt with equal fire, with equal Languiment: Not all her care could keep the Sparks concealed, but it broke out in every word and look; her trembling tongue, her feeble fainting voice betray'd it all, ighs interrupting every yllable; a Languiment I never aw till then dwelt in her Charming Eyes, that contradied all her little Vows; her ort and double breathings heav'd her Brea, her welling nowy brea, her hands

[ 184 ] that grap'd me trembling as they clos'd, while e permitted mine unknown, unheeded to travere all her Beauties, till quite forgetting all I'd faintly promied, and wholly abandoning my oul to joy, I rut upon her, who all fainting lay beneath my ueles weight, for on a udden all my power was fled wifter than Lightning hurryed through my infeebled veins, and vanit all: Not the dear lovely Beauty which I pre, the Dying Charms of that fair face and eyes, the Claps of thoe oft Arms, nor the bewitching accent of her voice that murmur'd Love half mother'd in her Sighs, nor all my Love, my va, my mighty paion, could call my fugitive vigor back again: Oh no, the more I look --- The more I touch'd and aw, the more I was undone. Oh pity me my too too lovely Maid, do not

[ 185 ] revile the faults which you alone create. Conider all your Charms at once expos'd, conider every ene about me ravit, o'recome with joys too mighty to be upported: No wonder if I fell a ameful acrifice to the fond Deity, conider how I waited, how I rove, and ill burnt on and every tender touch ill added fuel to the vigorous Fire; which by your delay conum'd it elf in burning. I want Philoophy to make this out, or faith to fix my unhappines on any chance or natural accident, but this my Charming Silvia I am ure, that had I lov'd you les, I'd been les wretched: Nor had we parted Silvia on o ill terms, nor had I left you with an opinion o diadvantagious for Lyander, but for that unhappy noie at your Chamber door, which alarming your fear, occaion'd your recovery from that dear

[ 186 ] trance, to which Love and oft deire had reduc'd you and me from the mo tormenting ilent Agony that diappointed joy ever poe a fond expeing heart with. Oh Heavens to have my Silvia in my power, Favour'd by ilence, night, and afe retreat! then, then, to lye a tame cold igher only, as if my Silvia gave that Aignation alone by ealth, undre, all looe and languiing, fit for the mighty buines of the Night, only to hear me prattle, ee me gaze, or tell her what a pretty ight it was to ee the Moon ine through the dancing Boughs. O Damn my harden'd dullnes, --- But no more, --- I am all fire and madnes at the thought, --- But I was aying, Silvia, we both recover'd then when the noie alarm'd us. I long to know whether you think we were betray'd, for on that knowledge res a mighty part of

[ 187 ] my deiny, I hope we are not, by an accident that befell me at my going away, which (but for my untimely force of leaving my lovely Silvia, which gave me pains inupportable) would have given me great diverion. You know our fear of being dicover'd, occaioned my diguie, for you found it neceary I ould depart, your fear had o prevail'd and that in Melinda's Night Gown and Head dres; thus attir'd with much ado, I went and left my oul behind me, and finding no body all along the Gallery, nor in my paage from your apartment into the Garden, I was a thouand times about to return to all my joys; when in the mid of this almo ended dipute, I aw by the light of the Moon (which was by good fortune under a Cloud and could not diinly dire the ight) a man taking towards me with cautious peed,

[ 188 ] which made me advance with the more hae to recover the Grove, believing to have ecap'd him under the Covert of the Trees; for retreat I could not without betraying which way I went; but ju at the entrance of the Thicket, he turning ort made up to me, and I perceiv'd it Monieur the Count, who taking me for Melinda who it eems he expeed, caught hold of my Gown as I would have pas'd him, and Cry'd, Now Melinda I ee you are a Maid of Honour, --- Come retire with me into the Grove where I have a preent of a heart and omething ele to make you, that will be of more advantage to you than that of Alexis though omething younger. --- I all confounded knew not what to reply, nor how, le he ould find his miake, at lea if he he dicover'd not who I was: Which ilence gave him occaion to go on,

[ 189 ] which he did in this manner; What not a word Melinda, or do you deign I all take your ilence for conent? If o, come my pretty Creature, let us not loe the hour Love has given us; at this he would have advanc'd, leading me by the hand which he pre and ki very amorouly: Judg my Adorable Silvia in what a fine condition your Lyander was then in. What ould I do? to go had diappointed him wore than I was with thee before; not to go, betray'd me: I had much adoe to hold my Countenance, and unwilling to peak, while I was thus imployed in thought, Monieur --- Pulling me (eager of joys to come,) and I holding back, he op'd and cry'd, ure Melinda you came not hither to bring me a Denial. I then reply'd, whipering, --- Softly, Sir for Heavens ake (weetning my voice as much as poible) conider

[ 190 ] I'm a Maid, and would not be dicover'd for the world. Who can dicover us? reply'd my Lover, what I take from thee all never be mi, not by Alexis himelf upon thy Wedding Night; --- Come --- Sweet Child come: --- With that I pull'd back and whiper'd --- Heavens, would you make a Mires of me? --- Says he --- A Mires what would thou be a Cherubin? Then I reply'd as before --- I am no Whore, Sir, --- No crys he, but I can quickly make thee one, I have my Tools about me Sweet-heart, therefore let's loe no time but fall to work: this la raillery from the brik old Gentleman, had in pight of reolution almo made me bur out into loud Laughter, when he took more gravity upon him, and cry'd --- Come, come Melinda, why all this fooli argument at this hour in this place, and after o much erious

[ 191 ] Courtip, believe me I'l be kind to thee for ever; with that he clapt fifty Guinnies in a Pure into one hand, and omething ele that all be nameles into the other, preents that had both been worth Melinda's acceptance: All this while was I udying an evaion, at la to orten my pleaant adventure, looking round, I cry'd oftly, are you ure, Sir, we are afe --- For Heavens ake ep towards the Garden door and ee, for I would not be dicover'd for the world, --- Nor I cry'd he --- But do not fear, all's afe: --- However ee (whiper'd I) that my fear may not diurb your joys. With that he went toward the Houe, and I lipping into the Grove got immediately into the Meadow, where Alexis waited my coming with Brilljard, o I left the expeing Lover I uppoe ranging the Grove for his fled Nimph, and I doubt

[ 192 ] will fall heavy on poor Melinda, who all have the Guinneys either to reore or keep as e and the angry Count can agree: I leave the management of it to her wit and condu. This account I thought neceary to give my Charmer, that e might prepare Melinda for the aault, who underanding all that paed between us, may o dipoe of matters, that no dicovery may happen by miake, and I know my Silvia and e can find a thouand excues for the uppos'd Melinda's flight. But my Adorable Maid, my buines here was not to give an account of my Adventure only, nor of my ravings, but to tell my Silvia on what my life depends; which is, in a permiion to wait on her again this inuing night; make no excue, for if you do, by all I adore in Heaven and Earth, I'll end my life here where I receiv'd it. I'll

[ 193 ] ay no more, nor give your Love inruions, but wait impatiently here the Life or Death of your

Lyander.

'Tis Six a Clock, and yet my eys have not clos'd themelves to leep: Alexis and Brilljard give me hopes of a kind return to this, and have brought their Flute and Violin to charm me into a lumber: If Silvia love, as I am ure e does, e'll wake me with a dear conent to ee me, if not, I only wake to leep for ever.

[ 194 ]

To my fair Charmer.

When I had eal'd the inclos'd, my Page whom I had order'd to come to me with an account of any buines extraordinary, is this Morning arriv'd with a Letter from Ceario, which I have ent here inclos'd, that my Silvia may ee how little I regard the world, or the mighty revolution in hand; when et in competition with the lea hope of beholding her adorable face, or hearing her Charming Tongue when it whipers the oft diates of her tender heart into my ravi'd oul; one moments joy like that urmounts an age of dull Empire. No, let the buy unregarded Rout peri, the Caue fall or and alone for me: Give me but Love, Love and my Silvia; I ak no

[ 195 ] more of Heaven; to which va joy could you but imagine (Oh wondrous Miracle of Beauty!) how poor and little I eeem the valued trifles of the world, you would in return contemn your part of it, and live with me in ilent Shades for ever. Oh! Silvia, what ha thou this night to add to the Soul of thy

Philander!

[ 196 ]

To the Count of ---

I'le allow you, my Dear, to be very fond of o much Beauty as the world mu own adorns the Lovely Silvia I'll, permit Love too to Rival me in your heart, but not out-rival Glory; ha then my Dear to the advance of that, make no delay, but with the Mornings dawne, let me find you in my Arms, where I have omething that will urprize you to relate to you: You were la night expeed at --- It behoves you to give no Umbrage to Perons who's Intere renders 'em enough jealous. We have two new Advancers come in of Youth and Money, teach 'em not negligence; be careful and let nothing hinder you from taking Hore immediately,

[ 197 ] as you value the repoe and fortune of

My Dear,

Your Ceario.

I call'd la night on you, and your Page following me to my Coach, whiper'd me --- if I had any earne buines with you, he knew where to find you; I oon imagin'd where, and bid him call within an hour for this, and po with it immediately, though dark.

[ 198 ]

To Philander.

Ah! what have I done Philander, and where all I hide my guilty bluing face? Thou ha undone my eternal quiet, Oh thou ha ruin'd my everlaing repoe, and I mu never, never look abroad again: Cure on my face that fir debauch'd my Vertue, and taught thee how to Love! Cure on my tempting youth, my ape, my Air, my Eyes, my Voice, my Hands, and every charm that did contribute to my fatal love, a laing Cure on all --- But thoe of the adorable Philander, and thoe --- even in this raging Minute, my furious paion dares not approach with an indecent thought: No, they are acred all, Madnes it elf would pare 'em, and ould thou now behold me as I it, my Hair dievel'd, Rul'd

[ 199 ] and diorder'd, my Eyes bedewing every word I write, when for each Letter I let fall a tear; then (pre with thought) arting, I dropt my Pen, and fall to rave anew, and tear thoe Garments whoe looe negligence help'd to betray me to my ameful ruine, wounding my brea, but want the reolution to wound it as I ought; which when I but propoe, Love ays the thought, raging and wild as 'tis, the Conqueror checks it, with whipering only Philander to my oul; the dear Name calmes me to an eaines, gives me the Pen into my trembling hand, and I purue my ilent oft complaint: Oh! ould thou ee me thus, in all thee udden dierent change of Paions, thou would ay Philander I were mad indeed; Madnes it elf can find no ranger motions: And I would calmly ak thee, for I am calm again, K4

[ 200 ] how comes it my adorable Philander, that thou can poes a Maid with o much Madnes? who art thy elf a miracle of oftnes, all weet and all erene, the mo of Angel in thy compoition that ever mingled with humanity; the very words fall o gently from thy tongue, are utter'd with a Voice o raviingly oft, a tone o tender and o full of Love, 'twould charm even frenzy, calm rude diraion, and wildnes wou'd become a ilent Liener; there's uch a weet erenity in thy face, uch innocence and oftnes in thy eyes, ould deart Savages, but gaze on thee, ure they would forget their native fore wildnes, and be inpir'd with eay Gentlenes: Mo certainly this God-like power thou ha. Why then? Oh tell me in the Agony of my oul, why mu thoe charms that bring Tranquility

[ 201 ] and peace to all, make me alone a wild, uneemly raver? Why has it contrary ees on me? Oh! all I a and ay is perfe madnes: Yet this is the lea unaccountable part of my mo wretched Story; --- Oh! I mu ner'e behold thy Lovely face again, for if I ould, ure I ould blu my oul away, no, no, I mu not, nor ever more believe thy dear deluding Vows: Never thy charming perjur'd Oaths, after a violation like to this. Oh Heauen, what have I done? Yet by that Heaven I wear I dare not ak my oul, le it inform me how I was to blame, unles that fatal Minute would inru me how to revenge my wrongs upon my heart, my fond betraying heart, --- Depair and Madnes eize me; darknes and horror hide me from humane ight, after an eaines like K5

[ 202 ] this; --- What to yield, --- To yield my Honour! Betray the ecrets of my Virgin wies --- My new deires; my unknown ameful flame, --- Hell and Death! Where got I o much confidence? Where learnt the harden'd and unbluing folly? To wi was uch a fault, as is a crime unpardonable to own; to ew deire is uch a in in vertue as mu deerve reproach from all the world; but I, unlucky I, have not only betray'd all thee, but with a tranport void of ene and ame, I yield to thy Armes, --- I'll not indure the thought, --- By Heaven! I cannot; there's omething more than rage that animates that thought: ome Magick Spell that in the mid of all my ene of Shame keeps me from true repentance; this angers me, and makes me know my Honour

[ 203 ] but a fantom: Now I could cure again my Youth and Love; but Oh! when I have done, alas Philander, I find my elf as guilty as before; I cannot make one firm reolve again the, or if I do, when I conider thee, they weigh not all one lovely Hair of thine. 'Tis all in vain the Charming Caue remains Philander's ill as lovely as before, 'tis him I mu remove from my fond Eyes and heart, him I mu bani from my touch, my mell, and every other ene; by Heaven! I cannot bear the mighty preure, I cannot ee his Eyes, and touch his Hands, mell the perfume every Pore of his breaths forth, ta thy oft kies; hear thy Charming Voice, but I am all on flame: No, 'tis thee I mu exclaim on, not my Youth; 'tis they debauch my oul, no natural propenity in me to yield, or

