my province; the empire of the young, the vigorous, and the bold; and I will claim my share; the air, the groves, the shades are mine to sigh in, as well as your _Philander_’.; the echoes answer me as willingly, when I complain, or name the cruel _Sylvia_; fountains receive my tears, and the kind spring’s reflection agreeably flatters me to hope, and makes me vain enough to think it just and reasonable I should pursue the dictates of my soul----love on in spite of opposition, because I will not lose my privileges; you may forbid me naming it to you, in that I can obey, because I can; but not to love! Not to adore the fair! And not to languish for you, were as impossible as for you not to be lovely, not to be the most charming of your sex. But I am so far from a pretending fool, because you have been possessed, that often that thought comes cross my soul, and checks my advancing love; and I would buy that thought off with almost all my share of future bliss! Were I a god, the first great miracle should be to form you a maid again: for oh, whatever reasons flattering love can bring to make it look like just, the world! The world, fair _Sylvia_, still will censure, and say----you were to blame; but it was that fault alone that made you mortal, we else should have adored you as a deity, and so have lost a generous race of young succeeding heroes that may be born of you! Yet had _Philander_ loved but half so well as I, he would have kept your glorious fame entire; but since alone for _Sylvia_ I love _Sylvia_, let her be false to honour, false to love, wanton and proud, ill-natured, vain, fantastic, or what is worse--let her pursue her love, be constant, and still dote upon _Philander_--yet still she will be the _Sylvia_ I adore, that _Sylvia_ born eternally to enslave OCTAVIO.