Oh _Melinda_, what have you told me? Stay me with an immediate account of the recovery and calmness of my adorable weeping _Sylvia_, or I shall enter _Bellfont_ with my sword drawn, bearing down all before me, ‘till I make my way to my charming mourner: O God! _Sylvia_ in a rage! _Sylvia_ in any passion but that of love? I cannot bear it, no, by heaven I cannot; I shall do some outrage either on myself or at _Bellfont_. Oh thou dear advocate of my tenderest wishes, thou confidante of my never dying flame, thou kind administering maid, send some relief to my breaking heart--haste and tell me, _Sylvia_ is calm, that her bright eyes sparkle with smiles, or if they languish, say ’.is with love, with expecting joys; that her dear hands are no more employed in exercises too rough and unbecoming their native softness. O eternal God! tearing perhaps her divine hair, brighter than the sun’s reflecting beams, injuring the heavenly beauty of her charming face and bosom, the joy and wish of all mankind that look upon her: oh charm her with prayers and tears, stop her dear fingers from the rude assaults; bind her fair hands; repeat _Philander_ to her, tell her he’s fainting with the news of her unkindness and outrage on her lovely self; but tell her too, I die adoring her; tell her I rave, I tear, I curse myself,--for so I do; tell her I would break out into a violence that should set all _Bellfont_ in a flame, but for my care of her. Heaven and earth should not restrain me,--no, they should not,----But her least frown should still me, tame me, and make me a calm coward: say this, say all, say any thing to charm her rage and tears. Oh I am mad, stark-mad, and ready to run on business I die to think her guilty of: tell her how it would grieve her to see me torn and mangled; to see that hair she loves ruffled and diminish’d by rage, violated by my insupportable grief, myself quite bereft of all sense but that of love, but that of adoration for my charming, cruel insensible, who is possessed with every thought, with every imagination that can render me unhappy, borne away with every fancy that is in disfavour of the wretched _Philander_. Oh _Melinda_, write immediately, or you will behold me enter a most deplorable object of pity. When I receiv’d yours, I fell into such a passion that I forc’d myself back to _Dorillus_ his house, left my transports and hurried me to _Bellfont_, where I should have undone all: but as I can now rest no where, I am now returning to the meadow again, where I will expect your aid, or die. _From_ Dorillus _his cottage, almost nine o’clock._ * * * * * _To_ PHILANDER.