[ 204 ] to admit of uch deruive fires. Fain I would put it o, but 'twill not do, I am the Aggreor ill; ele, why is not every living Maid undone, that does but touch or ee thee? Tell me why? No, the fault's in me, and thou art innocent. --- Were but my Soul les delicate, were it les enible of what it loves and likes in thee, I yet were dully happy; but Oh there is a nicety there o charm'd, o apprehenive of thy Beauties, as has betray'd me to unre for ever: --- Yet omething I will do to tame this lewd Betrayer of my right, and it all plead no more in thy behalf; no more, no more dipere the joys which it conceives through every Vein, (cold and inenible by nature) to kindle new deires there. --- No more all fill me with unknown curoity; no, I

[ 205 ] will in pight of all the Perfumes that dwell about thee, in pight of all the Arts thou ha of Looking, of Speaking and of Touching; I will I ay aume my native temper, I will be calm, be cold, and unconcern'd, as I have been to all the world, --- But to Philander, --- The Almighty Power he has is unaccountable; --- By yonder breaking day that opens in the Ea, opens to ee my ame, --- I wear --- By that great ruler of the day, the Sun, by that Almighty power that rules them both, I wear --- I wear Philander, Charming Lovely Youth! Thou art the fir e're kindl'd oft deires about my oul, thou art the fir that ever did inform me that there was uch a ort of wi about me. I thought the vanity of being belov'd, made up the greate part of the atifaion; 'twas joy to

[ 206 ] ee my Lovers igh about me, adore and praie me, and increae my Pride by every look, by every word and aion; and him I fancy'd be I favour'd mo, and he pa for the happy fortune; him I have uer'd too, to kis and pres me, to tell me all his Tale of Love, and igh, which I would lien to with Pride and Pleaure, permitted it, and mil'd him kind returns; nay, by my life, then thought I lov'd him too, thought I could have been content to have pa my life at this gay rate, with this fond hoping Lover, and thought no farther than of being great, having rich Coaches, owing Equipage, to pas my hours in dreing, in going to the Opera's and the Tower, make Viits where I li, be een at Balls; and having ill the vanity to think the men would Gaze and Langui where

[ 207 ] I came, and all the Women envy me, I thought no farther on --- But thou Philander ha made me take new meaures, I now can think of nothing but of thee, I loath the ound of Love from any other voice, and Converation makes my oul impatient, and does not only dull me into Melancholly, but perplexes me out of all humour, out of all patient uerance, and I am never o well pleas'd when from Philander, as when I am retir'd, and cure my Charaer and Figure in the world, becaue it permits me not to prevent being viited, one thought of thee, is worth the worlds injoyment, I hate to dres, I hate to be agreable to any Eyes but thine; I hate the noie of Equipage and Crowds, and would be more content to live with thee in ome

[ 208 ] lone aded Cottage, than be a Queen, and hinder'd by that Grandure one moments converation with Philander: Mai thou depie and loath me, a Cure the greate that I can invent, if this be any thing but real hone truth. No, no Philander, I find I never lov'd till now, I underood it not, nor knew not what thoe Sighs and Preings meant which others gave me; yet every peaking glance thy Eyes put on inform my oul what 'tis they plead and langui for: If you but touch my hand, my breath grows faint and ort, my blood glows in my face, and runs with an unuual warmth through every vein, and tells my heart what 'tis Philander ailes, when he falls ighing on my Boom; oh then I fear, I anwer every look, and every igh and touch, in the ame ilent but intelligible

[ 209 ] Language, and underood I fear to well by thee: 'Till now I never fear'd Love as a Criminal. Oh tell me not miaken Fooli Maids, true Love is innocent, ye cold, ye dull, ye unconidering Lovers; though I have often heard it from the Grave and Wie, and preacht myelf that Dorine: I now renounce it all, 'tis fale, by Heaven! 'tis fale, for now I Love, and know it all a fiion; yes, and love o, as never any Woman can equal me in Love, my oul being all compos'd (as I have often aid) of ofter Materials. Nor is it fancy ets my Rates on Beauty, there's an intrinick value in thy Charms, which urely none but I am able to underand, and to thoe that view thee not with my judging Eyes, uglines fancy'd wou'd appear the ame, and pleae

[ 210 ] as well. If all could love or judge like me, why does Philander pas o unregarded by a thouand Women, who never igh'd for him? What makes Mertilla who poees all, looks on thee, feels thy Kies, hears thee peak, and yet wants ene to know how ble e is; 'tis want of judgment all, and how, and how can e that judges ill, Love well?

Granting my paion equal to its obje; you mu allow it infinite, and more in me than any other Woman, by how much more my Soul is compos'd of tendernes; and yet I ay I own, for I may own it, now Heaven and you are Witnes of my ame, I own with all this love, with all this paion, o va, o true and o unchangeable, that I have Wies, new unwonted Wies; at every thought of thee, I find

[ 211 ] a range diorder in my blood, that pants and burns in every Vein, and makes me blu, and igh, and grow impatient, aam'd and angry; but when I know it the ees of Love, I'm reconcil'd, and wi and igh anew, but when I it and Gaze upon thy Eyes, thy Languiing thy Lovely dying Eyes; play with thy oft white hand, and lay my glowing Cheek to thine. --- Oh God! What Language can expres my tranport, all that is tender, all that is oft deire eizes every trembling Limb, and 'tis with pain conceal'd. --- Yes, yes Philander, 'tis the fatal truth, ince thou ha found it, I confes it too, and yet I love thee dearly; long, long it was that I eay'd to hide the guilty flame, if Love be guilt; for I confes I did diemble a coldnes

[ 212 ] which I was not Mires of: there lyes a Womans Art, there all her boaed Vertue, it is but well diembling, and no more. --- But mine alas is gone, for ever fled; this, this feable guard that ould ecure my Honour, thou ha betray'd and left it quite defenceles. Ah what's a Womans Honour when 'tis o poorly guarded: No wonder that you conquer with uch eae, when we are only afe by the mean arts of bae diimulation, an ill as ameful as that to which we fall. Oh illy refuge! What fooli nonence, fond cuom can perwade; yet o it is, and e that breaks her Laws, loes her fame, her honour and eeem. Oh Heavens! how quickly lo it is! Give me ye Powers, my fame, and let me be a fool; let me retain my

[ 213 ] vertue and my Honour, and be a dull inenible --- But Oh where is it? I have lo it all; 'tis irrecoverably lo: yes, yes, ye charming perjur'd man, 'tis gone, and thou ha quite undone me. --- What though I lay extended on my Bed, undre, unapprehenive of my fate, my Boom looe and eaie of exces, my Garments ready, thin, and wantonly put on, as if they would with little force ubmit to the fond raying hand: What then Philander, mu you take the advantage? Mu you be perjur'd becaue I was tempting? 'Tis true, I let you in by ealth by night, whoe ilent darknes favour'd your Treachery; but Oh Philander were not your Vows as binding by a glimmering Taper, as if the Sun with all his

[ 214 ] Awful light had been a looker on. I urg'd your Vows as you pre on, --- But Oh I fear it was in uch a way o faintly and o feebly I upbraided you, as did but more advance your perjuries. Your rength encreas'd, but mine alas declin'd; till I quite fainted in your Arms, left you triumphant Lord of all: No more my faint denials do perwade, no more my trembling hands rei your force, unguarded lay the treaure which you toil'd for, betray'd and yielded to the Lovely Conqueror. --- But Oh tormenting, --- When you aw the ore, and found the Prie no richer, with what contempt, (yes, fale dear man.) with what contempt you view'd the unvalu'd Trophy: What! depis'd, was all you call a Heaven of Joy and Beauty expos'd to

[ 215 ] view, and then negleed? Were all your Prayers heard, your wies granted, and your toiles rewarded, the trembling Viim ready for the acrifice, and did you want Devotion to perform it, and did you thus receive the expeed bleing --- Oh --- By Heaven I'll never ee the more, and 'twill be charity to thee, for thou ha no excue in ore that can convince my opinion that I am hated, loath'd, --- I cannot bear that thought, --- Or if I do, it all only erve to fortify my fixt reolve never to ee thee more, --- And yet I long to hear thy fale excue, let it be quickly then; 'tis my didain invites thee --- To rengthen which, there needs no more than that you let me hear thy poor defence. --- But 'tis a tedious time to that low hour

[ 216 ] wherein I dare permit thee, but hope not to incline my oul to love: No I'm yet afe if I can op but here, but here be wie reolve and be my elf.

Silvia.

[ 117 ]

To Philander.

As my Page was coming with the inclos'd he met Alexis at the gate with yours, and who would not depart without an anwer to it; --- to go or ay is the Queion. Ah, Philander! why do you pres a heart too ready to yield to Love and you! alas, I fear you gues too well my anwer, and your own Soul might ave me the bluing trouble of a reply. I am plung'd in pa hope of a retreat, and ince my fate has pointed me out for ruine, I cannot fall more gloriouly. Take then, Philander, to your dear Arms a Maid that can no longer rei, who is diarm'd of all defenive power: She yields, e yields, and does confes it too; and ure e mu be more than mortal that can hold

[ 218 ] out again thy charms and vows. Since I mu be undone and give all away, I'll do it generouly, and corn all mean reerves: I will be brave in Love, and lavi all; nor all Philander think I Love him well unles I do. Take, charming Vior, then, what your own merits, and what Love has given you; take, take at la the dear reward of all your ighs and tears, your vows and uerings. But ince, Philander, 'tis an Age to night, and till the approach of thoe dear ilent hours, thou know I dare not give thee admittance: I do conjure thee go to Ceario, whom I find too preing, not to believe the concerns great; and o jealous I am of thy dear afety, that every thing alarms my fears; oh! atifie 'em then and go, 'tis early yet, and if you take hore immediately, you will be there by

[ 219 ] eight this morning; go, I conjure you; for though 'tis an unpeakable atifaion to know you are o near me, yet I prefer your afety and honour to all coniderations ele. You may oon dipatch your aairs, and render your elf time enough on the place appointed, which is where you la night waited, and 'twill be at lea eight at night before 'tis poible to bring you to my arms. Come in your Chariot, and do not heat your elf with riding; have a care of me and my life in the preervation of all I love. Be ure you go, and do not, my Philander, out of a punilio of Love, negle your dear afety --- Go then, Philander, and all the Gods of Love preerve and attend thee on thy way, and bring thee afely back to

Silvia.

[ 220 ]

To Silvia.

Oh, thou mo charming of the Sex! thou lovely dear delight of my tranported Soul! thou everlaing treaure of my heart! what ha thou done? given me an over joy, that fails but very little of performing what griefs exces had almo fini'd before: Eternal bleings on thee, for a goodnes o divine, Oh, thou mo excellent and deare of thy ex! I know not what to do or what to ay. I am not what I was, I do not peak, nor walk, nor think as I was wont to do; ure the exces of joy is far above dull ene, or formal thinking, it cannot ay for ceremonious method. I rave with pleaure, rage with the dear thought of coming extaie. Oh Silvia, Silvia, Silvia!

[ 221 ] my oul, my vital bloud, and without which I could as well ubi --- Oh, my adorable, my Silvia! methinks I pres thee, kis thee, hear thee igh, behold thy eyes, and all the wondrous beauty of thy face; a olemn joy has pread it elf through every vein, through every enible artery of my heart, and I can think of nothing but of Silvia, the lovely Silvia, the blooming flowing Silvia; and all I ee thee? all I touch thy hands, and pres thy dear, thy charming body in my arms, and tae a Thouand joys, a thouand raviments? oh God! all I? oh Silvia, ay; but thou ha aid enough to make me mad, and I forgetting of thy afety and my own, all bring thy wild adoring lave to Bellfont, and throw him at thy feet, to pay his humble gratitude for this great condecention, L3

[ 222 ] this va bounty.

