Pardon, my adorable _Sylvia_, the rashness of my passion in this rencounter with _Foscario_; I am satisfied he is too unhappy in your disfavour to merit the being so in mine; but it was sufficient I then saw a joy in his face, a pleased gaiety in his looks to make me think my rage reasonable, and my quarrel just; by the style he writes, I dread his sense less than his person; but you, my lovely maid, have said enough to quit me of my fears for both----the night comes on--I cannot call it envious, though it rob me of the light that should assist me to finish this, since it will more gloriously repay me in a happier place--come on then, thou blest retreat of lovers, I forgive by interruptions here, since thou wilt conduct to the arms of _Sylvia_,--the adoring PHILANDER. _If you have any commands for me, this weeder of the gardens, whom I met in going in thither, will bring it back; I wait in the meadow, and date this from the dear primrose-bank, where I have sat with_ Sylvia. * * * * * _To_ PHILANDER. _After the happy night._ ’.is done, yes, _Philander_, it is done, and after that, what will not love and grief oblige me to own to you? Oh, by what insensible degrees a maid in love may arrive to say any thing to her lover without blushing! I have known the time, the blest innocent time, when but to think I loved _Philander_ would have covered my face with shame, and to have spoke it would have filled me with confusion--have made me tremble, blush, and bend my guilty eyes to earth, not daring to behold my charming conqueror, while I made that bashful confession--though now I am grown bold in love, yet I have known the time, when being at Court, and coming from the Presence, being offered some officious hand to lead me to my coach, I have shrunk back with my aversion to your sex, and have concealed my hands in my pockets to prevent their being touched;-a kiss would turn my stomach, and amorous looks (though they would make me vain) gave me a hate to him that sent them, and never any maid resolved so much as I to tread the paths of honour, and I had many precedents before me to make me careful: thus I was armed with resolution, pride and scorn, against all mankind; but alas, I made no defence against a brother, but innocently lay exposed to all his attacks of love, and never thought it criminal till it kindled a new desire about me, oh, that I should not die with shame to own it----yet see (I say) how from one soft degree to another, I do not only confess the shameful truth, but act it too; what with a brother--oh heavens! a crime so monstrous and so new----but by all thy love, by those surprising joys so lately experienced----I never will----no, no, I never can----repent it: oh incorrigible passion! oh harden’d love! At least I might have some remorse, some sighing after my poor departed honour; but why should I dissemble with the powers divine; that know