From her own room, in summer’s softest eve, Stept _Celia_ forth, her _Delia_ to receive— Joy in her looks, that half her tale declared: _C._ War and the waves my fav’rite Youth have spared; Faithful and fond, through many a painful year, My Charles will come——Do give me joy, my dear! _D._ I give you joy, and so may he; but still, ’Tis right to question, if ’tis sure he will; A sailor’s open honest heart we prize; But honest sailors have their ears and eyes. 10 _C._ Oh! but he surely will on me depend, Nor dare to doubt the firmness of his friend. _D._ Be not secure; the very best have foes, } And facts they would not to the world expose; } And these he may be told, if he converse with those. } _C._ Speak you in friendship?—let it be sincere And naked truth—and what have I to fear? _D._ I speak in friendship; and I do confess If I were you, the Truth should wear a dress: If Charles should doubt, as lovers do, though blind, 20 Would you to him present the naked mind? If it were clear as crystal, yet it checks One’s joy to think that he may fancy specks; And now, in five long years, we scarcely know How the mind gets them, and how large they grow. Let woman be as rigid as a nun, She cannot censures and surmises shun. Wonder not, then, at tales that Scandal tells— Your father’s rooms were not like sisters’ cells; Nor pious monks came there, nor prosing friars, 30 But well-dress’d captains, and approving squires. _C._ What these to me, admit th’ account be true? _D._ Nay, that yourself describe—they came to you! _C._ Well! to my friend I may the truth confess, Poor Captain Glimmer loved me to excess; Flintham, the young solicitor, that wrote Those pretty verses, he began to dote; That Youth from Oxford, when I used to stop A moment with him, at my feet would drop; Nor less your Brother, whom, for your dear sake, 40} I to my favour often used to take— } And was, vile world! my character at stake? } If such reports my Sailor’s ear should reach, What jealous thoughts and fancies may they teach; If without cause ill-judging men suspect, What may not all these harmless Truths effect? And what, my Delia, if our virtues fail, What must we fear if conscious we are frail? And well you know, my friend, nor fear t’ impart, The tender frailties of the yielding heart. 50 _D._ Speak for yourself, fair lady! speak with care; I not your frailties, but your suffering, share. You may my counsel, if you will, refuse; But, pray, beware how you my name accuse! _C._ Accuse you! No! there is no need of One, To do what long the public voice has done. What misses, then at school, forget the fall } Of Ensign Bloomer, when he leapt the wall? } That was a first exploit, and we were witness all; } And that sad night, upon my faithful breast, 60