Ah, Silvia! how all I live till night? and you impoe too cruelly upon me in conjuring me to go to Ceario; alas! does Silvia know to what e expoes her Philander? whoe joy is o tranporting great, that when he comes into the grave Cabal he mu betray the ory of his heart, and in lieu of the mighty buines there in hand be raving ill on Silvia, telling his joy to all the amazed lieners, and anwering queions that concern our great aair, with omething of my love; all which will pas for madnes and undoe me: no, give me leave to rave in ilence, and uneen among the trees, they'll humour my dieae, anwer my murmuring joy, and Echo's flatter it, repeat thy name, repeat that Silvia's mine! and never hurt her fame; while the Cabals, buines

[ 223 ] and noiie Town will add confuion to my preent tranport, and make me mad indeed: no, let me alone, thou acred lovely creature, let me be calm and quiet here, and tell all the inenibles I meet in the woods what Silvia has this happy minute dein'd me: Oh, let me record it on every bark, on every Oak and Beech, that all the world may wonder at my fortune, and bles the generous maid; let it grow up to Ages that all come, that they may know the ory of our loves, and how a happy youth, they call'd Philander, was once o ble by Heaven as to poes the charming, the ador'd and lov'd by all, the glorious Silvia! a Maid, the mo divine that ever grac'd a ory; and when the Nymphs would look for an example of love and conancy, let them point out Philander to their doubted L4

[ 224 ] Swains, and cry, ah! love but as the young Philander did, and then be fortunate, and then reap all your wies: and when the Shepherd would upbraid his Nymph, let him but cry, --- ee here what Silvia did to ave the young Philander; but oh! there never will be uch another Nymph as Silvia; Heaven form'd but one to ew the world what Angels are, and e was form'd for me, yes e was --- in whom I wou'd not quit my glorious intere to reign a monarch here, or any boed gilded thing above! take all, take all, ye Gods, and give me but this happy coming night! Oh, Silvia, Silvia! by all thy promis'd joys I am undone if any accident ould ravi this night from me: this night! no not for a leae of years to all eternity would I throw thee away: Oh! I am all flame,

[ 225 ] all joyfull fire and oftnes; methinks 'tis Heaven wheree'er I look around me, air where I tread, and raviing Muick when I peak, becaue 'tis all of Silvia --- let me alone, oh let me cool a little, or I all by a too exces of joyfull thought loe all my hop'd for blis. Remove a little from me, go, my Silvia, you're o exceive weet, o wondrous dazling, you pres my enes even to pain --- away --- let me take air --- let me recover breath: oh let me lay me down beneath ome cooling ade, near ome refreing cryal murmuring pring, and fan the gentle air about me. I uocate, I faint, with this cloe loving, I mu allay my joy or be undone --- I'll read thy cruel Letters, or I'll think of ome ad melancholy hour wherein thou ha dimis'd me deparing from L5

[ 226 ] thy preence: or while you pres me now to be gone with o much earnenes, you have ome Lover to receive and entertain; perhaps 'tis only for the vanity to hear him tell his naueous paion to you, breath on your lovely face, and daub your Garments with his fulome imbrace: but oh, by Heaven, I cannot think that though! and thou ha worn thou can not uer it --- if I ou'd find thee fale --- but 'tis impoible --- oh! ou'd I find Focario viit thee, him whom thy Parents favour, I ou'd undo you all, by Heaven I ou'd --- but thou ha worn, what need Philander more; yes, Silvia thou ha worn and call'd Heaven's vengeance down whene'er thou gave a look, or a dear mile in love to that pretending Fop; yet from his mighty fortune there is danger in him --- what

[ 227 ] makes that thought torment me now? --- begon, for Silvia loves me and will preerve my life ---

I am not able, my adorable Charmer, to obey your commands of going from the ight of happy Bellfont; no, let the great wheel of the va deign roul on --- or for ever and ill, for I'll not aid its motion to leave the mightier buines of my love unfini'd: no, let fortune and the duller Fools toil on --- for I'll not bate a minute of my joys with thee to ave the world, much les o poor a parcell of it; and ure there is more olid pleaure ev'n in thee expeing hours I wait to natch my blis, than to be Lord of all the univere without it: then let me wait my Silvia, in thoe melancholy ades that part Bellfont from Dorillus his farm; perhaps my Silvia may walk that way o unattended that we might meet and

[ 228 ] and loe our elves for a few moments in thoe intricate retreats: Ah, Silvia! I am dying with that thought --- Oh Heavens! what cruel deiny is mine? whoe fatal circumances do not permit me to own my paion, and lay claim to Silvia, to take her without controul to ades or Palaces to live for ever with her, to gaze for ever on her, to eat, to loll, to rie, to play, to leep, to a o'er all the pleaures and the joys of life with her --- But 'tis in vain I rave, in vain employ my elf in the fools barren buines, Wiing, --- this thought has made me ad as death: Oh, Silvia! I can ne'r be truly happy --- adieu, employ thy elf in writing to me, and remember my life bears date but only with thy faith and Love.

Philander.

Try, my Adorable, what you can do to meet me in the Wood this afternoon for there I'll live to day.

[ 229 ]

To Philander.

Obinate Philander, I conjure you by all your vows, by all your acred love, by thoe dear hours this happy night deign'd in favour of you, to go without delay to Ceario; 'twill be unafe to diobey a Prince in his jealous circumances. The fatigue of the journey cannot be great, and you well know the torment of my fears; oh! I all never be happy or think you afe till you have quitted this fatal intere: Go, my Philander --- and remember whatever toiles you take will be rewarded at night in the Arms of

Silvia.

[ 230 ]

To Silvia.

Whatever toiles you take all be rewarded in the arms of Silvia! --- By Heaven, I am inpired to a wonders: Yes, Silvia, yes, my adorable Maid, I am gone, I fly as wift as lightning, or the oft darts of love ot from thy charming eyes, and I can hardly ay to ay --- adieu. ---

To the Lady ---

Dear Child,

Long foreeeing the miery whereto you mu arrive by this fatal correpondence with my unhappy Lord, I have often, with tears and prayers, implor'd you to decline o dangerous a paion;

[ 231 ] I have never yet acquainted our parents with your mifortunes, but I fear I mu at la make ue of their Authority for the prevention of your ruine.

'Tis not, my deare Child, that part of this unhappy ory that relates to me, that grieves me, but purely that of thine. Conider, oh young noble Maid, the infamy of being a Proitute! and yet the a it elf in this fatal Amour is not the greate in, but the manner which carries an unuual horrour with it; for 'tis a Brother too, my Child, as well as a lover, one that has lain by thy unhappy Sier's ide o many tender years, by whom he has a dear and lovely o-pring, by which he has more fixt himelf to thee by relation and blood: Conider this, oh fond heedles girl! and uer not a momentary joy to rob thee of the eternal fame, me of my eternal

[ 232 ] repoe, and fix a brand upon our noble houe, and o undoe us all. --- Alas, conider after an aion o amefull, thou mu obcure thy elf in ome remote corner of the world, where honey and honour never are heard of: No thou can not ew thy face, but 'twill be pointed at for omething monrous: for a hundred ages may not produce a ory o leudly infamous and looe as thine. Perhaps (fond as you are) you imagin the ole joy of being belov'd by him, will attone for thoe aronts and reproaches you will meet with in the cenuring world: But Child, remember and believe me, there is no laing faith in in; he that has broke his Vows with Heaven and me, will be again perjur'd to Heaven and thee, and all the world! --- he once thought me as lovely, lay at my feet, and

[ 233 ] igh'd away his oul, and told uch pityous ories of his uerings, uch ad, uch mournfull tales of his departed re, his broken heart and everlaing Love, that ure I thought it had been a in not to have credited his charming perjuries; in uch a way he wore, with uch a grace he igh'd, o artfully he mov'd, o tenderly he look'd. Alas, dear Child, then all he aid was new, unuual with him, never told before, now 'tis a beaten road, 'tis learn'd by heart, and eaily addre to any fond believing woman, the tatter'd, worn-out fragments of my Trophies, the dregs of what I long ince drain'd from o his fickle heart; then it was fine, then it was brik and new, now pall'd and dull'd by being repeated often. Think, my Child, what your viorious beauty me[rit]s, the viim of a heart unconquer'd

[ 234 ] by any but your eyes: Alas, he has been my captive, my humble whining lave, didain to put him on your fetters now; alas, he can ay no new thing of his heart to thee, 'tis love at econd hand, worn out, and all its gaudy luer tarni't; beides, my Child, if thou had no religion binding enough, no honour that could ay thy fatal coure, yet nature ould oblige thee, and give a check to the unreaonable enterprie. The griefs and dionour of our noble Parents, who have been eminent for vertue and piety, oh uer 'em not to be regarded in this cenuring world as the mo unhappy of all the race of old nobility; thou art the darling child, the joy of all, the la hope left, the refuge of their orrow; for they, alas, have had but unkind ars to influence their unadvis'd o-pring: no want

[ 235 ] of vertue in their education, but this la blow of fate mu rike 'em dead: Think, think of this, my Child, and yet retire from ruine; hae, fly from deruion which purues thee fa; hae, hae, and ave thy parents and a ier, or what's more dear, thy fame; mine has already receiv'd but too many deperate wounds, and all through my unkind Lord's growing paion for thee, which was mo fatally founded on my ruine, and nothing but my ruine could advance it; and when my Sier, thou ha run thy race, made thy elf loath'd, undone and infamous as hell, depis'd, corn'd and abandoned by all, lampoon'd, perhaps dieas'd; this faithles man, this caue of all will leave thee too, grow weary of thee, naueated by ue, he may perhaps conider what ins, what evils, and what inconveniences

[ 236 ] and ames thou' brought him to, and will not be the la all loath and hate thee: For though youth fanie it have a mighty race to run of pleaing vice and vanity, the coure will end, the goal will be arriv'd to at the la, where they will ighing and, look back and view the length of pretious time they've fool'd away; when travers'd o'er with honour and dicretion, how glorious were the journey, and with what joy the wearied traveller lies down and baks beneath the ades that ends the happy coure.

Forgive, dear Child, this advice and perue it, 'tis the ee of my pity, not anger, nor could the name of rival ever yet have power to bani that of ier from my oul --- farewell, remember me; pray Heaven thou ha not this night made a forfeit of thy honour

[ 237 ] and that this which comes from a tender bleeding heart may have the fortune to inpire thee with grace to avoid all temptations for the future, ince they mu end in orrow, which is the eternal prayer of,

Deare Child,
Your aeionate Sier.

To Philander.

Ak me not, my deare Brother, the reaon of this udden change, ak me no more from whence proceeds this range coldnes, or why this alteration; it is enough my deiny has not decreed me for Philander: Alas, I ee my errour, and looking round about me, find nothing but approaching horrour and confuion

[ 238 ] in my puruit of love: Oh whither was I going? to what dark paths, what everlaing ades had miling love betray'd me had I puru'd him farther; but I at la have ubdu'd his force, and the fond Charmer all no more renew his arts and flatteries; for I'm reolv'd as Heaven, as fixt as fate and death, and I conjure you, trouble my repoe no more, for if you do (regardles of my honour, which if you lov'd you wou'd preerve) I'll do a deed all free me from your importunities, that all amaze and cool your vitious flame: no more --- remember you have a noble wife, companion of your vows, and I have honour, both which are worth preerving, and for which, though you want generous love, you'll find neither that nor courage wanting in

Silvia.

[ 239 ]

To Silvia.

Yes, my adorable Silvia, I will purue you no farther, only for all my pains, for all my uerings, for my tormenting leeples nights, and thoughtfull anxious days; for all my faithles hopes, my fears, my ighs, my prayers and my tears, for my unequall'd and unbound paion, and my unwearied puruits in love, my never dying flame, and laly, for my death; I only beg in recompene for all, this la favour from your pity; That you will deign to view the bleeding wound that pierc'd the true heart that ever fell a acrifice to love: you'll find my body lying beneath that preading Oak, o acred to Philander, ince 'twas there he fir took into his greedy ravi'd oul the dear,

[ 240 ] the oft confeion of thy paion, though now forgotten and negleed all --- make what hae you can, you'll find there retch'd out the mangled carcas of the lo

Philander.

Ah! Silvia, was it for this that I was ent in uch hae away this morning to Ceario? did I for this negle the world, our great aair, and all that Prince's intere, and fly back to Bellfont, on the wings of Love, were in lieu of receiving a dear bleing from thy hand, do I find --- never ee me more --- good Heaven --- but, with my life, all my complaints are ended; only 'twould be ome eae even in death to know what happy Rival 'tis has arm'd thy cruel hand again Philander's heart.

[ 241 ]

To Philander.

Stay, I conjure thee ay thy acrilegious hand; for the lea wound it gives the Lord of all my wies, I'll double on my brea a thouand fold; ay then, by all thy vows, thy love, and all the hopes I wear thou ha this night of a full recompence of all thy pains from yielding Silvia, I do conjure thee ay --- for when the news arrives thou art no more, this poor, this lo, abandon'd heart of mine all fall a viim to thy cruelty: no, live, my Philander I conjure thee, and receive all thou can ak, and all that be given by

Silvia.

[ 242 ]

To Philander.

