After your last affront by your page, I believe it will surprise you to receive any thing from _Sylvia_ but scorn and disdain: but, my lord, the interest you have by a thousand ways been so long making in my heart, cannot so soon be cancelled by a minute’s offence; and every action of your life has been too generous to make me think you writ what I have received, at least you are not well in your senses: I have committed a fault against your love, I must confess, and am not ashamed of the little cheat I put upon you in bringing you to bed to _Antonet_ instead of _Sylvia_: I was ashamed to be so easily won, and took it ill your passion was so mercenary to ask so coarsely for the possession of me; too great a pay I thought for so poor service, as rendering up a letter which in honour you ought before to have shewed me: I own I gave you hope, in that too I was criminal; but these are faults that sure deserved a kinder punishment than what I last received--a whore--, a common mistress! Death, you are a coward----and even to a woman dare not say it, when she confronts the scandaler,----Yet pardon me, I mean not to revile, but gently to reproach; it was unkind----at least allow me that, and much unlike _Octavio_. I think I had not troubled you, my lord, with the least confession of my resentment, but I could not leave the town, where for the honour of your conversation and friendship alone I have remained so long, without acquitting myself of those obligations I had to you; I send you therefore the key of my closet and cabinet, where you shall find not only your letters, but all those presents you have been pleased once to think me worthy of: but having taken back your friendship, I render you the less valuable trifles, and will retain no more of _Octavio_, than the dear memory of that part of his life that was so agreeable to the unfortunate SYLVIA.