_C._ Nay, this is needless— _D._ Oh! when you are tried, 250 And taught for trial, must I feed your pride? Oh! that’s the vice of which I still complain: Men could not triumph were not women vain. But now proceed—say _boyhood_ in this case (The last obscure one) shields you from disgrace. But what of Shelley? all your foes can prove, And all your friends, that here indeed was love. For three long months you met as lovers meet, And half the town has seen him at your feet; Then, on the evil day that saw you part, 260 Your ashy looks betray’d your aching heart. With this against you—— _C._ This, my watchful friend, Confess I cannot, therefore must defend. “Shelley! dear Charles, how enter’d he your mind? Well may they say that jealousy is blind! Of all the men who talk’d with me of love, His were the offers I could least approve; My father’s choice—and, Charles, you must agree } That my good father seldom thinks with me— } Or his had been the grief, while thou wert tost at sea! } It was so odious—when that man was near, 271 My father never could himself appear; Had I received his fav’rite with a frown, Upon my word he would have knock’d me down.” _D._ Well! grant you durst not frown—but people say That you were dying when he went away. Yes! you were ill! of that no doubts remain; And how explain it?— _C._ Oh! I’ll soon explain. “I sicken’d, say you, when the man was gone— Could I be well, if sickness would come on? 280 Fact follows fact; but is ‘t of Nature’s laws That one of course must be the other’s cause? Just as her husband tried his fav’rite gun, My cousin brought him forth his first-born son— The birth might either flash or fright succeed, But neither, sure, were causes of the deed. That Shelley left us, it is very true— That sickness found me, I confess it too; But that the one was cause, and one effect, Is a conceit I utterly reject. 290 You may, my Friend, demonstrate, if you please, That disappointment will bring on disease; But, if it should, I would be glad to know If ’tis a quinsy that such griefs bestow? A heart may suffer, if a lady doat; But will she feel her anguish in the throat? I’ve heard of pangs that tender folks endure, But not that linctuses and blisters cure.”— Your thoughts, my Delia? _D._ What I think of this? Why! if he smile, it is not much amiss. 300 But there are humours; and, by them possess’d, A lover will not hearken to a jest. Well, let this pass!—but, for the next affair, We know your father was indignant there: He hated Miller. Say! if Charles should press For explanation, what would you confess? You cannot there on his commands presume; Besides, you fainted in a public room; There own’d your flame, and, like heroic maid,