Oh, my charming Philander! how very ill have you recompenc'd my la oft commands? which were that you ould live: and yet at the ame moment, while you were reading of the dear obligation, and while my Page was waiting your kind return, you deperately expos'd your life to the mercy of this innocent Rival, betraying unadviedly at the ame time, my honour and the ecret of your love, and where to kill or to be kill'd, had been almo equally unhappy: 'twas well my Page told me you diarm'd him in this rancounter --- yet you he ays are wounded, ome acred drops of blood are fallen to earth and lo, the lea of which are pretious enough to ranom captive Queens: oh! hae

[ 243 ] Philander, to my arms for cure, I dy with fear there may be danger --- hae, and let me bath the dear, the wounded part in floods of tears, lay it to my warm lips, and bind it with my torn hair: oh! Philander, I rave with my concern for thee, and am ready to break all laws of decency and duty, and fly, without conidering, to thy uccour, but that I fear to injure thee much more by the dicovery, which uch an unadvis'd abence would make; pray Heaven the unlucky adventure reach not Bellfont; Focario has no reaon to proclaim it, and thou art too generous to boa the conque, and Silvio was the only witnes, and he's as ilent and as ecret as the grave; but why, Philander, was he ent me back without reply? what meant that cruel ilence --- ay, my Philander, will you not M2

[ 244 ] obey me? --- will you abandon me? can that dear tongue be perjur'd? and can you this night diappoint your Silvia? what have I done, oh obinately cruel, irreconcilable --- what, for my fir oence? a little poor reentment and no more? a little faint care of my gaping honour, cou'd that dipleae o much? beides I had a caue, which you all ee; a Letter that wou'd cool loves hotte fires, and turn it to devotion; by Heaven 'twas uch a check --- uch a urprie --- but you your elf all judge if after that, I cou'd ay les than bid eternally farewell to love --- at lea to thee --- but I recanted oon; one ad dear word, one oft reenting line from thee, gain'd love the day again, and I depis'd the cenures of the duller world: yes, yes, and I confes'd you had o'recome, and did this

[ 245 ] merit no reply? I aked the Boy a thouand times what you aid, how and in what manner you received it, chid him, and laid your ilent fault on him, till he with tears convinc'd me, and aid he found you haning to the Grove, --- and when he gave you my commands --- you look'd upon him with uch a edfa, wild and fixt regard, urveying him all o're while you were opening it --- as argu'd ome unuual motion in you; then cried begon. --- I cannot anwer flattery --- good Heaven, what can you mean? but e're he got to the farther end of the Grove, where ill you walk'd a olemn death-like pace, he aw Focario pas him unattended, and looking back, aw your rancounter, aw all that hapned between you, then ran to your aiance, ju as you parted; ill you were roughly M3

[ 246 ] ullen, and neither took notice of his proer'd ervice, nor that you needed it, although you bled apace; he oer'd you his aid to tie your wounds up --- but you reply'd --- begon, and do not trouble me --- Oh, cou'd you imagin I cou'd live with this negle? cou'd you, my Philander? Oh, what wou'd you have me do? if nothing but my death or ruin can uice for my attonement, I'll acrifice either with joy; yes, I'll proclaim my paion aloud, proclaim it at Bellfont, own the dear criminal flame, fly to my Philander's aid and be undone; for thus I cannot, no I will not live, I rave, I langui, faint and dy with pain, ay that you live, oh, ay but that you love, ay you are coming to the Meadow behind the Garden-grove in order to your approach to my Arms: Oh, wear that all

[ 247 ] your Vows are true; oh, wear that you are Silvia's; and in return, I'll wear that I am yours without reerve, whatever fate is dein'd for your

Silvia.

I die with impatience, either to ee or hear from you; I fear 'tis yet too oon for the fir --- oh therefore ave me with the la, or I all rave, and wildly betray all by coming to Dorilus his Farm, or eeking you where e're you cruelly have hid your elf from

Silvia.

[ 248 ]

To Silvia.

Ah, Silvia, how have you in one day deroy'd that repoe I have been deigning o many years, oh, thou fale --- but wondrous fair creature! why did Heaven ordain o much beauty and o much perfidy, o much excellent wit and o much cunning, (things inconient in any but in Silvia) in one divine frame, but to undo Mankind: yes, Silvia thou wert born to Murther more believing men than the unhappy and undone Philander. Tell me, thou charming Hypocrite, why ha thou thus deluded me? why, oh, why was I made the mierable obje of thy fatal Vow breach? What have I done, thou lovely fickle Maid, that thou oud' be my murtherer? and why do thou

[ 249 ] call me from the grave with uch dear oft commands as wou'd awake the very quiet dead, to torture me anew, after my eyes (cure on their fatal ene) were too ure witnees of thy infidelity? Oh, fickle Maid, how much more kind 't had been to have ent me down to earth, with plain heartbreaking truth --- than a mean ubtile falood, that has undone thy credit in my oul: truth, Though 'twere cruel, had been generous in thee, though thou wert perjur'd, fale, forworn --- thou ou'd not have added to it that yet baer in of treachery; you might have been provok'd to have kill'd your friend, but it were bae to ab him unawares, defenceles and unwarn'd; mile in my face and rike me to the heart; ooth me with all the tendere marks of paion --- nay with an invitation too, that M5

[ 250 ] wou'd have gain'd a credit in one that had been jilted o're the world, flatter'd and ruin'd by all thy cozening ex, and all to end me vain and pleas'd away, only to gain a day to entertain another Lover in. Oh, fantaick woman! deruive glorious thing, what needed this deceit? had' thou not with unwonted indury perwaded me to have haed to Ceario, by Heaven, I'd dully liv'd the tedious day in travering the flowry Meads and ilent Groves, laid by ome murmurring pring had igh'd away the often counted hours, and thought on Silvia till the ble minute of my raviing approach to her, had been a fond believing and impos'd on Coxcomb, and ne're had dreamt the treachery, ne're een the nake that bak'd beneath the gay, the miling flowers; ecurely thou had cozen'd me, reap'd thy new

[ 251 ] joys, and made my Rival port at the expence of all my happines: Yes, yes, your hay importunity fir gave me jealouie, made me impatient with Ceario, and excue my elf to him by a hundred inventions; negleed all to haen back, where all my joys, where all my killing fears and torments reided --- but when came --- how was I welcom'd? with your confirming Billet; yes, Silvia, how! let Dorillus inform you, between whoe Arms I fell dead, ame on me, dead --- and the fir thought my Soul conceiv'd when it return'd, was, not to dy in je. I anwer'd your commands, and haned to the Grove, where --- by all that's acred, by thy elf I wear (a dearer oath than heaven and earth can furni me with) I did reolve to die; but oh, how oon my oft my ilent paion turn'd to loud

[ 252 ] rage, rage eaier to be born, to dire depair, to fury and revenge; for there I aw Focario, my young, my fair, my rich and powerfull Rival, he haed through the Grove all warm and glowing from the fair fale ones arms; the blues which thy eyes had kindled were fre upon his cheeks, his looks were parkling with the new blown fire his heart o brikly burnt with, a glad, a peacefull mile dre all his face, trick'd like a Bridegroom, while he perfum'd the air as he pa through it --- none but the man that loves and dotes like me is able to expres my ene of rage: I quickly turn'd the Sword from my own heart to end it to his elevated one, giving him only time to --- draw --- that was the word, and I confes your Spark was wondrous ready, brik with ucces, vain with your new-given favours,

[ 253 ] he only cry'd --- if Silvia be the quarrel --- I am prepar'd --- and he maintain'd your caue with admirable courage, I confes, though chance or fortune luckily gave me his Sword, which I wou'd fain have rendred back, and that way wou'd have died, but he refued to arm his hand anew again the man that had not took advantage of him, and thus we parted: Then 'twas that malice upported me with life, and told me I ou'd corn to dy for o perfidious and o ruinous a creature; but charming and bewitching ill, 'twas then I borrow'd o much calmnes of my leening anger to read the Billet o're your Page had brought me, which melted all the rough remaining part of rage away into tame languiment: Ah, Silvia! this heart of mine was never form'd by Nature to hold out long in ubborn

[ 254 ] ullennes; I am already on the excuing part, and fain wou'd think thee innocent and ju; deceive me prettily, I know thou can, ooth my fond heart, and ak how it cou'd harbour a faithles thought of Silvia --- do --- flatter me, prote a little, wear my Rival aw thee not, ay he was there by chance --- ay any thing; or if thou aw him, ay with how cold a look he was receiv'd --- oh, Silvia, calm my oul, deceive it, flatter it, and I all ill believe and love thee on --- yet oud' thou tell me truth, that thou art fale, by Heaven, I do adore thee o, I ill ou'd love thee on; ou'd I have een thee clap him in thy arms, print kies on his cheeks and lips, and more --- o fondly and o doatingly I love, I think I ou'd forgive thee; for I wear by all the powers that pity frail

[ 255 ] mortality, there is no joy, no life, no Heaven without thee! Be fale, be cruel, perjur'd, infamous, yet ill I mu adore thee; my oul was form'd of nothing but of love, and all that love, and all that oul is Silvia's, but yet ince thou ha fram'd me an excue, be kind and carry it on --- to be deluded well, as thou can do't, will be the ame to innocence as loving; I all not find the cheat: I'll come then --- and lay my elf at thy feet, and eek there that repoe that dear content which is not to be found in this va world beides; though much of my heart's joy thou ha abated, and fixt a adnes in my oul that will not eaily vani --- Oh Silvia, take care of me, for I am in thy power, my life, my fame, my oul are in thy hands, be tender of the viims, and remember if any aion

[ 256 ] of thy life ou'd ew a fading love, that very moment I perceive the change, you all find dead at your feet the abandoned

Philander.

Sad as death, I am going towards the Meadow in order to my approach to Silvia, the World aording no repoe to me, but when I am where the dear Charmer is.

To Philander in the Meadow.

And can you be jealous of me, Philander? I mean o poorly jealous as to believe me capable of falood, of vow-breach, and what's wore, of loving any thing but the adorable Philander?

[ 257 ] Oh, I cou'd not once believe o cruel a thought cou'd have entred into the imaginations of a oul o intirely poe with Silvia, and o great a judge of Love! Abandon me, reproach me, hate me, corn me, whenever I harbour any thing in mine o deruive to my repoe and thine. Can I Philander, give you a greater proof of my paion, of my faithful never-dying paion, than being undone for you? have I any other prope in all this oft adventure, but ame, dionour, reproach, eternal infamy, and everlaing deruion, even of oul and body: I tremble with fear of future puniment; but oh, Love will have no devotion (mixt with his ceremonies) to any other Deity; and yet alas, I might have lov'd another and have been av'd, or any Maid but Silvia might have poes'd

[ 258 ] without damnation. But 'tis a Brother I purue, it is a Sier gives her honour up, and none but Cannace that ever I read in ory, was ever found o wretched as to love a Brother with o criminal a flame, and poibly I may meet her fate. I have a Father too as great as olus, as angry and revengefull where his honour is concern'd; and you found, my deare Brother, how near you were la night to a dicovery in the Garden: I have ome reaon too to fear this night's adventure, for as ill fate would have it (loaded with other thoughts) I told not Melinda of your adventure la night with Monieur the Count, who meeting her early this morning had like to have made a dicovery, if he have not really o already; e rove to un him, but he cried out --- Melinda, you cannot fly

[ 259 ] me by light, as you did la night in the dark --- e turn'd, and beg'd his pardon for neither coming nor deigning to come, ince e had reolv'd never to violate her vows to Alexis; not coming, cried he, not returning again, you meant Melinda, ecure of my heart and my pure, you fled with both: Melinda, whoe honour was now concern'd, and not reminding your ecape in her likenes, bluing e arply denied the fa, and with a didain that had laid aide all repe, left him; nor can it be doubted but he fanied (if e poke truth) there was ome other intrigue of love carried on at Bellfont. Judge, my charming Philander, if I have not reaon to be fearfull of thy afety and my fame, and to be jealous that o wie a Man as Monieur, did not take that parly to be held with a pirit la

[ 260 ] night, or that 'twas an apparition he courted: But if there be no boldnes like that of love, nor courage like that of a lover; ure there never was o great a Heroine as Silvia. Undaunted, I reolve to and the ock of all, ince 'tis impoible for me to leave Philander any doubt or jealouie that I can diipate, and Heaven knows how far I was from any thought of eeing Focario when I urg'd Philander to depart. I have, to clear my innocence, ent thee the Letter I received two hours after thy abence, which falling into my Mothers hands, whoe favourite he is, he had permiion to make his viit; which within an hour he did, but how received by me, be thou the judge, whene're it is thy fate to be oblig'd to entertain ome Woman to whom thy oul has an intire averion: I

[ 261 ] forc'd a complaiance again my nature, endur'd his wrecking courtip with a fortitude that became the great heart that bears thy acred image, as Martyrs do, I uer'd without murmuring or the lea ign of the pain I endur'd --- 'tis below the dignity of my mighty paion to juifie it farther, let it plead its own caue, it has a thouand ways to do't, and thoe all uch as cannot be reied, cannot be doubted, epecially this la proof of acrificing to your repoe the never more to be doubted,

Silvia.

About an hour hence I all expe you to advance.

[ 262 ]

To the Lady ---

Madam,

'Tis not always the divine graces wherewith Heaven has adorn'd your replendent beauties, that can maintain the innumerable conques they gain, without a noble goodnes, which may make you enibly compaionate the poor and forlorn captives you have undone: But, mo fair of your Sex, 'tis I alone that have a deiny more cruel and evere, and find my elf wounded from your very frowns, and ecur'd a lave as well as made one; the very corn from thoe triumphant ars, your eyes, have the ame ees as if they in'd with the continual plendour of raviing miles, and I can no more un their killing influence, than their all-aving

[ 263 ] apes, and I all expire contented, ince I fall by o glorious a Fate; if you will vouchafe to pronounce my doom from that orehoue of perfeion, your mouth, from lips that open like the bluing roe, row'd o're with morning dew, and from a breath weeter than holy incene; in order to which, I approach you, mo excellent beauty with this mo humble petition, that you will deign to permit me to throw my unworthy elf before the Throne of your mercy, there to receive the entence of my life or death, a happines though incomparably too great for o mean a Vaal, yet with that reverence and awe I all receive it, as I wou'd the entence of the Gods, and which I will no more rei than I wou'd the Thunderbolts of Jove, or the revenge of angry Juno: For, Madam,

[ 264 ] my immene paion knows no medium between life and death, and as I never had the preumption to apire to the glory of the fir, I am not o abje as to fear I am wholly depriv'd of the glory of the la; I have too long lain convied, extend your mercy, and put me now out of pain: You have often wreck'd me to confes my Promethian in; pare the cruel Vulture of depair, take him from my heart in pity, and either by killing words, or blaing Lightning from thoe refulgent eyes, pronounce the death of

Madam,

Your admiring lave

Focario.

[ 265 ]

To Silvia.

My everlaing Charmer,

I am convinc'd and pleas'd, my fears are vani't and a Heaven of olid joy is open'd to my view, and I have nothing now in prope but Angel-brightnes, glittering Youth, dazling Beauty, charming Sounds, and raviing Touches, and all around me ecaies of pleaure, unconceivable tranports without concluion; Mahomet never fanied uch a Heaven, not all his Paradie promis'd uch laing felicity, or ever provided there the recompene of uch a Maid as Silvia, uch a bewitching Form, uch oft, uch glorious Eyes, where the Soul peaks and dances, and betrays Loves-ecrets in every killing glance, a Face,

[ 266 ] where every motion, every feature weetly languies, a Neck all-tempting --- and her lovely Brea inviting prees from the eager Lips; uch Hands, uch claping Arms, o white, o oft and lender! no, nor one of all his Heavenly enjoyments, though promis'd years of fainting in one continued ecaie, can make one moments joy with Charming Silvia. Oh, I am wrap't (with bare imagination) with much a vaer pleaure than any other dull appointment can dipence --- Oh, thou bleing ent from Heaven to eae my toils of life! thou acred dear delight of my fond doating heart, oh, whither wilt thou lead me, to what va heights of Love? into extremes as fatal and as dangerous as thoe excees were that rendred me o cold in your opinion. Oh, Silvia, Silvia, have a

[ 267 ] care of me, manage my o'rejoy'd Soul and all its eager paions, chide my fond heart, be angry if I faint upon thy Boom, and do not with thy tender voice recall me, a voice that kills outright, and calls my fleeting Soul out of its habitation: lay not uch charming Lips to my cold Cheeks but let me lie extended at thy feet untouch'd, unigh't upon, unpres'd with kies: Oh, change thoe tender trembling words of Love into rough ounds and noies unconcern'd, and when you ee me dying, do not call my Soul to mingle with thy ighs; yet oud' thou bate one word, one look or tear, by Heaven, I ou'd be mad; oh, never let me live to ee declenion in thy love! no, no, my Charmer, I cannot bear the lea uppos'd decay in thoe dear fondnees of thine; and ure none N2

[ 268 ] e're became a Maid o well, nor ever were receiv'd with adorations like to mine!

Pardon, my adorable Silvia, the ranes of my paion in this rancounter with Focario; I am atified he is too unhappy in your difavour to merit the being o in mine; but 'twas uicient I then aw a joy in his face, a pleas'd gayety in his looks to make me think my rage reaonable and my quarrel ju; by the yle he writes, I dread his Sene les than his Peron; but you, my lovely Maid have aid enough to quit me of my fears for both --- the night comes on --- I cannot call it envious though it rob me of the light that ou'd ai me to fini this, ince it will more gloriouly repay me in a happier place --- come on then, thou ble retreat of Lovers,

[ 269 ] I forgive thy interruptions here, ince thou wilt condu to the Arms of Silvia --- the adoring

Philander.

If you have any commands for me, this Weeder of the Gardens, whom I met going in thither, will bring it back; I wait in the Meadow, and date this from the dear Primroe bank, where I have at with Silvia.

To Philander.
After the happy Night.

'Tis done; yes, Philander, 'tis done, and after that what will not Love and grief oblige me to own to you? Oh, by what inenible degrees a Maid in love may arrive to ay any thing to her Lover without bluing? I

[ 270 ] have known the time, the ble innocent time when but to think I lov'd Philander wou'd have cover'd my face with ame, and to have poke it wou'd have fill'd me with confuion --- have made me Tremble, Blu, and bend my guilty Eyes to Earth, not daring to behold my Charming Conquerour while I made that bafull confeion --- though now I am grown bold in Love, and I have known the time when being at Court, and coming from the Preence, being oer'd ome oicious hand to lead me to my Coach, I have runk back with my averion to your Sex, and have conceal'd my hands in my Pockets to prevent their being touch'd --- a kis wou'd turn my omack, and amorous looks (though they wou'd make me vain) gave me a hate to him that

[ 271 ] ent 'em, and never any Maid reolv'd o much as I to tread the paths of honour, and I had many precedents before me to make me carefull: Thus I was armed with reolution, pride and corn, again all Mankind, but alas, I made no defence again a Brother, but innocently lay expos'd to all his attacks of Love, and never thought it criminal till it kindled a new deire about me. Oh, that I ou'd not dy with ame to own it --- yet ee (I ay) how from one oft degree to another, I do not only confes the amefull truth, but a it too; what, with a Brother --- Oh Heavens! a crime o monrous and o new --- but by all thy Love, by thoe urpriing joys o lately experienc'd --- I never will --- no, no, I never can --- repent it: Oh, incorrigible paion, oh hardned love! at lea I might N4

[ 272 ] have ome remore, ome ighing after my poor departed honour; but why ou'd I diemble with the Powers divine, that know the ecrets of a Soul doom'd to eternal Love? Yet I am mad, I rave and tear my elf, travere my guilty chamber in a diorder'd, but a oft confuion; and often opening the concious curtains, urvey the print where thou and I were la night laid, urveying it with a thouand tender ighs, and kis and pres thy dear foraken ide, imagin over all our olemn joys, every dear tranport, all our raviing repeated blies, then almo fainting, languiing, cry --- Philander! oh, my charming little God! then lay me down in the dear place you pres'd, ill warm and fragrant with the weet remains that thou ha left behind thee on the Pillow, oh, my Soul's joy! my

[ 273 ] dear, eternal pleaure! what oftnes ha thou added to my heart within a few ort hours? but oh, Philander --- if (as I've oft been told) poeion, which makes Women fond and doting, ou'd make thee cold and grow indierent --- if naueated with repeated joy, and having made a full dicovery of all that was but once imaginary, when fancy rendred every thing much finer than experience, oh, how were I undone! for me, by all the inhabitants of Heaven I wear, by thy dear charming elf, and by thy vows --- thou o trancend' all fancy, all dull imagination, all wondring idea's of what Man was to me, that I believe thee more than humane! ome charm divine dwells in thy touches; beides all thee, thy charming look thy love, the beauties that adorn thee, and thy wit, I wear there is a ecret N5

[ 274 ] in Nature that renders thee more dear and fits thee to my Soul; do not ak it me, let it uice 'tis o, and is not to be told; yes, by it I know thou art the man created for my Soul, and he alone that has the power to touch it; my eyes and fancy might have been diverted, I might have favour'd this above the other, prefer'd that face, that wit, or ape, or air --- but to concern my Soul to make that capable of omething more than love, 'twas only neceary that Philander ou'd be form'd, and form'd ju as he is, that ape, that face, that height, that dear proportion; I wou'd not have a feature, not a look, not a hair alter'd, ju as thou art, thou art an Angel to me, and I, without conidering what I am, what I might be, or ought, without conidering the fatal circumances of thy being

[ 275 ] married (a thought that ocks my Soul when e're it enters) or whate're other thought that does concern my happines or quiet, have fixt my Soul to Love and my Philander, to love thee with all thy diadvantages, and glory in my ruine; thee are my firm reolves --- thee are my thoughts. But thou art gone, with all the Trophees of my love and honour, gay with the poils, which now perhaps are unregarded: The myery's now reveal'd, the mighty ecret's known, and now will be no wonder or urprize: But here my vows, by all on which my life depends I wear --- if ever I perceive the lea decay of love in thee if e're thou break' an Oath a vow, a word, if e're I ee repentance in thy face, or coldnes in thy eyes (which Heaven divert) by that bright Heav'n I'll

[ 276 ] dy: you may believe me, ince I had the courage and dur love thee, and after that dur acrifice my fame, loe all to juifie that love, will when a change o fatal all arrive, find courage too to die; yes, dy Philander, aure thy elf I will, and therefore have a care of

Silvia.

To Philander.

Oh, where all I find repoe, where eek a ilent quiet, but in my la retreat the Grave! I ay not this, my deare Philander, that I do, or ever can repent my love, though the fatal ource of all: For already we are betray'd, our race of joys, our coure of

[ 277 ] oln delight is ended e're begun. I chid, alas, at morning's dawn, I chid you to begon, and yet, Heaven knows, I grap'd you fa, and rather would have died than parted with you; I aw the day came on, and cur its buie light, and ill you cried one bleed minute more, before I part with all the joys of life! and hours were minutes then, and day grew old upon us unawares, 'twas all abroad, and had call'd up all the houould pies to pry into the ecrets of our loves, and thou, by ome tale-bearing flatterer, wert een in paing through the Garden; the news was carried to my Father, and a mighty conult has been held in my Mother's apartment, who now refues to ee me, while I poe with Love, and full of wonder at my new change, lull'd with dear contemplation,

[ 278 ] (for I am alter'd much ince yeerday, however thou ha charm'd me) imagining none knew our theft of love, but only Heaven and Melinda: But oh, alas, I had no ooner fini'd this inclos'd, but my Father enter'd my Cabinet, but 'twas with uch a look --- as oon inform'd me, all was betray'd to him; a while he gaz'd on me with fiercenes in his eyes, which o urpriz'd and frighted me, that I, all pale and trembling, threw my elf at his feet; he eeing my diorder, took me up, and fixt o edfa and o ad a look on me, as wou'd have broken any heart but mine, upported with Philander's image; I igh'd and wept --- and ilently attended when the orm ou'd fall, which turn'd into a ower o oft and piercing, I almo died to ee it; at la delivering me a paper --- here,

[ 279 ] (cried he, with a igh and trembling interrupted voice) read what I cannot tell thee. Oh, Silvia, cried he --- thou joy and hope of all my aged years, thou obje of my Dotage, how ha thou brought me to the Grave with orrow? o left me with the Paper in my hand: Speechles unmov'd a while I ood, till he awak'd me by new ighs and cries; for paing through my Chamber by chance, or by deign, he ca his melancholy eyes towards my Bed, and aw the dear diorder there, unuual --- then cried --- Oh, wretched Silvia, thou art lo! and left me almo fainting; the Letter, I oon found, was one you'd ent from Dorillus his Farm this morning, after you had parted from me, which has betray'd us all, but how it came into their hands I ince have underood,

[ 280 ] for as I aid, you were een paing through the Garden, from thence (to be confirm'd) they dog'd you to the Farm, and waiting there your motions, aw Dorillus come forth with a Letter in his hand; which though he oon conceal'd, yet not o oon but it was taken notice of, when haing to Bellfont the neare way, they gave an account to Monieur, my Father, who going out to Dorillus, commanded him to deliver him the Letter; his Vaal dur not diobey, but yielded it, with uch dipute and reluancy as he dur maintain with a man o great and powerfull; before Dorillus return'd you had taken hore, o that you are a ranger to our mifortune --- What all I do? where all I eek a refuge from the danger that threatens us, a ad and ilent grief appears throughout Bellfont,

[ 281 ] and the face of all things are chang'd, yet none knows the unhappy caue but Monieur my Father, and Madam my Mother, Melinda, and my elf; Melinda and my Page are both dimi from waiting on me, as uppoed confidents of this dear ecret, and rangers, creatures of Madam the Countes, put about me. Oh, Philander, what can I do? thy advice, or I am lo; but how, alas, all I either convey thee to thee or receive any thing from thee, unles ome God of Love in pity of our mieries, ou'd oer us his aid: I'll try to corrupt my new Boy, I ee good nature, pity and generoity in his looks, he's well-born too, and may be hone.

Thus far Philander, I had writ when Supper was brought me, for yet my Parents have not deign'd to let me come into their preence,

[ 282 ] thoe that erve me tell me Mertilla is this Afternoon arriv'd at Bellfont; all's mighty cloely carried in the Countees apartment, I tremble with the thought of what will be the reult of the great conultation: I have been tempting of the Boy, but I perceive they are rily charg'd not to obey me he ays, again his will, he all betray me, for they will have him earch'd, but he has promis'd me to ee one of the weeders, who working in the Garden, into which my Window opens, may from thence receive what I all let down; if it be true I all get this fatal knowledge to you, that you may not only prepare for the wor, but contrive to et at liberty

the unfortunate

Silvia.

My Heart is ready to break and my Eyes are drown'd in Tears: Oh Philander, how much unlike the la will prove this fatal night! farewell and think of Silvia.

[ 283 ]

This was Writ in the Cover to both the foregoing Letters to Philander.

Philander, all that I dreaded, all that I fear'd is fallen upon me, I have been arraign'd and convied, three Judges, evere as the three infernal ones, fate in condemnation on me, a Father, a Mother, and a Sier, the fa, alas, was too clearly prov'd, and too many circumantial truths appear'd again me for me to plead, Not guilty. But, Oh Heavens! had you een the tears, and heard the Prayers, threats, reproaches and upbraidings --- thee from an injur'd Sier, thoe, my heart-broken Parents; a tender Mother here, a railing and reviling Sier there --- an angry Father and a guilty concience --- thou woud' have wondred

[ 284 ] at my fortitude, my courage and my reolution, and all from Love! For urely I had died, had not thy love, thy powerfull love upported me; through all the accidents of life and fate, that can and will upport me; in the mid of all their clamours and their railings I had from that a ecret and a oft repoe within, that whiper'd me, Philander loves me ill; dicarded and renounc'd by my fond Parents, Love ill replies, Philander ill will own thee; thrown from thy Mother's and thy Sier's arms, Philander's ill are open to receive thee: And though I rave, and almo dy to ee them grieve, to think that I am the fatal caue, who makes o ad confuion in our Family: for, oh 'tis pitious to behold my Sier's ighs and tears, my Mother's ad depair, my Father's raging and his weeping, by melancholy

[ 285 ] turns: Yet even thee deplorable objes, that wou'd move the mo obdurate ubborn heart to pity and repentance, render not mine relenting; and yet I'm wondrous pitifull by nature, and I can weep and faint to ee the ad ees of my looe wanton love, yet cannot find repentance for the dear charming in; and yet, oud' thou behold my Mother's languiment, no bitter words proceeding from her lips, no tears fall from her down-ca eyes, but ilent and ad as death e its, and will not view the light; oud' thou, I ay, behold it, thou woud' if not repent, yet grieve that thou had lov'd me: Sure love has quite confounded nature in me, I cou'd not ele behold this fatal ruine without revenging it upon my ubborn heart, a thouand times a-day I make new vows again the God

[ 286 ] of Love, but 'tis too late, and I'm as often perjur'd --- Oh, ou'd the Gods revenge the broken vows of Lovers, what Love-ick man, what maid betray'd like me, but wou'd be damn'd a thouand times for every little love-quarrel, every kind reentment makes us wear to love no more, and every mile, and every flattering oftnes from the dear injurer, make us perjur'd: Let all the force of vertue, honour, intere joyn with my uering Parents to perwade me to ceae to love Philander, yet let him but appear, let him but look on me with thoe dear charming eyes, let him but igh, or pres me to his fragrant cheek, fold me --- and cry --- ah, Silvia, can you quit me --- no, you mu not, you all not, nay, I know you cannot, remember you are mine --- there is uch eloquence in thoe dear words

[ 287 ] when utter'd with a voice fo tender and o paionate, that I believe 'em irreiable --- alas, I find 'em o --- and eaily break all the feebler vows I make again thee; yes, I mu be undone, perjur'd, forworn, incorrigible, unnatural, diobedient, and any thing, rather than not Philander's --- turn then, my Soul, from thee domeick, melancholy objes, and look abroad; look forward for a while on charming propes; look on Philander, the dear, the young, the amorous Philander, whoe very looks infue a tender joy throughout the Soul, and chae all cares, all orrows and anxious thoughts from thence, whoe wanton play is ofter than that of young fledg'd Angels, and when he looks and ighs, and peaks, and touches, he is a very God: Where art thou, oh thou miracle of youth, thou

[ 288 ] charming dear undoer! now thou ha gain'd the glory of the conque, thou lighte the rifled captive: What, not a line? two tedious days are pa and no kind power relieves me with a word, or any tidings of Philander --- and yet thou may have ent --- but I all never ee it, till they raie up fre witnees again me --- I cannot think thee wavering, or forgetfull; for if I did, urely thou know my heart o well, thou can not think 'twou'd live to think another thought: Confirm my kind belief, and end to me ---

There is a Gate well known to thee through which thou pae to Bellfont, 'tis in the road about half a league from hence, an old Man opens it, his Daughter weeds in the Garden, and will convey this to thee as I have order'd her, by

[ 289 ] the ame meenger thou may' return thine, and early as e comes I'll let her down a ring, by which way unperceiv'd, I all receive 'em from her: I'll ay no more, nor inru you how you all preerve your

Silvia.

To Silvia.

That which was left in her hands by Monieur, her Father, in
her Cabinet.

My adorable Silvia,

I can no more decribe to thee the torment with which I part from Bellfont, than I can that Heaven of joy I was rais'd to la night by the tranporting ees of thy wondrous love; both are to exces, and both killing, but in dierent kinds. Oh, Silvia, by all my

[ 290 ] unpeakable raptures in thy arms, by all thy charms of beauty, too numerous and too raviing for fancy to imagin --- I wear --- by this la night, by this dear new dicovery, thou ha increas'd my love to that va height, it has undone my peace --- all my repoe is gone --- this dear, dear night has ruin'd me, it has confirm'd me now I mu have Silvia, and cannot live without her, no, not a day, an hour --- to ave the world, unles I had the intire poeion of my lovely Maid: Ah, Silvia, I am not that indierent dull Lover, that can be rais'd by one beauty to an appetite, and atifie it with another, I cannot carry the dear flame you kindle, to quench it in the imbraces of Mertilla; no, by the eternal powers, he that pretends to love, and loves at that coure rate, needs fear no danger from that

[ 291 ] paion, he ne're was born to live or dy for love; Silvia, Mertilla, and a thouand more were all the ame to uch a dull inenible; no, Silvia, when you find I can return back to the once left matrimonial Bed, depie me, corn me, wear (as then thou july may') I love not Silvia: Let the hot brute drudge on (he who is fir'd by Nature, not by Love, whom any bodies kies can inpire) and eae the neceary heats of youth; Love's is a nobler fire, which nothing can allay but the dear e that rais'd it; no, no, my purer ream all ne're run back to the fountain whence 'tis parted, nay, it cannot, it were as poible to love again where one has ceas'd to love, as carry the deire and wies back, by Heaven, to me there's nothing o unnatural; no, Silvia, it is you I mu poes, you have completed O2

[ 292 ] my undoing now, and I mu dy unles you give me all --- but oh, I am going from thee --- when are we like to meet --- oh, how all I upport my abent hours! thought will deroy me, for 'twill be all on thee, and thoe at uch a diance will be inupportable --- what all I do without thee? if after all the toils of dull inipid life I cou'd return and lay me down by thee, Herculean labours wou'd be oft and eaie --- the har fatigues of war, the dangerous hurries of aairs of ate, the buines and the noie of life, I cou'd upport with pleaure, with wondrous atifaion, cou'd treat Mertilla too with that repe, that generous care as wou'd become a Huband, I cou'd be eaie every where, and every one ou'd be at eae with me; now I all go and find no Silvia there, but igh and wander

[ 293 ] like an unknown thing, on ome range foreign ore; I all grow peevi as a new-wean'd child, no toys, no bauble of the gaudy world will pleae my wayward fancy: I all be out of humour, rail at every thing, in anger all demand, and ullenly reply to every queion ak'd and anwer'd, and when I think to eae my Soul by a retreat, a Thouand oft deires, a Thouand wies wreck me, pain me to raving, till beating the eneles floor with my feet --- I cry aloud --- my Silvia! --- thus, thus, my charming dear, the poor Philander is employ'd when bani'd from his Heaven! if thus it us'd to be when only that bright outide was ador'd, judge now my pain, now thou ha made known a thouand graces more --- oh, pity me --- for 'tis not in thy power to gues what I O3

[ 294 ] all now endure in abence of thee, for thou ha charm'd my Soul to an exces too mighty for a patient uering: Alas, I dy already ---

I am yet at Dorillus his Farm, lingring on from one wift minute to the other, and have not power to go; a thouand looks all languiing I've ca from eyes all drown'd in tears towards Bellfont, have ight a thouand wies to my Angel, from a ad breaking heart --- Love will not let me go --- and Honour calls me --- alas, I mu away; when all we meet again? ah when, my Silvia? --- oh charming Maid --- thou'lt ee me ortly dead, for thus I cannot live, thou mu be mine, or I mu be no more --- I mu away --- farewell --- may all the ofte joys of Heaven attend thee --- adieu --- fail not to end a hundred times a day, if poible; I've order'd Alexis to do

[ 295 ] nothing but wait for all that comes, and po away with what thou end' to me --- again adieu, think on me --- and till thou call' me to thee, imagin nothing upon earth o wretched as Silvia's own

Philander.

Know, my Angel, that paing through the Garden this Morning, I met Erao --- I fear, he aw me near enough to know me, and will give an account of it, let me know what happens --- adieu. half dead, ju taking Hore to go from Silvia.

To Philander.

Written in a Leaf of a Table-book.

I have only time to ay, on Thurday I am dein'd a Sacrifice to Focario, which day finies the life of

Silvia.
O4

[ 296 ]

To Silvia.

From Dorillus his Farm.

Raving and mad at the News your Billet brought me, I (without conidering the ees that wou'd follow) am arriv'd at Bellfont; I have yet o much patience about me, to uer my elf to be conceal'd at Dorillus his Cottage, but if I ee thee not to night, or find no hopes of it --- by Heaven I'll et Bellfont all in a flame but I will have my Silvia; be ure I'll do't --- What? to be married --- Silvia to be married --- and given from Philander --- Oh, never think it, thou forworn fair Creature --- What? give Focario that dear charming Body? all he be grap'd in thoe dear naked Arms? tae all thy kies, pres thy nowy Breas, command thy

[ 297 ] joys and rifle all thy Heaven? Furies and Hell environ me if he do --- Oh, Silvia, faithles, perjur'd, charming Silvia --- and can' thou uer it --- hear me, thou fickle Angel --- hear my vows, oh faithles Ravier! that fatal moment that the daring Prie oers to join your hands, and give thee from me, I'll acrifice your Lover, by Heaven I will, before the Altar ab him at your feet; the holy place, nor the numbers that attend ye, nor all your prayers nor tears all ave his heart; look to't, and be not fale --- yet I'll not tru thy Faith; no, e that can think but falely, and e that can o eaily be perjur'd --- for, but to uer it is uch a in --- uch an undoing in --- that thou art urely damn'd! and yet, by Heaven, that is not all the ruin all attend thee: no, lovely Michief, no --- you O5

[ 298 ] all not cape till the damnation-day; for I will rack thee, torture thee and plague thee, thoe few hours I have to live (if pightfull Fate prevent my ju revenge upon Focario) and when I'm dead --- as I all quickly be kill'd by thy cruelty --- know, thou fair Murtherer, I will haunt thy ight, be ever with thee, and urround thy bed, and fright thee from the Ravier; fright all thy looe delights, and check thy joys --- Oh, I am mad! --- I cannot think that thought, no, thou alt never advance o far in wickednes, I'll ave thee if I can --- Oh, my adorable, why do thou torture me? how ha thou worn o often and o loud that Heaven I am ure has heard thee, and will puni thee? how did' thou wear that happy bleed night, in which I aw thee la, clap'd in my arms, weeping with

[ 299 ] eager love, with melting oftnes on my boome --- remember how thou wor' --- oh, that dear night --- let me recover rength --- and then I'll tell thee more --- I mu repeat the ory of that night, which thou perhaps (oh faithles!) ha forgot --- that glorious night when all the Heavens were gay, and every favouring power look'd down and mil'd upon our thefts of love, that gloomy night the fir of all my joys, the bleed' of my life --- trembling and fainting I approacht your chamber, and while you met and grap'd me at the door, taking my trembling body in your arms --- remember how I fainted at your feet and what dear arts you us'd to call me back to life --- remember how you kis'd and pres'd my face --- remember what dear charming words you poke --- and

[ 300 ] when I did recover, how I ak'd you with a feeble doubtfull voice --- Ah, Silvia, will you ill continue thus, thus wondrous oft and fond? will you be ever mine and ever true --- what did you then reply, when kneeling on the carpet where I lay, what, Silvia, did you vow? how invoke Heaven? how call its vengeance down if e're you lov'd another man again, if e're you touch'd or mil'd on any other, if e're you uer'd words or as of love but from Philander? both Heaven and Hell thou did' awaken with thy oaths, one was an angry liener to what it knew thou'd break, the other laugh'd to know thou woud' be perjur'd, while only I, poor I, was all the while a ilent fond believer; your vows opt all my language as your kies did my lips, you wore and kis'd and vow'd, and clap'd my

[ 301 ] neck --- oh charming flatterer! oh artfull dear beguiler! thus into life and peace, and fond ecurity you charm'd my willing Soul! 'Twas then, my Silvia, (certain of your heart and that it never cou'd be given away to any other) I pres'd my eager joys, but with uch tender caution --- uch fear and fondnes, uch an awfull paion, as overcame your faint reiance, my reaons and my arguments were rong, for you were mine by love, by acred vows, and who cou'd lay a better claim to Silvia? how oft I cried --- Why this reiance, Silvia? my charming dear, whoe are you? not Philander's? and all Philander not command his own --- you mu --- ah cruel --- then a oft ruggle follow'd with half breath'd words, with ighs and trembling hearts, and now and then --- ah cruel and

[ 302 ] unreaonable was oftly aid on both ides: thus rove, thus argued --- till both lay panting in each others arms, not with the toil but rapture; I need not ay what after follow'd this --- what tender owers of range indearing mixtures 'twixt joy and ame, 'twixt love and new urprie, and ever when dried your eyes with kies, unable to repeat any other language than --- oh my Silvia! oh my charming Angel! while ighs of joy, and cloely graping thee --- poke all the re --- while every tender word and every igh, was Echo'd back by thee; you pres'd me --- and you vow'd you lov'd me more than ever yet you did; then wore anew and in my boome hid your charming bluing face, then with exces of love wou'd call on Heaven be witnes oh ye powers (a thouand

[ 303 ] times ye cried) if ever Maid e're lov'd like Silvia --- puni me rangely, oh eternal powers, if e're I leave Philander, if e're I ceae to love him; no force, no art, not intere, honour, wealth, convenience, duty, or what other neceary caue --- all never be of force to make me leave thee --- thus ha thou worn, oh charming, faithles flatterer, thus 'twixt each raviing minute thou wou'd wear --- and I as fa believ'd --- and lov'd thee more --- ha thou forgot it all, oh fickle charmer, ha thou? ha thou forgot between each awfull ceremony of love how you cried out, farewell the world and mortal cares, give me Philander, Heaven, I ak no more --- ha thou forgot all this? did all the live-long night hear any other ound but thoe my mutual vows, of invocations, broken ighs, and oft and

[ 394 ] trembling whipers, ay had we any other buines for the tender hours? oh, all ye ho of Heaven, ye Stars that one, and all ye powers the faithles lovely Maid has worn by, be witnes how e's perjur'd; revenge it all ye injur'd powers, revenge it, ince by it e has undone the faithfulle Youth, and broke the tendere heart --- that ever fell a acrifice to love, and all ye little weeping Gods of love, revenge your murther'd viim --- your

Philander.

To Philander.

In the Leaves of a Table-Book.

Oh, my Philander, how dearly welcome, and how needles were thy kind reproaches?

[ 305 ] which I'll not endeavour to convince by argument, but uch a deed as all at once ecure thy fears now and for the future; I have not a minute to write in, place my dear Philander, your Chariot in St. Vincent's Wood, and ince I am not able to fix the hour of my flight, let it wait there my coming, 'tis but a little mile from Bellfont, Dorillus is upeed there, remove thy elf to the high-way-gate Cottage --- there I'll call on thee --- 'twas lucky that thy fears, or love, or jealouie brought thee o near me, ince I'd reolv'd before upon my flight. Parents and honour, intere and fame, farewell --- I leave you all to follow my Philander --- hae the Chariot to the thicke part of the Wood, for I'm impatient to be gone, and all take the fir opportunity to fly to

[ 306 ] my Philander --- Oh, love me, love me, love me!

Under pretence of reaching the Jeamin which ades my Window, I unperceiv'd let down and receive what Letters you end by the hone Weeder; by her end your ene of my flight, or rather your direion, for 'tis reolv'd already.

To Silvia.

My lovely Angel,

So carefull I will be of this dear mighty ecret, that I will only ay Silvia all be obey'd, no more --- nay, I'll not dare to think of it, le in my rapture I ou'd name my joy aloud, and buie

[ 307 ] winds ou'd bear it to ome oicious liener and undo me; no more, no more, my Silvia, extremes of joy (as grief) are ever dumb: Let it uice, this bleing which you proer, I had deign'd to ak, as oon as you'd convinc'd me of your faith; yes, Silvia, I had ak'd it, though 'twas a bounty too great for any Mortal to conceive Heaven ou'd beow upon him; but if it do, that very moment I'll reign the world, and barter all for love and charming Silvia. Hae, hae, my life; my arms, my boome and my Soul are open to receive the lovely fugitive; hae, for this moment I am going to plant my elf where you direed.

Adieu.

[ 308 ]

To Philander.

After her Flight.

Ah, Philander, how have you undone a harmles, poor unfortunate? alas, where are you? why wou'd you thus abandon me? is this the oul, the boome, thee the arms that ou'd receive me? I'll not upbraid thee with my love, or charge thee with my undoing; 'twas all my own, and were it yet to do, I ou'd again be ruin'd for Philander, and never find repentance, no not for a thought, a word or deed of love, to the dear fale forworn; but I can dy, yes, hopeles, friendles --- left by all, even by Philander --- all but reolution has abandon'd me, and that can lay me down whene're I pleae in afe repoe and peace: But oh, thou art not fale, or if thou be', oh, let me hear it

[ 309 ] from thy mouth, ee thy repented love, that I may know there's no uch thing on earth, as faith, as honey, as love or truth; however be thou true, or be thou fale, be bold and let me know it, for thus to doubt is torture wore than death. What accident, thou dear, dear man, has hapned to prevent thee from puruing my direions, and aying for me at the gate? where have I mis'd thee, thou joy of my oul? by what dire miake have I lo thee? and where, oh where art thou, my charming Lover? I ought thee every where, but like the languiing abandon'd Mires in the Canticles, I ought thee, but I found thee not, no bed of Roes wou'd dicover thee; I aw no print of thy dear ape, nor heard no amorous igh that cou'd dire me --- I ak'd the wood and prings, complain'd and call'd on

[ 310 ] thee through all the Groves, but they confes'd thee not; nothing but Echo's anwer'd me, and when I cried Philander --- cried --- Philander, thus earch'd I till the coming night and my increaing fears made me reolve for flight, which oon we did, and oon arriv'd at Paris, but whither then to go, Heaven knows, I cou'd not tell, for I was almo naked, friendles and forlorn; at la, conulting Brilljard what to do, after a thouand revolutions he concluded to tru me with a ier he had who was Married to a Gidon of the Guard de Core, he chang'd my name, and made me pas for a Fortune he had oln, but oh, no welcomes, nor my afe retreat were uicient to repoe me all the inuing night, for I had no news of Philander; no, not a dream inform'd me, a thouand fears and jealouies have kept

[ 311 ] me waking, and Brilljard who has been all night in puruit of thee, is now return'd ucceles and diraed as thy Silvia, for duty and generoity has almo the ame ees in him, with love and tendernes and jealouie in me; and ince Paris aords no news of thee, (which ure it wou'd if thou wert in it, for oh, the Sun might hide himelf with as much eae as great Philander) he is reolv'd to earch St. Vincent's Wood and all the adjacent Cottages and Groves; he thinks that you, not knowing of my ecape, may yet be waiting thereabouts; ince quitting the Chariot for fear of being een, you might be o far advanc'd into the Wood, as not to find the way back to the Thicket where the Chariot waited: 'tis thus he feeds my hopes and flatters my poor heart, that fain wou'd think thee true --- or if

[ 312 ] thou be' not --- but cur be all uch thoughts, and far from Silvia's Soul; no, no, thou art not fale, it cannot be, thou art a God, and art unchangeable; I know by ome miake thou art attending me, as wild and impatient as I, perhaps thou think' me fale, and think' I have not courage to purue my love and fly; and thou perhaps art waiting for the hour wherein thou think' I'll give my elf away to Focario: Oh cruel and unkind! to think I lov'd o lightly, to think I wou'd attend that fatal hour; no, Philander, no, faithles, dear inchanter: La night, the Eve to my intended Wedding-day, having repos'd my Soul by my reolves for flight, and only waiting the lucky minute for ecape, I et a willing hand to every thing that was preparing for the ceremony of the enuing morning;

[ 313 ] with that pretence I got me early to my Chamber, tried on a thouand drees, and ak'd a thouand queions, all impertinent, which wou'd do be, which look'd mo gay and rich? then dre my Gown with Jewels, deck'd my apartment up, and left nothing undone that might ecure 'em both of my being pleas'd and of my ay; nay, and to give the les upicion, I undres'd my elf, even to my under Peticoat and Night-gown; I wou'd not take a Jewel, not a Piol, but left my Women finiing my work, and carelely, and thus undre, walk'd towards the Garden, and while every one was buie in their oice, getting my elf out of ight, I poed o're the Meadow to the Wood as wift as Daphne from the God of day, till I arriv'd mo luckily where I found the Chariot waiting, attended by P

[ 314 ] Brilljard; of whom, when I (all fainting and breathles with my wift flight) demanded his Lord, he lifted me into the Chariot, and cried, a little farther, Madam, you will find him; for he, for fear of making a dicovery took yonder aded path --- towards which we went, but no dear viion of my Love appear'd --- and thus, my charming Lover, you have my kind adventure; end me ome tidings back that you are found, that you are well, and laly, that you are mine, or this that ou'd have been my wedding day, will ee it elf that of the death of

Silvia.

Paris, Thurday, from my Bed, for want of Cloaths, or rather, news from Philander.

[ 315 ]

To Silvia.

My life, my Silvia, my eternal joy, art thou then afe? and art thou reerv'd for Philander? am I o ble by Heaven, by love, and my dear charming Maid? then let me dy in peace, ince I have liv'd to ee all that my Soul deires in Silvia's being mine; perplex not thy oft heart with fears or jealouies, nor think o baely, o poorly of my love to need more oaths or vows, yet to confirm thee I wou'd wear my breath away; but oh, it needs not here; --- take then no care, my lovely dear, turn not thy charming eyes or thoughts back on aliing objes, oh think not on what thou ha abandoned, but what thou art arriv'd to; look forward on the joys of love and Youth, for I will

[ 316 ] dedicate all my remaining life to render thine erene and glad; and yet, my Silvia, thou art o dear to me, o wondrous pretious to my Soul, that I in my extravagance of love, I fear, all grow a troubleome and wearying Coxcomb, all dread every look thou give away from me --- a mile will make me rave, a igh or touch make me commit a murther on the happy lave, or my own jealous heart, but all the world beides is Silvia's, all but another Lover; but I rave and run too fa away, ages mu pas a tedious term of years before I can be jealous, or conceive thou can be weary of Philander --- I'll be o fond, o doating, and o playing, thou alt not have an idle minute to throw away a look in, or a thought on any other; no, no, I have thee now, and will maintain my right

[ 317 ] by dint and force of love --- oh, I am wild to ee thee --- but, Silvia, I am wounded --- do not be frighted though, for 'tis not much or dangerous, but very troubleome ince it permits me not to fly to Silvia, but e mu come to me, in order to it, Brilljard has a Bill on my Goldmith in Paris for a thouand Piols to buy thee omething to put on; any thing that's ready, and he will condu thee to me, for I all rave my elf into a feaver if I ee thee not to day --- I cannot live without thee now --- for thou'rt my life my everlaing charmer: I have order'd Brilljard to get a Chariot and ome unknown Livery for thee, and I think the continuance of paing for what he has already rendred thee will do very well, till I have taken farther care of thy dear afety, which will be as oon as I am able to rie; for mo P3

[ 318 ] unfortunately, my dear Silvia, quitting the Chariot in the thicket for fear of being een with it, and walking down a aded path that uited with the melancholy, and fears of unucces in thy adventure; I went o far, as e're I cou'd return to the place where I left the Chariot, 'twas gone --- it eems with thee; I know not how you mi me --- but poes'd my elf with a Thouand fale fears, ometimes that in thy flight thou mighte be purued and overtaken, eiz'd in the Chariot and return'd back to Bellfont, or that the Chariot was found and eiz'd on upon upicion, though the Coach-man and Brilljard were diguis'd pa knowledge --- or if thou wert gone, alas, I knew not whither, but that was a thought my doubts and fears would not uer me to eae my Soul with; no, I (as jealous lovers do) imagin'd

[ 319 ] the mo tormenting things for my own repoe, I imagin'd the Chariot taken, or at lea o dicover'd as to be forc'd away without thee: I imagin'd that thou wert fale --- Heaven forgive me, fale, my Silvia, and had chang'd thy mind; mad with this thought (which I fanied mo reaonable and fixt it in my oul) I rav'd about the Wood, making a thouand vows to be reveng'd on all; in order to it I left the Thicket, and betook my elf to the high road of the Wood, where I laid me down among the fern, cloe hid, with my Sword ready, waiting for the happy Bridegroom, whom I knew (it being the wedding eve) wou'd that way pas that Evening; pleas'd with revenge which now had got even the place of love; I waited there not above a little hour, but heard the trampling of a hore, and looking P4

[ 320 ] up, with mighty joy, I found it Focario's, alone he was, and unattended, for he'd outrip'd his equipage, and with a lover's hae, and full of joy, was making towards Bellfont; but I (now fir'd with rage) leap'd from my covert, cried, ay, Focario, e're you arrive to Silvia, we mu adju an odd account between us --- at which he opping, as nimbly alighted --- in fine, we fought, and many wounds were given and received on both ides, till his people coming up parted us ju as we were fainting with los of blood in each others arms; his Coach and Chariot were among his equipage, into the fir his Servants lifted him, when he cried out with a feeble voice --- to have me, who now lay bleeding on the ground put into the Chariot, and to be afely convey'd where ever I commanded,

[ 321 ] and o in hae they drove him towards Bellfont, and me, who was reolv'd not to ir far from it, to the Village within a mile of it; from whence I ent to Paris for a Surgeon and dimi the Chariot, ordering in the hearing of the Coachman a Litter to be brought me immediately to convey me that night to Paris; but the Surgeon coming, found it not afe for me to be removed, and I am now willing to live, ince Silvia is mine, hae to me then, my lovely Maid, and fear not being dicover'd, for I have given order here in the Cabaret where I am, if any enquiry is made after me, to ay I went la night for Paris: Hae, my love, hae to my arms, as feeble as they are they'll grap thee a dear wellcome: I'll ay no more, nor precribe rules to thy love, that can inform thee be P5

[ 322 ] what thou mu do to ave the life of thy mo paionate adorer,

Philander.

To Philander.

I have ent Brilljard to ee if the Coa be clear that we may come with afety, he brings you inead of Silvia, a young Cavalier that will be altogether as wellcome to Philander, and who impatiently waits his return at a little Cottage at the end of the Village.

[ 323 ]

To Silvia.

From the Baill.

I know my Silvia expeed me at home with her at dinner to day, and wonders how I cou'd live o long as ince morning without the eternal joy of my Soul; but know, my Silvia, that a trivial mifortune is now fallen upon me, which in the mid of all our Heaven of joys, our ofte hours of life, has o often chang'd thy miles into fears and ighings, and ruled thy calm Soul with cares: Nor let it now eem range or aliing, ince every day for this three months we have been alarm'd with new fears that have made thee uneaie even in Philander's arms, we knew ome time or other the orm wou'd fall on us, though we had for three happy months eltred

[ 324 ] our elves from its threatning rage; but Love I hope has arm'd us both; for me --- let me be depriv'd of all joys, (but thoe my charmer can dipence) all the fale worlds repe, the dull eeem of Fools and formal Coxcombs, the grave advice of the cenorious wie, the kind opinion of ill judging Women, no matter, o my Silvia remain but mine. I am, my Silvia, arreed at the uit of Monieur the Count, your Father, for a Rape on my lovely Maid: I deire my Soul, you will immediately take Coach and go to the Prince Ceario, and he will bail me out; I fear not a fair trial, and Silvia thefts of mutual love were never counted Felony; I may dy for Love, my Silvia, but not for loving --- go, hae, my Silvia that I may be no longer detain'd from the olid pleaure and buines

[ 325 ] of my Soul --- hae, my lov'd dear --- hae and relieve

Philander.

Come not to me, le there ould be an order to detain my dear.

To Philander.

I am not at all urpriz'd, my Philander, at the accident that has befallen thee, becaue o long expeed, and love and that has o well fortified my heart that I upport our mifortune with a courage worthy of her that loves and is belov'd by the glorious Philander; I am arm'd for the wor that can befall me, and that is my being

[ 326 ] rendred a publick ame, who have been o in the private whipers of all the Court for near thee happy three months, in which I have had the wondrous atifaion of being retir'd from the World with the charming Philander; my Father too knew it long ince, at lea he cou'd not hinder himelf from gueing it, though his fond indulgence uer'd his Juice and his anger to leep, and poibly had ill lept had not Mertilla's pight and rage (I ou'd ay ju reentment, but I cannot) rouz'd up his drowie vengeance: I know e has ply'd him with her oftning eloquence, her prayers and tears to win him to conent to make a publick buines of it; but I am entred, love has arm'd my Soul, and I'll purue my fortune with that height of fortitude as all urprie the world; yes Philander, ince I

[ 327 ] have lo my honour, fame and friends, my intere and my Parents, and all for mightier love; I'll op at nothing now, if there be any hazards more to run, I'le thank the pightfull fates that bring 'em on, and will even tire them out with my unwearied paion --- Love on, Philander, if thou dar, like me; let 'em purue me with their hate and vengeance let Prions, poverty and tortures eize me, it all not take one grain of love away from my reolv'd heart, nor make me ed a tear of penitence, for loving thee; no, Philander, ince I know what a raviing pleaure 'tis to live thine I will never quit the glory of dying alo thy

Silvia.

Ceario, my dear, is coming to be your Bail; with Monieur the Count of --- --- I dy to ee you after your uering for Silvia.

[ 328 ]

To Silvia.

Believe me, charming Silvia, I live not thoe hours I am abent from thee, thou art my life, my Soul and my eternal felicity; while you believe this truth, my Silvia, you will not entertain a thouand fears, if I but ay a moment beyond my appointed hour, epecially when Philander, who is not able to upport the thought that any thing ould ali his lovely Baby, takes care from hour to hour to atifie her tender doubting heart. My deare, I am gone into the City to my Advocates, my Tryal with Monieur the Count, your Father, coming on to morrow, and 'twill be at lea two tedious hours e're I can bring my adorable her

Philander.

[ 329 ]

To Silvia.

I was call'd on, my deare Child, at my Advocates, by Ceario, there is ome great buines this evening debated in the Cabal which is at Monieur --- in the City; Ceario tells me there is a very diligent earch made by Monieur the Count, your Father, for my Silvia, I dy if you are taken, le the fright ou'd hurt thee; if poible, I would have thee remove this evening from thoe Lodgings, le the people who are of the Royal party ou'd be induc'd, through malice or gain, to dicover thee; I dare not come my elf to wait on thee, le my being een ou'd betray thee, but I have ent Brilljard (whoe zeal for thee all be rewarded) to condu thee to a little houe in the Fauxburgh S. Germans,

[ 330 ] where lives a pretty Woman and Mires to Chevalier Tomao, call'd Belinda, a Woman of wit, and dicreet enough to underand what ought to be paid to a Maid of the quality and charaer of Silvia; e already knows the ories of our loves; thither I'll come to thee and bring Ceario to upper, as oon as the Cabal breaks up; oh, my Silvia, I all one day recompene all thy goodnes, all thy bravery, thy love and thy uering for thy eternal Lover and Slave,

Philander.

[ 331 ]

To Philander.

So hay I was to obey Philander's commands, that by the unwearied care and indury of the faithfull Brilljard, I went before three a clock diguis'd away to the place whither you order'd us, and was well receiv'd by the very pretty young Woman of the houe, who has ene and breeding as well as beauty: But oh, Philander, this flight pleaes me not; alas, what have I done? my fault is only love, and that ure I ou'd boa, as the mo divine paion of the Soul; no, no, Philander, 'tis not my love's the criminal, no nor the placing it on Philander the crime; but 'tis thy mo unhappy circumances --- thy being married, and that was no crime to Heaven

[ 332 ] till man made laws, and can laws reach to damnation? if o, cure on the fatal hour that thou wert married, cure on the Prie that joyn'd ye, and cur be all that did contribute to the undoing ceremony --- except Philander's Tongue, that anwer'd yes --- oh, Heavens! was there but one dear man of all your whole Creation that cou'd Charm the Soul of Silvia, and cou'd ye --- oh, ye wie all-eeing Powers that knew my Soul, cou'd ye give him away? how had my innocence oended ye? our hearts you did create for mutual love, how came the dire miake? another wou'd have pleas'd the indierent Mertilla's Soul as well, but mine was fitted for no other man; only Philander, the ador'd Philander, with that dear form, that ape, that charming face, that hair, thoe lovely peaking eyes,

[ 333 ] that wounding oftnes in his tender voice, had power to conquer Silvia; and can this be a in? Oh, Heavens can it? mu laws which man contriv'd for mere conveniency have power to alter the divine decrees at our Creation --- perhaps they argue to morrow at the bar that Mertilla was ordain'd by Heaven for Philander; no, no, he miook the Sier, 'twas pretty near he came, but by a fatal errour was miaken, his hay Youth made him too negligently op before his time at the wrong Woman, he ou'd have gaz'd a little farther on --- and then it had been Silvia's lot --- 'tis fine divinity they teach that cry --- Marriages are made in Heaven --- folly and madnes grown into grave cuome; ou'd an unheedy youth in heat of blood take up with the fir convenient e that oers, though he

[ 334 ] an heir to ome grave Politician, great and rich, and e the outca of the common ews, coupled in height of wine, and udden lu, which once allay'd, and that the ober morning wakes him to ee his errour, he quits with ame the Jilt, and owns no more the folly; all this be call'd a Heavenly conjunion? were I in height of youth, as now I am, forc'd by my Parents, oblig'd by intere and honour to marry the old deform'd, dieas'd, decrepid Count Antonio, whoe peron, qualities and principles I loath, and rather than uer him to conummate his Nuptials, uppoe I ou'd (as ure I ou'd) kill my elf, 'twere blaphemy to lay this fatal marriage to Heavens charge --- cure on your nonene, ye impoing Gownmen, cure on your holy cant; you may as well call Rapes and

[ 335 ] Murthers, Treaon and Robbery, the as of Heaven; becaue Heaven uers 'em to be committed, is it Heavens pleaure therefore, Heaven's decree? a trick, a wie device of Pries, no more --- to make the naueated, tir'd out pair drag on the carefull buines of life, drudg for the dull got family with greater atifaion, becaue they'r taught to think marriage was made in Heaven; a mighty comfort that, when all the joys of life are lo by it: were it not nobler far that honour kept him ju, and that good nature made him reaonable proviion? daily experience proves to us, no couple live with les content, les eae than thoe they cry Heaven joins; who is't loves les than thoe that marry? and where love is not there is hate and loathing, at be, digu, diquiet, noie and repentance: No,

[ 336 ] Philander, that's a heavenly match when two Souls toucht with equal paion meet (which is but rarely een) --- when willing vows, with erious conideration, are weigh'd and made; when a true view is taken of the Soul, when no bae intere makes the hay bargain, when no conveniency or deign of drudge, or lave, all find it neceary, when equal judgments meet that can eeem the bleings they poes, and diingui the good of eithers love, and et a value on each others merits, and where both underand to take and pay; who find the beauty of each others minds, and rate 'em as they ought, whom not a formal ceremony binds (with which I've nought to do, but dully give a cold conenting airmative) but well conidered vows from oft inclining hearts, utter'd

[ 337 ] with love, with joy, with dear delight when Heaven is call'd to witnes; She is thy Wife, Philander, He is my Huband, this is the match, this Heaven deigns and means, how then, oh, how came I to mis Philander? or he his

Silvia.

Since I writ this, which I deign'd not an inveive again Marriage when I began, but to inform thee of my being where you direed; but ince I writ this, I ay the Houe where I am is broken open with Warrants and Oicers for me, but being all undre and ill, the Oicer has taken my Word for my appearance to morrow; it eems they aw me when I went from my Lodgings and purued me; hae to me, for I all need your Counel.

[ 338 ]

To Silvia.

My eternal joy, my aliion is inexpreible at the news you end me of your being urpriz'd; I am not able to wait on thee yet --- not being uer'd to leave the Cabal, I only borrow this minute to tell thee the ene of my Advocate in this cae; which was, if thou oud' be taken, there was no way, no Law to ave thee from being ravit from my arms but that of marrying thee to ome body whom I can tru; this we have often dicours'd, and thou ha often vow'd thou'lt do any thing rather than kill me with a eparation; reolve then, oh thou charmer of my Soul, to do a deed, that though the name

[ 309 ] wou'd fright thee, only can preerve both thee and me; it is --- and though it have no other terrour in it than the name, I faint to peak it --- to marry, Silvia; yes, thou mu marry; though thou art mine as fa as Heaven can make us, yet thou mu marry; I've pitch'd upon the property, 'tis Brilljard, him I can only tru in this aair; it is but joining hands --- no more, my Silvia --- Brilljard's a Gentleman, though a Cadet, and may be uppoed to pretend to o great a happines, and whoe only crime is want of fortune; he's handome too, well made, well bred, and o much real eeem he has for me, and I've o oblig'd him that I'm confident he'll pretend no farther than to the honour of owning thee in Court; I'll tie him from it, nay, he dares not Q2

[ 340 ] do't, I'll tru him with my life --- but oh, Silvia is more-think of it, and this night we will perform it, there being no other way to keep Silvia eternally

Philander's.

To Silvia.

Now, my adorable Silvia, you have truly need of all that heroick bravery of mind I ever thought thee Miris of; for Silvia, coming from thee this morning, and riding full peed for Paris, I was met, opt and eiz'd for high Treaon, by the King's meengers, and poibly may fall a acrifice to the anger of an incens'd Monarch; my Silvia, bear this la ock of fate with a courage

[ 341 ] worthy thy great and glorious Soul; 'tis but a little eparation, Silvia, and we all one day meet again; by Heaven, I find no other ing in death but parting with my Silvia, and every parting wou'd have been the ame; I might have died by thy didain, thou might' have grown weary of thy Philander, have lov'd another, and have broke thy vows, and tortur'd me to death thee crueller ways; but fate is kinder to me, and I go ble with my Silvia's love, for which Heaven may do much, for her dear ake, to recompence her faith, a Maid o innocent and true to acred love; expe the be, my lovely dear, the wor has this comfort in't, that I all die my charming Silvia's

Philander.

[ 342 ]

To Philander.

I'll only ay, thou dear upporter of my Soul, that if Philander dies, he all not go to Heaven without his Silvia --- by Heaven and earth I wear it I cannot live without thee, nor alt thou die without thy

Silvia.

To Silvia.

See, ee, my adorable Angel, what cares the powers above take of divine innocence, true love and beauty, oh, ee what they have done for their darling Silvia; cou'd they do les?

[ 343 ] Know, my dear Maid, that after being examined before the King, I was found guilty enough to be committed to the Baile, (from whence, if I had gone, I never had return'd, but to my death) but the Meenger into whoe hands I was committed refuing other Guards, being alone with me, in my own Coach, I reolv'd to kill if I cou'd no other way oblige him to favour my ecape; I tried with Gold before I ew'd my dagger, and that prevail'd, a way les criminal, and I have taken anuary in a mall Cottage near the Sea ore, where I wait for Silvia; and though my life depend upon my flight, nay, more, the life of Silvia, I cannot go without her; dres your elf then, my deare, in your Boys cloaths, and hae with Brilljard, whither this Seaman will condu

[ 344 ] thee, whom I have hir'd to et us on ome ore of afety; bring what news you can learn of Ceario; I wou'd not have him die poorly after all his mighty hopes nor be condued to a caold with outs of joy, by that uncertain bea the Rabble, who us'd to op his Chariot wheels with fickle adorations whene're he look'd abroad --- by Heaven, I pity him, but Silvia's preence will chae away all thoughts, but thoe of love, from

Philander.

I need not bid
thee hae.

La Fin.

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